I’m tired of wondering just how far physical contact is appropriate between us. Like cherry blossom viewing, it’s supposed to be a once-a-season thing—so why have we been stuck on the same damn issue for months now? On top of that, Park Sion seemed completely unwilling to compromise on this one. It was a problem that couldn’t be solved unless I cut him off entirely. I could only guess—maybe he’d ease up a little if he got himself a girlfriend.
I pulled the blanket up over my head and lay facing the wall. I felt Park Sion’s presence beside me. He left his own pillow untouched and rested his head on mine. Even though the space was wider than my bed at home, it didn’t change the fact that we still had to sleep crammed together. Telling him I’d lay a blanket on the floor and he should go sleep down there wouldn’t work. He wouldn’t buy it. Half resigned, I ignored Park Sion pressing up against me and closed my eyes.
Before long, a cold hand gripped my shoulder and pulled me toward him.
“Don’t sleep facing the wall.”
A quiet breath brushed the back of my neck. I had no choice but to roll over again. Only then did Park Sion look satisfied, his expression faintly visible in the dark. Our eyes met. His gaze was heavy and tender, scanning my face slowly and thoroughly. If Kim Youngjin or Shin Jaeyoung ever caught the way Park Sion looked at me, what would they say? They’d probably bolt, faces drained of color. Hell, they might even puke in the bathroom.
In the end, all of it circles back to me. Even as I watch Park Sion run his fingers along my cheek like it’s nothing, I can’t bring myself to pull away. I’m not gagging—I’m feeling something weird and fluttery in my chest. Like a dumbass, I’m touching his hair again.
“I used to have really bad insomnia, but when you touch my hair like this, I sleep well.”
There was a time I thought all the weirdness in our relationship was entirely Park Sion’s fault. But it’s not. This is on both of us. You’re weird, and so am I. Two weirdos sticking together—it’s no wonder things between us have taken such a strange turn.
Now, the question I need to ask is why we keep acting this way toward each other. Every time I try to define this as friendship, that emotion keeps veering off course. It’s time to figure out what that feeling really is.
“What are you thinking about now?”
“Nothing.”
“Liar.”
“I mean it.”
“Then just think about me. That’ll fix it.”
A small shadow appeared in his cheek. I stared blankly at the dimple that only shows on one side when he smiles. I decided to set aside the complicated thoughts for now. It was late, I was exhausted, and, more than anything, I was scared. I didn’t want to open Pandora’s box and peek inside.
Instead, I focused on the sensation of his fine hair slipping between my fingers. The soft voice, the sound of a beating heart, the quiet breaths right next to me. Like Park Sion said, I focused all my attention on him.
I don’t know how long I’d been asleep when I stirred, sensing movement nearby. I reached out and felt the cold of an empty sheet. I rubbed my eyes and sat up. In the dark, I could make out a silhouette moving carefully, trying not to make a sound.
“What are you doing, not sleeping?”
At my voice, Park Sion turned around. It was too dark to make out his expression. He came closer and brushed my bangs back from my forehead.
“Sorry. Did I wake you?”
“What’s going on? Why aren’t you sleeping?”
“I think… I have to go.”
“What? At this hour?”
The sleep glued to my eyelids evaporated instantly. I checked my phone screen—it was already past 4 a.m. What the hell kind of ghost story was this? Go where? I turned on the light in a panic. Park Sion was already fully dressed and ready to leave.
“How are you planning to go anywhere at this hour?”
“I called a cab.”
“You’re gonna take a cab all the way back to Seoul from here?”
“It’s urgent.”
“What the…”
“My father summoned me.”
His voice dropped low. What kind of father summons someone at this hour? I don’t care if it’s your son—that’s insane. I grabbed Park Sion, who was about to leave the room.
“You didn’t get permission from your parents to come with us, did you?”
“Nope.”
“Why not?”
“Both of them were overseas. I didn’t think they’d come back this early.”
“Still, going back alone at this hour is nuts.”
“Sorry.”
Park Sion looked uncharacteristically anxious. He kept checking the time, biting his pale lips again and again. Looking closer, his face was drained of color, all the way to his fingertips. I’d never seen him this shaken. He was always so composed it bordered on arrogance. Seeing him like this made my heart go cold.
