The vibration wouldn’t stop. It was relentless, persistent. But I forced myself to focus entirely on Jung Suwon standing in front of me.
Jung Suwon had seen Park Sion throwing away the gym uniform he’d lent to Kim Youngjin. That was probably a fact. After all, the uniform ended up in Jung Suwon’s hands.
But what he said about Park Sion using younger students to fuck him over—that claim had no foundation. It was nothing more than Jung Suwon’s subjective speculation. There was no objective truth in it.
“I was gonna keep ignoring it to the end. It was obvious Park Sion was treating you like shit, but I didn’t want to get involved, so I kept my mouth shut. But you really didn’t know anything!”
What I couldn’t deny, though, was that Park Sion had lied to me—twice. Once about the gym uniform, and once about his relationship with Jung Suwon.
He bought me a new uniform even before he knew Kim Youngjin had lost it. And when I asked about his connection to Jung Suwon, he said they had none. Then he told me I could trust him. That he wasn’t that kind of asshole.
The version of Park Sion that Jung Suwon described wasn’t all that different from my first impression of him—a cocky hypocrite, a cunning manipulator.
But the Park Sion I’d actually experienced was different. He was complicated, full of contradictions, but he had been undeniably kind. Warm. No matter what anyone else said, to me, he had always been good.
So what was the truth? What was real, and what was fake?
“The Park Sion I know is not a friendly guy. You know what I mean, right?”
I knew exactly what Jung Suwon was pointing out—how Park Sion acted differently around me. And I had already started to sense it, vaguely. The way his eyes always found me when I looked away. The arm that always seemed to wrap around my shoulder. The teasing tone in his voice. None of it was normal.
But like Park Sion once said—those are just outside standards. Other people’s measuring sticks.
“Yoon Seonwoo.”
When my name was called, the pieces of my scattered consciousness pulled back toward Jung Suwon. He spoke again, his voice now calm, as if he had regained control.
“Park Sion’s playing with you.”
My fists clenched so tightly my nails dug into my palms. My shoulders trembled. I bit down on my lip so hard I tasted blood. My heart stung like it was being pinched. I felt like I might cry. A surge of unnamable emotion rippled through my chest. I clenched my teeth and swallowed it down.
“You don’t know anything…”
You’re just projecting your experience onto me. You’re painting me as some idiot being toyed with by Park Sion based on your own fragmented view. You don’t even know what kind of conversations we’ve had. You don’t know what his gestures meant to me.
What kind of bastard treats someone like a toy with that much gentleness? What kind of lunatic exposes his deepest wounds just to comfort a plaything?
“Whether you believe it or not is your choice.”
But I couldn’t argue back anymore. Because even what I wanted to say was nothing more than a defense—me playing lawyer for Park Sion.
Jung Suwon stepped closer to me, his eyes full of hesitation. Slowly, he placed a hand on my shoulder. That small gesture carried concern.
“Still… just don’t get too close.”
My head dropped on its own. I needed to think, but I couldn’t. Jung Suwon’s image of Park Sion and my own kept flashing through my mind, tearing it up.
Even now, my phone was still vibrating in my pocket. Relentless and persistent, like the stare I could never escape from. For the first time, I felt afraid to see a message from Park Sion.
I left the empty lot and started walking back toward school. The phone in my pocket wouldn’t stop. The sensation against my thigh was unpleasant. Irritated, I took it out and shut it off completely. I sat on a quiet stairwell and stared at the black screen. I had to go home—but to do that, I had to go back to the classroom first. And right now, I didn’t think I could face Park Sion.
Jung Suwon said everything was my choice. Whether I believed in Park Sion or not—it was all up to me. But having to decide everything on my own only made me more confused.
The gap between Jung Suwon’s Park Sion and mine felt impossibly wide. Could I still look at him the same way as before? No—could I even bring myself to push him away? Honestly, it was hard to imagine life without him now.
At some point, the end-of-semester ceremony must have ended, because I could hear noisy footsteps. I curled myself up as much as I could and sat in the corner of the stairs. I just needed time to think. The sound of raindrops tapping against the windows reached my ears faintly. I hadn’t brought an umbrella this morning—figures. Nothing was going right today.
“What are you doing here? I found you.”
