Kim Youngjin is simple-minded and ignorant.
He threw stones without giving it much thought, and those stones pierced me without the slightest moderation.
He’ll probably dismiss his words and actions as nothing more than a joke, but for me, the one who was actually on the receiving end, it was nothing but an unpleasant, degrading experience.
That’s why I believe his malice stems from stupidity.
Kim Shinju is no different.
No—in fact, in my opinion, that bastard is even more of a moron than Kim Youngjin.
That’s probably why he was capable of doing that pathetic dogshit—trampling someone weaker than him just for fun.
Then what about Park Sion?
What the hell kind of person is Park Sion?
“What do I have to do to get close to you?”
Unlike the two whose natures were blatantly exposed, Park Sion was a type of person who was remarkably difficult to grasp, someone whose essence remained elusive, like a fog-covered street in the early hours of dawn—both the hostility he exuded toward Jung Suwon and the warmth he seemed to direct toward me were equally hazy, equally unreadable.
On the surface, Park Sion came across as an ordinary, well-behaved model student.
You could earn the “diligent” label just by staying awake during class, and Park Sion, in addition to doing just that, also ranked among the top academically.
Unlike Kim Youngjin or Shin Jaeyoung, who wandered around with their school uniforms unbuttoned, he didn’t have a single thing to nitpick about his appearance.
But I don’t believe for a second that he’s the type who’s genuinely diligent by nature—I think he simply knows how to appear diligent.
He pretends to be a model student because that image benefits him.
He understands exactly what kind of behavior brings him the most gain.
To put it kindly, he’s sharp-witted.
To put it plainly, he’s cunning.
An arrogant hypocrite.
A calculating opportunist.
That, in fragments and glimpses, is the closest approximation I’ve reached of Park Sion’s true self.
That’s why I never once believed his words when he said he wanted to be friends with me.
I dismissed every ounce of kindness he showed me as just another layer of hypocrisy.
So then, why the hell is Park Sion going out of his way to act so benevolent in front of me?
What benefit could he possibly be seeking by using such underhanded tricks just to get closer to me?
There’s a gaping, irreconcilable disparity between my definition of who Park Sion is and the attitude he displays toward me—and it’s precisely that chasm that makes it impossible for me to understand him.
“I really want to be friends with you.”
When he said those words, Park Sion looked straight into my eyes with a steady, unwavering gaze.
But to him, I’m nothing more than the guy who got forcibly transferred after being accused of sexually harassing a classmate.
I don’t have an impressive backstory—only filthy, clinging rumors that follow me like flies.
Put bluntly, there’s absolutely no gain to be had by getting involved with me.
If he just hit me, like Kim Shinju did, at least I could understand that.
But Park Sion doesn’t do that.
Instead, he closes the distance with zero hesitation, spewing cheesy shit like how he wants to be friends.
“Yoon Seonwoo, what are you thinking about?”
In the middle of my spiraling thoughts, I suddenly heard a voice so friendly it gave me chills.
Park Sion had placed his arm on my shoulder.
There was a heavy weight pressing down near my neck.
His bare skin touched the side of my neck.
I could feel his body temperature—cool, but not cold.
“I’m putting my arm around you. If it makes you uncomfortable, say something.”
Ever since I told him that I found it uncomfortable when he put his arm around me, Park Sion began asking for permission before doing it.
Strictly speaking, though, it was more of a notification than a request.
It’s not like he was asking, “Is it okay if I do this?”
Still, he gave me the chance to say no.
With just one word—“heavy”—I could always pull away from him whenever I wanted.
In fact, I’d already said I didn’t like it a few times, and every time, Park Sion had nonchalantly withdrawn his arm without the slightest trace of annoyance.
“Is it uncomfortable? Should I take it off?”
“Huh? No, it’s fine.”
“I’m sleepy. I’m tired.”
Park Sion’s smooth hair brushed across my shoulder.
He let out a deep sigh like he was exhausted, then gently rubbed the area around his eyes against my shoulder.
So that rumor about him being physically clingy turned out to be true.