“I’m sorry. I’ll contact you when I get there.”
“You…”
“I think the cab’s here. I should go.”
“Hey! Park Sion!”
I grabbed him again. His hand was clammy with cold sweat. I squeezed it tighter.
“I’ll walk you out. Let’s go together.”
Even if he was leaving, I couldn’t just let him go like this. Park Sion’s anxious eyes wavered, and that tremble traveled right into me.
Outside the pension, a luxury cab was waiting. We walked toward it hand in hand. The closer we got, the tighter his grip became. It hurt, almost enough to wince, but I didn’t say anything. I just rubbed the skin under my thumb, gently. The trembling slowly eased.
His shoulders were stiff. The heat that used to flare up in his eyes when he looked at me was gone, now replaced by something cold. The curve of his lips and the dimple he showed when he smiled were also gone. He looked on the verge of collapse. Despondent, anxious.
Even after opening the cab door, he didn’t get in right away. The driver shot him an annoyed look, irritated that he was hesitating. Park Sion stood frozen for a long while before turning back to me. He looked straight at me. The cab’s headlights reflected in his pitch-black eyes. I saw myself in the flicker of his pupils.
“Yoon Seonwoo. Seonwoo.”
“Yeah.”
“I… I kind of…”
“…”
“Never mind.”
I stared at his lips, now closed again, trying to figure out what he hadn’t said. Somehow, I felt like I already knew. I didn’t even have to hear it to understand. Why is it so easy for me to know what Park Sion wants?
Park Sion—
I called out to him again, just as he was about to get in the car. Then I turned him around and hugged him. I wrapped my arms around those rigid shoulders. He was trembling slightly. It was the first time I’d ever hugged him first. Usually, he got to me before I could.
“Text me when you get there. I won’t sleep—I’ll wait.”
I said that with my arms still around him. I had to stand on tiptoe because of our height difference. The bag he was holding dropped to the ground. Then he lowered his head and buried his face in my neck. A heartbeat—someone’s—echoed against my chest. Park Sion took a deep breath, as if he were trying to swallow my scent. I said nothing and kept running my hand down his back.
We stayed like that until the cab driver yelled at us.
Even after Park Sion left, I just stood there, staring at the taxi until it disappeared from view. The world quickly fell quiet again. The only sounds were insects chirping and the leaves rustling in the dawn breeze, keeping the early morning from feeling too empty.
I stood there in a daze, Park Sion’s face lingering in my mind. I couldn’t shake it. That face—so fragile, like it could shatter at any moment—wouldn’t leave me.
****
Morning sunlight bled through the white curtains, tinting the bedsheets. I waited for Park Sion’s message until the entire room was flooded with light. He should’ve arrived by now. My phone didn’t ring.
I’d barely slept, and my eyes felt raw. Cold sweat soaked the hand gripping my phone. I wasn’t sure if I should be the one to text first. While I debated, checkout time crept closer.
Despite the chaos last night, Kim Youngjin and Shin Jaeyoung looked cheerful. When I told them Park Sion got summoned by his parents in the middle of the night, they didn’t even seem surprised. Like it was something that happened often—they just nodded. I was the only one sitting there looking like death.
Without Park Sion glued to my side pretending to be carsick, the back seat was empty. It should’ve felt relaxing, but for some reason, a weight settled on my chest. Even though I barely slept last night, I wasn’t tired.
I stared blankly out the window. The blue sky and summer-green trees passed me by, but none of it moved me. My mind was hazy. Park Sion’s face kept flickering in and out of my thoughts.
We stopped at a rest stop to buy the so-tteok so-tteok and tornado potatoes that Youngjin had been singing about. I went inside to get coffee for his sister. When I turned around, I saw Shin Jaeyoung trailing behind me. He stepped in close as I was about to order.
“I’ll take an iced Americano.”
“…Three iced Americanos, please.”
Without complaint, I paid for his too. Part of it was guilt about last night, but I also had something I wanted to ask him. I handed him the cold coffee and spoke up.
“Does this kind of thing happen a lot?”
“What kind of thing?”
“Park Sion getting summoned like that.”
“Not often, but it happens sometimes.”