I didn’t know how much time had passed, but right around when the footsteps started to fade, that familiar voice reached me. I didn’t lift my head. In fact, I ducked it even lower, burying it as far as it would go. The scent of Park Sion, fresh and cool, mixed with the dampness of rain. Normally it would’ve felt comforting, but not today.
Park Sion sat beside me in silence and gently placed a hand on my knee.
“Did something happen?”
His soft voice carried concern. That kindness, the warmth spreading from where his hand touched mine—was it really coming from a genuine place? Ever since that night when we talked about our fathers, our friendship had deepened. But now a cold doubt was forming over it, like frost.
“What’s wrong?”
I looked at the hand that was gently shaking me. Then I carefully lifted it off my knee. His hand, which had always felt cool, felt strangely warm today.
“What’s going on? Who were you with just now? Did someone mess with you?”
I gave a slight shake of my head. I hated how childish I looked, sitting there with my mouth clamped shut and refusing to speak. But I wasn’t ready. If I blurted something out now, I might say something I couldn’t take back. I needed time to think. The last thing I wanted was to act on impulse and drive things to a point I couldn’t undo.
I stood up. A moment later, Park Sion rose too. He was a head taller than me, so I automatically had to look up. He always looked at me from above. For some reason, that unequal height suddenly felt uncomfortable.
“My head just hurts a little.”
“You think you’ve got a fever?”
Without hesitation, Park Sion raised a hand and pressed it to my forehead. I stepped back, hitting the wall. He placed his other hand on my shoulder. My back pressed tighter against the wall. I was trapped between the wall and Park Sion. I wanted to avoid him, but I couldn’t. My mouth was dry. Instinctively, I twisted my upper body and knocked his hand away. My fingertips had gone cold. Park Sion just looked at me with his hand frozen in the air.
After a moment of silence, he let out a small, incredulous laugh.
“What’s up with you?”
As he stepped closer, his eyes flashed cold. Was that chill in his gaze because he felt betrayed by my sudden rejection? Or was this the real face beneath his mask?
He was so close I could feel his breath. His hand reached for my forehead again. This time, it didn’t feel comforting. The way his fingers grazed my temple felt oddly sticky.
“I said—what’s up with you?”
His eyes scanned my face like he was analyzing me, and he slowly brushed my bangs aside. I turned my head a little. But he wasn’t afraid of rejection—he reached out again and touched my forehead.
“You’ve got a high fever.”
"Move your hand."
"Are you really sick?"
"I said move your fucking hand!"
For the first time, Park Sion’s touch—his supposed gesture of concern—felt repulsive. Just like always, he reached for me without permission, and I could feel anger boiling up at his careless sense of entitlement. I brushed his arm off again. I felt the grip on my shoulder tighten. His cold gaze hit my face without hesitation.
Park Sion closed and opened his eyes, then stared at me like he was trying to read me down to the last layer, like he was trying to unravel everything inside me. The tension made the back of my neck throb. Finally, he muttered in a low voice:
“Maybe you’ve got such a fever you’ve lost your mind.”
We were close enough that I could feel both our breaths. I didn’t miss a single moment as the sharp, needle-like gaze in his eyes gradually faded. Park Sion’s expression softened, and he smiled with those eyes again as he brushed my forehead gently.
“What’s with you all of a sudden? Did someone say something to you?”
He leaned in as he asked, and though his voice carried concern, it also sounded like he was trying hard not to lose his temper.
“Park Sion, you…”
“Yeah?”
“What are you hiding?”
I wanted to approach this rationally and calmly, but now that I was alone with him, the only thing I could do was throw it straight at his face. I cut out every unnecessary word. I didn’t have the energy to rehash the history between him and Jung Suwon. That was between them. What I needed to know—what I was terrified to know—was what Park Sion thought of me. Did he really see me as a friend? That’s what I wanted to ask more than anything.
“Hiding something?”
Even as he tilted his head innocently, his eyes never stopped watching me, gauging every reaction. Like he was trying to guess what I really meant.
“Why did you want to get close to me?”
“This again?”
“Just answer me. And don’t lie.”
“I already told you. I just liked you.”
“Was that the truth?”
“Yeah. It was.”
“Then why did you throw away my gym uniform?”
