Of course not. No way I’d hate you. You’re the first friend I ever made.
But instead of answering, I just shoved the bastard’s cheek away.
The Other is an abyss. Sartre was right about that. Because Park Sion is, to me, an endlessly distant pond. A deep, deep pond with no visible end. Even if I stayed friends with Park Sion for the rest of my life, would I ever be able to clearly define what kind of person he is?
But maybe, like he said, the Other isn’t always hell. Sartre was wrong about that part.
“Do you hate me?”
“I do. Satisfied?”
“Liar.”
At the very least, I want to believe that.
****
Saying that eating alone isn’t embarrassing only flies in the adult world where everyone’s brain is fully developed. In high school, eating alone is still synonymous with being a loser.
After I started having lunch with Park Sion’s crew, I didn’t have to walk around with an outcast label anymore. Back when I used to scarf down food out of sight, I was constantly getting indigestion. It’s been a long time since I last had to throw back antacids.
Kim Youngjin’s dumbass questions are still annoying, and Shin Jaeyoung is still a pain in the ass, but just like they’ve gotten used to me being there, I’ve gotten used to eating lunch with them.
“Hey, Yoon Seonwoo. You know today’s lunch menu? You like seafood?”
“Yeah, I do.”
“I love shrimp. You like shrimp?”
“I can’t eat it. I’m allergic to shellfish.”
“You dumbass, didn’t you just say you like seafood?”
“I do like seafood. I just can’t eat shellfish.”
“What the hell are you talking about? Shrimp is seafood.”
“No, I mean like crab, shrimp, lobster—crustaceans. I can’t eat those.”
“What the fuck is a crustacean?”
“I literally just told you. Crab, shrimp—forget it. My bad.”
As soon as the lunch bell rang, Kim Youngjin came running over to our class and bombarded me with his usual barrage of questions. I half-assed my way through them, and Park Sion followed close behind me. When Shin Jaeyoung stepped into the hallway yawning, Youngjin’s booming “Why the hell is this asshole late every day?” blended with the clatter of footsteps. We walked together through the noise. It was always the same routine.
“Yoon Seonwoo.”
Like always, Park Sion was using me as an armrest as we walked down the hallway when Shin Jaeyoung called out my name. I turned my head slightly. He looked between Park Sion’s arm over my shoulder and the expression on my face, then shook his head in disbelief.
“I can’t even tell you how disappointed I am in you.”
What the hell do you want me to say to that?
I didn’t say anything. I wasn’t friends with Shin Jaeyoung—Park Sion was. If I got on Jaeyoung’s bad side for no reason and he did something, I’d be the one paying for it. I was fully aware I was at the bottom of the food chain in this group.
I parted my lips reluctantly. Disappointment only exists where expectations do, and I had no clue what expectations Shin Jaeyoung thought he had for me. Honestly, I didn’t care to know, either.
“You’re more guarded than I thought—”
“Shin Jaeyoung.”
The curt voice that cut him off belonged to Park Sion. The hand that had been resting on my shoulder dropped. He stepped beside Shin Jaeyoung and grabbed him by the shoulder—way rougher than how he’d touched me.
Shin Jaeyoung’s pretty tall, but standing next to Park Sion, he just looked average. Park Sion’s long arm came down across Jaeyoung’s upper body like it was pinning him in place. Jaeyoung raised both his hands into the air with a frustrated face. Even with that clear surrender, Park Sion kept his grip on Jaeyoung’s shoulder and pushed ahead of him. Guess he really is the clingy type—even with Shin Jaeyoung.
“Come on, why can’t I talk to Yoon Seonwoo for once?”
I heard Shin Jaeyoung’s voice complaining behind me. I shrugged the now-light shoulder and took a step forward. Kim Youngjin had somehow appeared next to me again.
“What’s up with them? The hell are they doing?”
“Beats me.”
Youngjin pointed at them with his finger. Like I’d know what’s going on if he doesn’t.
“Forget them. Let’s just go eat.”
I said, giving Youngjin a light pat on the back. Without a word, he headed toward the cafeteria, and I followed at a more relaxed pace. His strides were longer, so I naturally ended up walking behind him.
“If you’re late, the line’s gonna be long. Hurry up.”
The guy who was practically speed-walking suddenly stopped and turned back to look at me. He stuck his arm out and waved me over like we were old buddies. Didn’t suit him at all. I pulled my hand out of my pocket and muttered,
“If you’re in such a rush, just go on ahead.”
“Then you’ll be waiting alone.”
“Park Sion and Shin Jaeyoung are probably already in line.”
“Oh. Right.”
Youngjin made a dumb face. Weird how a guy who’s usually good at cutting the line forgot that. I shook my head and stepped up beside him as he kept rushing me. Like it was second nature, he threw his arm around my shoulder.
After eating lunch together for nearly a month, he’d started acting way more friendly.
“You treating me like an armrest now?”