Shin Jaeyoung sipped his coffee with a cynical smile. I stayed half-frozen, waiting for him to continue. But all he left me with was a quick thanks before turning to go. I grabbed his arm again.
“Why does he get summoned?”
“Park Sion?”
“Yeah.”
“He must’ve done something wrong. His dad’s pretty sensitive about stuff when it comes to his kid.”
“Sensitive?”
“He’s one of those people who sees a child’s flaws as a direct reflection of his own.”
“Oh, right. He did say his dad’s a politician…”
I remembered something Park Sion once said, just in passing, while explaining the origin of his name. The expression on his face when he talked about his family had turned unusually bitter.
“There’s been a lot of drama lately with all those so-called ‘model sons’ screwing up. With his dad’s personality, he’d rather die than have people call his kid one of them.”
“Did Park Sion do something bad enough to be called that?”
“Probably just getting preemptively disciplined.”
Shin Jaeyoung shook his head like he was sick of it. I couldn’t remember the last time I listened to him this closely. I shot him a look that said keep going.
“And lately there’s been some mess inside the party—splits, power struggles. His dad’s standing has taken a hit. Unless he runs in a tough district, his chances of getting nominated next time are pretty slim.”
Words I’d only ever heard on the news spilled casually from Shin Jaeyoung’s mouth. He seemed way more in the know about politics than I’d expected. I widened my eyes.
“You’re more into politics than I thought.”
“I just overhear stuff.”
“From who? Park Sion?”
“No. My dad. He’s an aide to Representative Park.”
Shin Jaeyoung dropped that piece of personal info like it was nothing. It suddenly hit me how little I actually knew about either of them. I’d thought they were just close friends, but apparently, there was this whole connection between them I’d never known about.
“Is Park Sion’s dad scary?”
At my question, Shin Jaeyoung squinted and stared off into space for a bit, like he was trying to find the right word. Then he let out a faint, deflated chuckle and tapped my shoulder.
“Don’t you get it just by looking at Park Sion’s personality?”
He said it with a half-sneer. I wanted to say No, I don’t, but I knew he’d just laugh at me, so I kept my mouth shut.
From the way Shin Jaeyoung reacted, I could tell for sure now—Park Sion’s father was not the kind of person you'd call gentle. My mood sank. Maybe he got chewed out hard for going on this trip with us. A strange, gnawing unease crept in and made me bite my lip.
Water was dripping from the condensation on my cup. The droplets left dark circles on the asphalt. The sun was blazing, and the air was thick. It was so hot it was starting to piss me off. I wiped my hand off roughly. The glare made me lower my head toward the ground.
Out of nowhere, I thought about how Park Sion always wrapped his arms around me no matter how suffocating the weather was. Even after he got home, I still couldn’t get him out of my head. Maybe it was the heat, but I found myself missing the cool touch of his body like crazy.
Late into the night, there was still no word from Park Sion. I sent him a few messages out of worry, but no matter how long I waited, he didn’t reply. The little “1” beside the chat bubble never disappeared.
Maybe because I’d been tense all day, a wave of exhaustion crashed over me. I kept dozing off and waking up on the couch, my phone still in hand. Every time I woke up, I’d check for a message first thing, and it was so pathetic it almost made me laugh.
What the hell am I doing. Even someone waiting for a call from an ex wouldn’t look this desperate. I finally passed out from sheer fatigue when night fell.
Thud. Thud.
Just as I was sinking into deep sleep, I heard a dull sound. It was coming from the front door. Still half-asleep, I stumbled toward it. I heard someone punching in the door code—slowly, unsteadily. Only one person knew the passcode: Park Sion. Instinctively, I reached out and opened the door.
“Park Sion.”
The words came out before I realized it. But the moment I saw his face, I froze. My lips parted as I stared. Park Sion was looking down.
Neither of us moved, so the yellow light above the door flicked off. Darkness swallowed us. I pulled him inside by the wrist—he looked like he might collapse any second. The hallway light flicked back on, casting his trembling gaze into sharp relief right in front of me.
“What the hell…”
He said nothing. He just stared at me with a blank expression. No look of pity, no pouty pretense. He looked hollow. Empty like a shell. His eyes, stripped of anything human, seemed colder than ever. I felt chilled all the way down to my fingertips. I asked again, more urgently.