For a moment, the smile dropped from his face. I could feel the pressure in his grip on my shoulder intensify. The warmth in his eyes clouded over. It felt like I was being swallowed into darkness, but I didn’t look away. Even if I had to face something I didn’t want to, I wouldn’t flinch. His lips parted slowly.
“What are you talking about?”
“You threw my gym uniform into the incinerator.”
As I said it, I shoved him hard in the chest. He stumbled back weakly. His head hung slightly, so I couldn’t see what kind of expression he was making. After a moment of silence, he finally spoke.
“It pissed me off.”
His brows furrowed, like it genuinely had.
“You were going to wear something Kim Youngjin’s bare skin touched.”
My expression twisted immediately. I opened my mouth, but nothing came out. It was complete nonsense from start to finish. Of course his bare skin would’ve touched the uniform—he borrowed it. So what? That’s your reason? That’s why you threw it into the fucking incinerator?
“…You’re insane.”
“I know.”
“You’re seriously fucked in the head.”
It was a different kind of confusion from what I’d felt after Jung Suwon’s reveal. I stared at him, speechless, stunned at how ridiculous he sounded. And for once, Park Sion didn’t try to justify himself with some twisted logic.
For some reason, he avoided my eyes for the first time. He bit and released his lower lip, looking genuinely conflicted. Was he acting? I couldn’t tell. It felt like the air around him had suddenly changed.
“I didn’t mean anything bad. I swear.”
“So you’re admitting you threw it away?”
“Seonwoo…”
There was no need for this conversation to continue. And honestly, whether or not he thought of me as a friend didn’t matter anymore. Whether Jung Suwon was telling the truth or not didn’t matter either.
What mattered was that Park Sion had lied to me—said he didn’t know anything about the gym uniform when he clearly did. The lie was bad enough, but worse was the fact that there was something twisted in how he viewed friendship. And unfortunately, I didn’t have even the slightest desire to understand that twisted version of him. How the hell was I supposed to understand someone who thinks it’s disgusting for me to wear something another guy touched?
Jung Suwon called him a bastard, but I think that gives him too much credit. Park Sion isn’t a bastard—he’s just fucking insane.
“I’m going home by myself today. We’ll talk some other time.”
I bolted up the stairs, fleeing toward the classroom. My steps quickened as I grabbed my bag off the desk and headed out. Behind me, I heard Park Sion calling my name. I could hear his long strides catching up fast. Just as I was about to leave the school gate, he grabbed my arm.
“Seonwoo, I’m sorry.”
Rain was falling. And Park Sion’s face, turned toward me, looked cloudier than the sky it fell from. He stood there, holding me in place.
“I just… I thought maybe you were getting too close with Kim Youngjin.”
“Let go.”
“I got jealous, okay? You seemed more comfortable with him than with me.”
“You realize how fucking weird you sound right now?”
“I know it was messed up. I thought if I just bought you a new uniform, it’d all be fine.”
Instinctively, I looked up and glared at him. The cold look he’d given me just moments ago was gone, replaced with something pitiful, almost desperate. Raindrops slid down his pale face, his soaked bangs clinging to his forehead.
“Seonwoo, I’m sorry for lying. If I’d known how much you hate being lied to, I wouldn’t have done it.”
I quickly turned my eyes away, staring into empty space. My rational mind screamed at me not to get caught up in his pitiful expression, not to fall for his sugarcoated words. And then, as if to slice through my resolve, Park Sion’s lips moved.
“Seonwoo.”
That desperate voice scraped against the inside of my ear. And suddenly, everything about him terrified me. The way his friendship twisted itself into something else. The way he remembered that I hate lies. The way he looked, standing there in the rain, pitiful and soft. I was scared he might cloud my judgment. That the smallest tremble in his voice would make me waver. I was scared of that.
I looked away from his face with all the will I could muster. I wanted to plug my ears too, but I couldn’t—because he was still holding my arm.
I had to pry each one of his fingers off me, one by one.
“Let’s just talk later.”
“It’s raining hard. Let me walk you home.”
“I said no. Don’t follow me.”
I turned around, leaving only those words behind. The rain was falling harder now. Thick raindrops soaked through my shoulders. It didn’t take long before Park Sion caught up with me again. He gently reached out and turned me around. This time, I twisted my head to avoid looking at him. Above my trembling vision, I saw the umbrella he held.