In more ways than one, Park Sion kept defying my expectations.
Everything he did to me was the complete opposite of the cold, detached appearance he usually gave off.
“Why aren’t you saying anything?”
“Huh? Oh, I was just… lost in thought for a second.”
“What kind of thought?”
The guy who’d been slumped over until just now suddenly straightened his back and sat up.
He tilted his head toward me, waiting for an answer.
The light caught in his dark eyes, softening their shine.
“Just… random stuff.”
“What kind of random stuff?”
Park Sion wasn’t the type to let things go with vague answers.
You couldn’t dodge him with a vague response—if I tried to water things down, he’d only get more persistent about prying into the meaning behind my words.
That’s just the way he was.
“Well… midterms are coming up soon. I guess I’m stressed about that.”
But I was just as cunning and calculating as Park Sion—especially when it came to matters involving my own safety.
So I fed him a clean, innocent lie.
I couldn’t exactly tell him, I’ve been thinking about you nonstop because I still can’t figure out what kind of person you are.
“Then do you want to study together this weekend?”
“Together? Where?”
“We could go to a café or a library… or we could study at your place. That works too.”
Park Sion narrowed his eyes slightly as he spoke.
I instinctively avoided his gaze.
To be honest, I didn’t really want to see him on the weekend.
Regardless of how nice he was to me, the time I spent with him always felt uncomfortable.
“Don’t want to?”
A light smile appeared on Park Sion’s face.
The kind that said Why would you not want to?
“…No… it’s not that I don’t want to.”
I ended up giving him the answer he wanted to hear.
To be more precise, I couldn’t think of a solid excuse to say no.
If I rejected him, he’d definitely pester me for a reason, and I’d probably start sweating bullets trying to come up with a half-decent lie.
Just thinking about it made my head throb.
“Let’s do it together. I’m good at studying.”
Yeah, I know you are.
More than enough.
I fixed my gaze straight ahead, trying to hide the sour expression on my face.
Once again, Park Sion’s hand wrapped around my shoulder.
I tensed up at the subtle pressure.
But I had an escape route.
Anytime I felt like it, I could reject his arm.
The one and only refusal Park Sion allowed me.
Maybe because of that, the weight of him leaning against me didn’t feel as suffocating as it used to.
In fact, it even brought a faint sense of stability.
His body heat seeped into me.
It wasn’t a punch.
It wasn’t a kick.
It was physical contact—intimate, but not painful.
It didn’t hurt, and it didn’t try to dominate me.
All of a sudden, I realized it had been a long time since I last felt warmth like this.
My whole body loosened.
For the first time, I let myself relax with Park Sion by my side.
The tension in my shoulders, always stiff, melted away.
His soft hair tickled the nape of my neck.
Even that sensation—even the weight of him resting on me—wasn’t as bad as I’d expected.
****
When I had just entered high school, I couldn’t stand spending time alone. Just one word—let’s hang out—and I’d say yes, no matter who said it or why. I carried plenty of cash on purpose. Even if people treated me like a joke among their friends, being the pushover was better than being by myself. And then I met Kim Shinju, someone I had no connection with at the time, and as I’ve said many times before, after that I went right back to being alone.
The guys who used to spend all night with me at the PC café, the ones who took me around like a pet to play the fool—one by one, they all drifted away. Once in a while, Kim Shinju would still hit me up on the weekends, but I ignored him with everything I had. If I was going to get hit either way—whether I showed up or not—then staying in and getting hit was the better deal.
That’s why this weekend I’m spending with Park Sion feels so fucking strange. We weren’t even close enough to be studying together on a weekend. Honestly, I’m not sure what “close enough” would even look like. I’ve never had a friend like that, and I’m not in a position to ignore what Park Sion says. So I decided I’d just follow along with this “let’s be friends” project of his without saying a word.
“Want some coffee?”
“No, I’m good.”
“Then how about juice?”
“Water’s fine. Thanks.”