“When did I ever do that?”
“Just now.”
“Then you lean on me too.”
Youngjin bent his knees a little and offered me his shoulder. I awkwardly slung my arm over it. The height difference made the whole pose look ridiculous.
“Man, isn’t this kind of gross?”
“We’re friends, aren’t we?”
Youngjin looked at me like it was the most natural thing in the world. Since when the hell did I become this guy’s friend? Just a little while ago he thought I was gay and acted like I was a disease.
I gave him an awkward smile at his sudden change of attitude. My arm was starting to ache. I finally dropped it off his shoulder.
Youngjin looked down at me with that dumb expression, like he found the whole situation hilarious.
“They’re serving fried shrimp today.”
“That why you asked if I liked shrimp earlier?”
“Yeah. You’ll give me yours, right?”
“Yeah, take it all.”
Just as I was about to say now get your damn arm off me, Youngjin’s palm came up close to my face. I flinched instinctively.
But instead of the dull thud I expected, I felt a ticklish brushing on my hair.
Like he was petting a dog, Youngjin ruffled my bangs with his hand.
“When Park Sion first brought you over, I fucking hated it.”
“……”
“But you’re not as bad as I thought.”
So this is what it means to trade fried shrimp for approval. The side dishes I kept handing him just to shut him up came back to me as this overly generous judgment: “not a bad guy.” What a simple bastard. Still, I didn’t really mind. Being an invisible loner was better than being a total outcast, being a bread shuttle was better than that, being an armrest was better than that, and being someone’s friend—yeah, that felt even better.
“Come on, let’s go before they run out of fried stuff.”
At my words, Kim Youngjin started walking briskly down the hallway again. For a second, his face looked… kind. Kim Youngjin and kindness—now that was a godawful combo, but he really did look like that.
Just like how, when I stripped away the prejudice and paranoia, Park Sion no longer seemed like an arrogant hypocrite, Kim Youngjin also began to look different to me. Maybe he’s kind of simple and rough, but maybe he’s not such a bad guy after all.
Maybe all close relationships start from vague expectations like these.
The line at the cafeteria was long. Kim Youngjin kept turning his head this way and that, trying to spot Park Sion and Shin Jaeyoung. Not wanting to get dirty looks for cutting the line, I lightly grabbed his arm and pulled him to the back.
“Where the hell’d those bastards go?”
“They probably already got their food and are saving seats. Let’s just get in line.”
I handed my tray to Kim Youngjin.
Standing right next to me, he kept rambling about nothing useful. While half-listening to him, I noticed Jung Suwon approaching from a distance. He was looking down at his phone, didn’t seem to see me. He stepped into line behind me, still with his head down, so I picked up an extra tray and held it out to him.
“Hey.”
“……”
“Eating school lunch today, huh?”
Ever since we ran into each other at the snack bar, he hadn’t said a word to me. Whether it was in class or in the halls, it was obvious he was deliberately avoiding me. It felt stupid to try talking to someone who kept dodging me, so I hadn’t tried. But now that we were face to face, there didn’t seem to be any need to ignore him either.
But Jung Suwon’s reaction wasn’t what I expected. He looked back and forth between me and Kim Youngjin, and his brow creased ever so slightly. There was open discomfort flickering in his eyes.
“Uh…”
Suwon stared quietly at the tray I offered. My hand, stuck in midair, felt awkward. I slowly put the tray back down. Had I done something wrong?
I tried to think of anything I might’ve done to Suwon. But nothing came to mind. We weren’t close enough for me to have even had the chance to screw up. Unfortunately, we had no real connection at all.
Embarrassment and confusion slowly spread across my face. My cheeks started to burn. While I stood there biting my lip in unease, Suwon turned away from me. Without thinking, my hand reached out and caught his arm.
“You’re not eating?”
What I really wanted to ask was, Why do you keep avoiding me? Did I do something wrong? But what actually came out of my mouth was a question that carefully sidestepped the real issue.
His eyes wavered as I held onto his arm. Even though nobody was looking, he glanced around nervously before yanking his arm free with a rough motion.
“Hey, Yoon Seonwoo.”
His voice was cold, sharp. The blatant hostility didn’t make sense—not between us. Like I said, we weren’t even close enough to hate each other.
“Don’t do that to me again.”
But Suwon shoved me away like he couldn’t even tolerate the smallest contact. His gentle-looking face was frozen over with coldness. My gaze dropped to the back of my hand where he’d slapped it away. It didn’t hurt. But my chest throbbed. I was used to rejection, but getting it from someone I actually liked—that stung. Suwon looked back at me with a complicated expression.
In his trembling eyes, I saw the emotions bleeding through—guilt, and regret. I wanted to ask him: If you feel so bad, then why push me away? But I couldn’t. Because the emotion chasing right behind that guilt… was fear.
“Hey, what the fuck’s your problem with Yoon Seonwoo?”