Then, through the sound of the rain, his gloomy voice slipped into my ears.
“Take the umbrella. You’ll catch a cold.”
He pressed the black umbrella into my hand and stepped back two paces. It felt like a way of saying he wouldn’t stop me anymore—just take this, at least. I held it without a word. I didn’t want to argue with him any further. He’d get sick in the rain just like I would. Idiot. Crazy bastard.
Dragging feet that didn’t want to move, I barely managed to walk away. I couldn’t tell whether the weight in my steps came from the water soaking into my pant cuffs or the weight of his stupid kindness in forcing that umbrella into my hand. The emotions I couldn’t digest pressed heavily into my chest, like a stone lodged inside me.
As soon as I got home, I went to the bathroom to wash off my soaked body. Even under the stream of water, my thoughts refused to settle. After showering, I collapsed onto the couch and stared blankly at the window.
As the rain intensified, I couldn’t stop thinking about Park Sion, who had gone home without an umbrella. Logically, I knew he had money, probably took a taxi and was fine. But his face kept coming back to me—the one that had stopped me, drenched and pathetic in the downpour.
“…Shit. This is driving me nuts.”
Even now, thinking about Park Sion, even worrying about him—made me feel ridiculous. I sighed and wiped my face with my hands. When I finally turned my phone back on, a flood of missed call notifications popped up. Just how many times had he tried to call me? My messenger was also filled with messages from him.
In the preview window, all I could see was: I’m sorry. I wondered if he meant it. If it was sincere, then why was it so easy for me to receive the apology Jung Suwon had wanted so badly but never got?
Every time I realized Park Sion acted differently just with me, I got this weird feeling. Maybe he really meant what he said—that I was special. Too special, apparently—so much so that he couldn’t even stand the idea of me wearing a gym uniform someone else had touched. But is that really the kind of “special” a friend is supposed to be?
Just as I was about to shut my phone off again and try to sleep, a heavy vibration pulsed through it. I was afraid to check, scared it might be Park Sion. After hesitating for a while, I finally looked at the screen. Thankfully, it was Kim Youngjin.
— Yo! Yoon Seonwoo! Why’d you run off first? You said you’d boost me to Master!
As soon as I picked up, his loud voice greeted me. The relief that it wasn’t Park Sion quickly turned into genuine happiness to hear Youngjin.
Right—I'd totally forgotten my promise to him. On the last day of school, I’d boldly declared I’d get him to Master rank myself. And the only reason I made that promise was because of Park Sion’s ridiculous, obsessive behavior. I remembered the warmth of his hand back on that day we walked together, and my hand clenched into a fist.
— Where are you? Get your ass out here now!
“Uh, well…”
— Save it. I’m not listening. I’m at the PC bang already. You better show up!
I was about to make up an excuse about being sick, but he hung up before I had the chance. I just stared at the phone in silence.
Maybe playing a game would be better than sitting here drowning in thoughts. Now that it’s come to this, I figured I could use the opportunity to probe Youngjin a little. He’d been around Park Sion for a while—he might know what he’s really like.
I wanted to ask: Was he always this crazy, or was it just with me? Either way, it didn’t change how fucked up this was—but I needed to know what kind of person Park Sion really was. Whether to keep pretending this was friendship, or just walk away entirely. Thinking that, I left the house.
But when I got to the PC bang, it wasn’t just Youngjin waiting.
A face I really didn’t want to see grinned at me.
“Hey, Seonwoo.”
Shin Jaeyoung sat next to Youngjin, legs crossed. The moment I saw his hand waving casually at me, my brows furrowed hard. I didn’t even have the energy to fake a normal reaction. Just seeing his smirking face made my already frayed nerves snap.
If I’d known he was here, I wouldn’t have come. Shit. And if Shin Jaeyoung was here… did that mean Park Sion was, too? I quickly scanned the room. Youngjin, that bastard—he didn’t call me here on Park Sion’s behalf, did he?
“He’s not here, your precious Sion.”
Almost reading my mind, Shin Jaeyoung chuckled darkly. Your Sion, huh. That was obviously a jab. When I shot him a sharp look, he jerked his chin toward Youngjin.
“I was gonna invite him too, but Youngjin threatened to kill me if I even mentioned his name.”