“What happened to your face? Did someone hit you?”
His lip was split, dotted with blood. Bruises bloomed all over his pale face. It was hard to see in the dark, but I could make out reddish handprints on his exposed neck. A surge of something I couldn’t name hit me hard. My lips trembled. I lifted my hand and checked every part of his face. Still, he said nothing.
I grabbed his arm and sat him down on the couch. I know all about injuries from being hit. I ran to the bathroom, scrubbed my hands, then hurried to grab the first aid kit from the drawer. My hands kept shaking—I fumbled it over and over.
“Fuck,” I muttered. The curse slipped out without thinking.
I soaked some gauze in hydrogen peroxide and brought it to his bleeding lip. It must’ve stung, but Park Sion didn’t even flinch. Didn’t move a muscle. He didn’t feel like the same person. I dabbed at the wound as gently as possible to avoid irritating it. My fingers were trembling so badly it disgusted me.
“Does it hurt?”
“Yeah.”
He said it in a voice that sounded like it didn’t hurt at all. I know from experience that physical injuries eventually heal without leaving a trace, but even so, my insides were burning.
“You okay?”
“Yeah.”
Wounds heal. Antibiotic cream speeds it up. New skin will grow where the scabs are. It wasn’t a knife wound, so there won’t be any scars. But… is that really what matters?
“Who did this?”
Park Sion averted his eyes. I found myself thinking about the kinds of wounds that don’t heal with time. Physical marks fade eventually—but memories of violence root themselves deep in your consciousness, like a second bloodstream. No one knows that better than me.
I squeezed out a line of ointment—the one from the commercial that claims to grow new skin. Wouldn’t it be nice if I could rub this on wounds of the heart too, I thought. At that moment, Park Sion grabbed my hand that was lingering on his face.
“It’s nothing.”
His expression was blank as he said it.
“I just got scolded a bit for not telling them I went on a trip.”
“…This is a bit?”
“I talked back. Got it worse than usual. But I’m fine. Doesn’t hurt much.”
I clenched my teeth. His pretty, handsome face was a wreck. I hated all of it—the bruises on his eyes and cheeks, the split lip. Why hit someone? We have brains. We can think. We have mouths. We can talk. So why fists?
I was pissed. Furious. What could he possibly have done so wrong to deserve this? Why take away the expression from someone who always pretends to be pitiful or cute? Why force someone who fakes weakness as a hobby to say “it doesn’t hurt”? A sharp pain stabbed my chest.
“Does this happen a lot?”
“…”
“Answer me. Does this happen often?”
“Not really.”
“Don’t dodge the question. Be clear. If not ‘often,’ then what—‘occasionally’?”
“As long as I don’t piss him off, I don’t get hit.”
His numb reaction poured gasoline on my rage. I started breathing hard. I couldn’t hold it in.
“Fuck, this is so fucking annoying.”
Everyone lives with some kind of scar, but the ones from your own parents hurt the most. If it were a stranger, you could spit once and cut them out of your life. But family… they’re not you, but they’re not strangers either. That limbo makes everything—anger, forgiveness—so damn hard.
Is it the same for Park Sion? Are you also hurt by the people who are supposed to love you, and tortured by having to love them back? Do you shiver with the fear of being left alone even when surrounded by others? Do you sink into silence when there’s no warmth at all? And in those moments… how do you feel? Were you in pain, like me? Were you terribly, awfully lonely?
“If it hurts, just say it does. It’s okay.”
I reached out instinctively. My fingers trembled as they hovered, unable to touch his bloody lip. I shifted toward the cheek that didn’t have any injuries. Just then, Park Sion looked at me—like he could see right through me. His shaking eyes pierced mine. And that look… that look hurt more than the bruises or the split lip. My hand stayed on his face, tracing the edge of the wound.
“Why are you crying?”
He reached out and brushed my cheek. Was I crying? Instead of wiping the tears, I blinked slowly. They slid down my face. Through the blurry vision, I could still see Park Sion watching me.
“I asked why you’re crying.”
“Because it hurts.”
“You’re upset I got hit?”
“Yeah.”
“Why?”
He stared at me and asked. I closed my mouth for a moment to think.