Park Sion was dressed casually. I’d only ever seen him in his school uniform, so seeing him in normal clothes felt weird. Maybe it was because of his broad shoulders. Just a simple crewneck sweatshirt and jeans, but somehow it looked good on him. That stupid phrase popped into my head again—“A good face is what finishes the outfit.”
Park Sion stepped into my house without a hint of hesitation, every move he made full of ease. Meanwhile, I couldn’t hide how tense I was—it was the first time I’d ever let someone into my personal space. My shoulders kept locking up. If he were loud and obnoxious like Kim Youngjin, I probably wouldn’t even have had time to feel awkward. Never thought I’d find myself missing that asshole.
I poured hot water into the cup for my coffee and filled a glass of water for Park Sion. He sat at the table in front of the couch. Maybe it was because of his long legs, but he looked slightly uncomfortable sitting on the floor. Something about seeing Park Sion sitting inside my house’s familiar living room felt out of place. He scanned the room once, then looked at me as I approached and gave a faint smile.
“Your place is clean.”
“Is it?”
“When do your parents get home?”
He asked it casually as he took the water from me.
“I live alone.”
I answered just as plainly, sitting down across the table. At my response, Park Sion’s brows drew slightly together. He looked like he wanted to ask more.
“My dad passed away. And I live separately from my mom.”
I wasn’t trying to hide my personal history, so I said it casually. For a second, Park Sion’s face showed a flicker of surprise.
“Oh… sorry.”
“What do you have to be sorry about?”
I looked at him blankly.
There was no reason for Park Sion—or anyone, for that matter—to feel sorry for me. No one had to pity the fact that I ended up alone. It wasn’t anybody’s fault.
“Then… shall we study?”
To break the silence, I pulled out my workbook and opened it. Park Sion followed along, pulling out a few of his own from his bag.
We faithfully carried out the reason we met. Literally, we just studied. Even though we weren’t close, I thought we might chat now and then, but Park Sion didn’t take his eyes off the book—as if he were some law school candidate tearing through the civil code in a monastery. The only sounds between us were the occasional turning of paper or the nib of a pen scraping along a page.
Studying with someone else wasn’t as fun as I’d imagined. Honestly, it felt like it would’ve been better to just study alone. It wasn’t any different from doing it separately. Not one bit.
After about two hours, I started getting restless. My head ached. I wanted to lie down on the floor and stay there. One thing was for sure—Park Sion hadn’t been bullshitting when he said he was good at studying. His level of concentration was on a whole other level compared to me, someone who floats in the upper-middle tier at best. I’d been stuck on the same page for a while now, sighing under my breath as I stared at the workbook.
“Wanna take a break?”
Park Sion lifted his head and looked at me.
Maybe I’d made it too obvious how little I wanted to be doing this.
I was a little embarrassed—but only for a moment.
Before he even finished the sentence, I tilted my head back and leaned it against the couch.
I heard the sound of Park Sion exhaling through a laugh.
“You should’ve said something if it was too much.”
“Well… you looked super focused.”
“You don’t have to match my pace.”
Park Sion came over to my side. He leaned his head against the couch just like I had.
A groan escaped from me involuntarily.
My neck and shoulders were stiff from keeping my head bowed.
I stretched my arms upward like I was yawning.
Park Sion copied me, stretching his arms the same way.
And then, like always, he draped his arm over my shoulder.
Right after that, he nuzzled his face against me.
“I’m sleepy.”
He said it like it was nothing.
I nodded without thinking.
We sat like that for a long time, leaning into the couch.
I tended to talk less in front of Park Sion, and he wasn’t the type to chatter anyway.
But the silence between us now felt different from the emptiness earlier.
It was soft. Comfortable.
Not awkward at all.
“Yoon Seonwoo.”
“Yeah?”
“Isn’t it lonely, living by yourself?”
At his question, I opened my eyes.
I turned my head slightly, and he lifted his too.
His pale face filled my entire field of view.
I looked away and turned my head toward the ceiling again.
Am I lonely?
I’m not sure.
“I don’t know.”
There was a time when being alone in a silent, empty living room scared me.