For once, I wanted to actually praise Youngjin. But then again, he brought Shin Jaeyoung instead, so it was kind of a wash. I shrugged off Shin Jaeyoung’s arm when he tried to sling it around my shoulders and powered on the computer. I could feel him staring at me the whole time I logged into the game.
“Hey, fix your face.”
He poked at the furrow between my brows. I slapped his hand away, shivering slightly from the disgust. He grinned crookedly.
“Don’t be mad at me.”
“Hands off.”
“Come on, I’ve always been on your side.”
Yeah, right. Great at discerning enemies from allies, huh? He leaned in and whispered just loud enough for me to hear. This wasn’t the damn army. I kept my curses inside and focused all my attention on the monitor.
I played the game like I was solving math problems—mechanically, without thought. I just wanted to boost Youngjin’s rank and get home to sleep. I zeroed in on my targets like a machine.
But the matches didn’t go smoothly. I landed headshots, sure, but my teammates kept dropping like flies. Probably because I kept charging in alone, desperate to end things quickly, and got taken out first every time. Shin Jaeyoung’s annoying commentary droned from beside me.
“If Seonwoo keeps rushing in and dying, no heals for you.”
“….”
“Stick with the team. If you took out McCree, then go after Pharah, or stick with the healer and cover for Tracer or something. Do one or the other. You going off solo is why I keep dying.”
“….”
“Jesus fuck! Seonwoo! Where are you going?! I said wait! Don’t go alone!”
Of course I didn’t listen to a single word of his backseat gaming bullshit. Who does he think he is, giving me orders when he’s barely above gold rank?
In the end, the “Boost Youngjin to Master” mission took way longer than I’d expected. Still, we managed to get there. Youngjin beamed like an idiot when he saw the golden badge. Meanwhile, Shin Jaeyoung, despite gaining a ton of points himself, barely reacted and didn’t even say thank you. Asshole.
It was already late by the time we left the PC bang. My eyes were dry, my shoulders and neck stiff. I was about to head out after muttering a half-assed goodbye when Youngjin grabbed my arm.
“Hey, Seonwoo—are you sick? You didn’t say a word the whole time.”
“I just feel a bit off. Maybe a fever.”
“What? You still came out even though you’re sick?”
“You’re the one who yelled at me to show up.”
“Oh, right.”
Youngjin looked genuinely concerned as he studied my face. I wasn’t even fishing for pity, but his expression was full of guilt. He patted my shoulder with one of his huge hands.
“Let me treat you to a burger. Come on, my treat.”
“Nah, I’m gonna head out. I’m really tired.”
“You taking the bus? I’ll walk you to the stop.”
“No, I’ll walk a bit.”
“Come on, you just said you weren’t feeling well—”
“Seonwoo’s coming with me. We live in the same neighborhood.”
Shin Jaeyoung cut him off, throwing his arm around my shoulders so roughly I nearly stumbled. What the hell is this guy’s problem again? I violently shook him off. Why does everyone think my shoulder’s some kind of armrest?
“Don’t talk shit. I’m going alone.”
I glared at him, then told Youngjin I’d take him up on the burger some other time and turned to leave quickly. The last thing I needed was to be alone with Shin Jaeyoung right now. But just a few steps out, I was yanked back around.
“I said let’s go together.”
“Let go.”
“You’ve got a million things racing through your head right now. You need to talk it out.”
He grinned slyly. I, on the other hand, wasn’t smiling at all. He’d hit the mark—my head was a mess. But that didn’t mean I wanted to spill my guts to him. I forced my expression back into place and looked at him flatly.
“I’ll handle it.”
“You fought with Park Sion, didn’t you?”
“…”
“You don’t know this, but I’m a pretty decent guy to talk to.”
He shrugged as he said it. The moment he said Park Sion’s name, a crack formed in my expression. And he noticed it—of course he did—and tilted his head with a smug little smile. Maybe he knew something, but that didn’t mean I had any intention of spilling everything that happened today.
“I don’t feel like talking to you. If you’re just gonna waste my time, fuck off.”
“Let’s just walk home together. I’ll even pay for your cab.”
“I’ve got money.”
“You really think overthinking this alone is gonna help? Let’s just talk it out.”