Isn’t it obvious? Even when I see a cat shivering in a back alley in the middle of winter, I feel bad for it. So how could I possibly be okay with this? You’re not a stranger. You’re the first friend I ever made. You’re the one who made me feel like I was special.
“Because… I—”
“Yeah? You what?”
“I care about you. A lot. So of course it hurts.”
At my words, Park Sion paused for a moment.
It was only after I said it out loud that I realized how I felt. I cared about him. A lot. That’s why I couldn’t bring myself to push him away even when he crossed the line. Why even just seeing a hint of sadness in his eyes made me feel sympathy.
Yeah. I didn’t want you to be in pain. I didn’t want you to be upset. Because I care about you. Because I really like you.
“Yoon Seonwoo.”
Park Sion softly said my name. I looked at each and every feature on his face. There was a time when I obsessed over what lay behind the mask he always wore. But maybe… maybe this face, beaten and bruised, was the real Park Sion.
He brushed the tears from my cheek with his fingers.
“I always thought I’d like to see you cry at least once. I figured it’d look pretty.”
His voice came low, right by my ear. Even in the dim light of just the desk lamp, Park Sion’s eyes gleamed wet and glassy.
“But it’s not as nice as I thought.”
His pale fingers traced the tear’s path down my cheek. As his hand slid from my jaw down along my neck, his gaze never left me. It was dark. And relentless. Through my clouded vision, I saw Park Sion smile—slow, faint. It looked heartbreakingly sad, and my vision blurred all over again.
“You’re way prettier when you smile.”
He brought his fingers to my lips. Emotions swirled wildly in his eyes. Sometimes he looked sad. Sometimes amused. And sometimes there was a flicker of something more—an edge of strange excitement. The way he stared at me, so tightly packed with want, made my heart race. Slowly, Park Sion leaned in closer.
“If you say no, I won’t do it. If you don’t want it, push me away.”
“What are you…”
Before I could even finish the question, an unfamiliar sensation touched my lips. Park Sion pressed his lips to mine—lightly. He didn’t move. Just that soft pressure.
When I flinched and tried to pull back, he gently caressed my cheek as if to calm me down. The warmth of his skin against mine made my spine stiffen. A quiet heat bloomed along my face. He lightly bit my lower lip and let it go. Then he pulled back just a little and rested his forehead against mine. His hands came up and cupped both my cheeks.
“You’re warm.”
He saw that I didn’t push him away, saw me frozen in place, and smiled—softly. His pale face leaned in again, but this time with urgency. His slightly parted lips opened, and I felt the wet slide of his tongue.
The more I tried to pull away, the more it clung to me. The more I resisted, the closer he pressed. It felt like the blood in my whole body was draining out. When I turned my head slightly to catch my breath, Park Sion grabbed my jaw and forced my gaze back to him.
“Look at me. Don’t look anywhere else. Just look at me.”
Panting, I met his eyes. His lips came again. He pushed deeper into my mouth. Wrapped his arms around my waist and kissed me harder.
I didn’t know what to do. I planted both hands on the floor as my upper body leaned farther back. The moment my head touched the hard ground, Park Sion cradled it carefully. Our saliva mixed. Our legs tangled.
He kissed my tear-streaked cheeks and lips and smiled at me sometimes, in between.
Maybe it was that smile that kept me from pushing him away. It was too pretty to shove aside. And those bruises clinging to that pretty face looked so pitiful.
Park Sion held my hand. The warmth of his palm radiated through our locked fingers. He wrapped his hand around my neck, tilted my head, and kissed me deeper. His breath grew heavier. His tongue dragged along the inside of my cheek.
Even as I gasped for air, I let his lips take mine again. I clutched him tightly, almost violently, like I was trying to comfort him. Our chests pressed together. I could feel his heart pounding against mine, wrapped in a heat that almost burned.
And then, in a low, cracked voice right by my ear, I heard him whisper—
“What do I do, I like you too much.”
Those lips that once talked about friendship were now hungrily sucking my tongue. Instead of warmth, a scorching fever wrapped around me. It made me dizzy. I let myself get swept up in that heat. Like a moth flying into the firelight, unaware of what comes next.
Eighteen—so confusing, so loud.
With my bitter, aching first kiss…
My first fever began.