The clinking of dishes, the sound of my dad laughing at a comedy show, my mom calling my name—all those noises disappeared, and what replaced them was a suffocating stillness that pressed down on me.
The loneliness weighed on me so heavily I felt like I couldn’t breathe.
But now, I’m not afraid of a dark living room anymore.
“I guess I’ve gotten used to it…”
Every person has their own share of loneliness.
Mine wasn’t anything special.
Just like everyone else, I endured mine.
That’s how I learned to get used to being alone.
At my answer, Park Sion exhaled slowly.
It sounded a lot like a sigh.
“There you go, putting up walls again.”
“……”
“I was going to ask if I could use that as an excuse to come over more often, if you said you were lonely.”
That caught me off guard.
When I turned my head, our eyes met instantly.
I didn’t even think to look away.
Park Sion’s face was calm, but his eyes locked onto me and wouldn’t let go.
A long silence followed.
It wasn’t like I had any real intention of pushing him away. But it seemed Park Sion took what I said as me drawing a line between us. The same guy who’d always ignored the obvious walls I put up now showed a twinge of disappointment at a single, thoughtless sentence. I couldn’t quite understand how someone like him would show me a glimpse of his honest feelings over something so small—and at the same time, it made me laugh a little. Not because I thought he was ridiculous or anything. It was just that the reaction was so far removed from the image I had of him that it felt awkwardly charming.
My lips curled up without me realizing. I swallowed back the laugh that was about to break out and said,
“Come over whenever.”
“Really? Are you sure?”
“Yeah. It’s not like there’s anyone around I need to be careful in front of anyway.”
A satisfied smile spread across Park Sion’s face. “Don’t complain if I come too often,” he said, his voice thick with amusement. The corners of his eyes, which had seemed sharp and cold when expressionless, now curved into a shape that looked surprisingly pretty when he smiled. And now that I looked closely, he had dimples. Just a faint indentation in the middle of his pale cheeks.
I stared blankly at Park Sion’s smiling face. So this is what they mean by the power of good looks. I’d known he was handsome, but I hadn’t realized just how ridiculously handsome he was.
“What’re you staring at so hard?”
“You’re fucking handsome.”
The words came out just like that. I regretted it for a split second, but oh well—it was the truth.
Park Sion burst out laughing. His laugh, free of any calculation, sounded bright and crisp. He kept chuckling for a while, his shoulders shaking, and when our eyes met, he smiled with his eyes. His hand suddenly reached out and messed up my bangs. And for some reason, that touch didn’t feel unpleasant.
“God, seriously, Yoon Seonwoo.”
Was it that damned perfect face, or the way his laughter didn’t feel fake? Whatever it was, I didn’t see Park Sion as a hypocrite anymore. He didn’t scare me anymore either. The constant suspicion I carried around, the wariness that had me watching him like a threat, all of that had started to fade. The hand resting on my shoulder, the weight of him leaning against me like a clingy kid, the mischief sparkling in his eyes—all of it looked different now. I stopped trying to figure out what he might be hiding.
For the first time, I saw him clearly.
“What’s so funny?”
“You. That came outta nowhere.”
Come to think of it, it really had. I’d just been staring blankly at him and suddenly tossed out a line about his looks. I ended up laughing too, letting out a breathy chuckle as if caught in the absurdity of the moment. Park Sion slowly edged closer to me and leaned against my body. Damn, he was seriously good at being clingy.
“Hey, you’re heavy.”
When I shook my shoulder, his temple lightly bumped into it with a soft thud. He still had that smile on his face. I twisted my torso just slightly, and he jabbed at my side. I tried to nudge his upper body off me a bit, but he kept pressing his head against mine, so I pushed his cheek away this time. Even my lips started curling up with the same teasing smirk he always wore. The way we looked right now, it almost felt like we were actual friends. Maybe we really were.
We kept fooling around and giggling for a while like that. The sound of laughter—belonging to who knows who—felt unfamiliar. In this living room of mine, where only silence had ever piled up like dust, a feathery little laugh had settled softly into the air.
****
The French philosopher Sartre once said that hell is other people. That no matter how much effort you make, you’ll never truly encounter the other person’s real self. That the other is an abyss you can’t understand or grasp. Of course, the same goes for the other person too.
Two people who can never truly understand each other. You and I, who can only evaluate one another on a surface level. Maybe the hell Sartre talks about—the hell that is other people—is just a metaphysical expression of that old proverb: “You can know the depth of water, but not the depth of a person.”
And honestly, I think Sartre was right. I’m not sure about the hell part, but when it comes to Park Sion, abyss definitely fits.
The first time our eyes met, I was convinced Park Sion was dangerous. I didn’t want to get involved with him, not ever. Arrogant hypocrite. That was how I defined the real Park Sion.
But the closer I got to him, the more that image started to blur. Now, I don’t really know what kind of person Park Sion is.
He’s definitely aware of how attractive he is. On top of that, he knows how to tilt any situation to his advantage. Arrogant, cunning hypocrite. But is that really all there is to Park Sion? What were the parts of him I failed to account for?
“Yoon Seonwoo, zoning out again.”
“You’re suffocating. Move over.”
Maybe the arrogant hypocrite wasn’t Park Sion. Maybe it was me—thinking I could figure him out completely based on just one impression.
“Stop clinging to me.”
“No.”
“You’re seriously heavy.”
The moment the bell rang to signal the end of class, Park Sion reached out his long arm and yanked me close, same as always. These days, we repeated this dumb little ritual nearly every day. I grumbled about how annoying it was, and Park Sion just giggled and ignored me.
At some point, I stopped feeling the need to watch what I said around him. I no longer froze up, carefully choosing every word so I wouldn’t touch a nerve. I said what I wanted, and sometimes I even swore right to his face. I stopped trying to control my expressions too. There was no longer any need to worry that he might fuck up my peaceful school life.
“You said if I was uncomfortable, you wouldn’t touch me.”
“Your shoulder’s not gonna fall off just from an arm.”
“You’ll stunt my growth.”
“Then don’t grow. You’re cute like this.”
“Ugh.”
My face twisted in disgust at his bullshit.
Turns out, Park Sion had thicker skin than I expected. He said cringy shit with such ease, and even when I made faces at him, he just kept smiling. When Shin Jaeyoung smiled, I wanted to spit right on his dumb fucking face—but weirdly enough, I didn’t feel that way about Park Sion at all.
“Stop smiling. I might start liking you.”
“You still have feelings left to give?”
The cold double eyelids, that deep gaze, rippled slowly. He smiled radiantly. Just watching that expression on his face made a stupid little chuckle bubble out of me too.
I was especially weak to the way Park Sion smiled with his eyes. I’d always believed I wasn’t the kind of dumbass who fell for a pretty face, but you know what? Screw that. Turns out I’m weak to appearances.
“What’s with the stare? Still stuck on how hot I am?”
“Jesus. Let it go already.”
One compliment about his looks, and he milks it forever. Park Sion loved using my sincere words just to tease me. If I’d known he’d be like this, I wouldn’t have said shit.
“Don’t you ever go to the bathroom?”
“Why, you going? Let’s go together.”
The moment he looked like he was actually about to stand up, I just shut my mouth.
Maybe he’s got some kind of affection deficit. That’s my reasonable suspicion. He was clingy even before we got close, but now that we are, it’s like he can’t go anywhere unless I’m glued to his side.
The reason we became friends this fast was probably because of Park Sion’s shameless physical closeness. He stepped into my space without hesitation, crossed every line I drew, and knocked down all the walls I tried to put up. And little by little, I got used to it.
When I made a dumbfounded face, Park Sion leaned in and looked straight at me. At some point, the arm that had been resting on the chair had wrapped around my shoulder again.
This really wasn’t the same guy. I couldn’t believe that the one smiling like an idiot in front of me now was the same guy who’d looked me up and down with a frosty stare on the first day I transferred.
“I didn’t know you were such a goddamn weirdo.”
“So? You hate it?”