“……”
“Jesus, what a fucking asshole.”
Kim Youngjin, standing beside me, glared fiercely. If Youngjin got involved, the one who’d end up in trouble would be Suwon—no question. And I didn’t want to back him into a corner. For some reason, I had this certainty that I was the one making him uncomfortable. Even if I hadn’t meant to, that didn’t excuse it. I stopped Youngjin from going after him.
“He probably felt weird about me grabbing him all of a sudden.”
I saw Suwon’s back as he walked away from me. Looked like he was skipping lunch in the cafeteria again and heading to the snack bar. My mouth felt bitter for no reason.
“What, does that bastard think he’s made of gold or something? You can’t even touch him now? Why the fuck is he acting like you’re a freak?”
“You know the rumors about me.”
I dragged out my own humiliation just to defend him. I felt pathetic. But it was the only way to make sense of it all.
“What rumors?”
“That I’m a pervert.”
“Fuck that. You don’t look like a pervert.”
“……”
“Anyone with half a brain can tell it was Kim Shinju spewing bullshit.”
Guess it’s true what they say—frogs forget they were once tadpoles. Kim Youngjin seemed to have completely forgotten how he used to act.
Come to think of it, though, even if he bugged the hell out of me, Youngjin never actually called me a pervert.
He just kept asking questions.
Are you a pervert? Are you gay? Did you really go after Kim Shinju?
He kept throwing those offensive questions at me, but he never straight-up labeled me a sex offender. I used to think he was just a dumbass, but turns out he’s more normal than I thought.
Suddenly, I found myself feeling weirdly proud of him.
“Whatever. Hurry up and move. People are waiting behind us.”
I forced my face back to neutral. Put on a blank expression and gave Youngjin a pat on the back. True to form, he spat out a few rough curses and then focused on the food piling onto his tray.
We pushed through the crowd together and headed to the spot Park Sion and Shin Jaeyoung had saved for us. Jaeyoung looked like he’d just chewed on a turd, and Park Sion greeted me with that usual faint smile of his.
“Wow, you guys ditched us and went ahead, huh.”
At Youngjin’s grumble, Jaeyoung just nodded toward Park Sion.
As if to say, if you wanna bitch, bitch at this bastard instead.
It wasn’t like the atmosphere was ever particularly loud, but today it felt unusually quiet. That was mostly because Shin Jaeyoung, who usually humored Kim Youngjin’s chatter, had kept his mouth shut. I didn’t feel like eating either, probably because of what happened with Jung Suwon earlier. I had a feeling that the reason he was acting so cold toward me had something to do with Park Sion. Of course, that was just a gut feeling—there wasn’t much objective evidence to back it up.
Watching Kim Youngjin clear his tray like a machine, I handed him all my fried shrimp. I was worried he might bring up what happened with Jung Suwon if I didn’t. As soon as I passed it over, he broke out into that dopey grin again. His face looked so stupidly idiotic that I let out a breathy, deflated laugh without meaning to. At this rate, I might actually get attached to this idiot.
“Yoon Seonwoo.”
My head jerked up at the sound of my name. The moment I locked eyes with Park Sion, his emotionless voice and chilly stare made the back of my neck stiffen. I looked at him, confused.
“Are you Kim Youngjin’s mom or something?”
“Huh? What?”
“Stop babying him and eat your food.”
The already heavy mood fell flat like a bucket of cold water had been dumped on it. Kim Youngjin and I stared at him with identical blank looks. The corners of Park Sion’s mouth, which normally curled ever so slightly upward, had completely disappeared. He said nothing else, just stared at the two of us in silence before slowly lowering his gaze.
I couldn’t make sense of it. It wasn’t like it was the first time I’d given Youngjin some of my food. There was no reason for him to suddenly snap like that. Just a few minutes ago, he’d been acting so friendly—it was hard to believe it was even the same person. Cold, unfamiliar eyes. No… not unfamiliar. I’d seen that look in his eyes before, that chill. It shot straight through me. I kept rubbing the edge of my tray with my fingers. It felt cold.
“What the fuck is with this guy?”
“……”
“My mom’s alive and well, you dick. Where the hell do you get off making mom jokes? And Seonwoo’s a guy—how’s he supposed to be my mom? Not even my dad.”
Kim Youngjin, sitting next to me, glared at Park Sion. I couldn’t tell if he was standing up for me or just looking for an excuse to talk shit. It was a dumb comment, sure, but not technically wrong. Say what you will—he talks crap, but it’s rarely complete crap.
Even Shin Jaeyoung, who’d been sulking until now, gave a short laugh at Youngjin’s retort. I thought that might be enough to break the tension, just a little, but Park Sion’s mouth didn’t even twitch. He stared at Youngjin with an unmistakable slant in his gaze, and a chill ran down my spine.
A heavy silence dragged on. Youngjin glanced back at him just once, then went back to shoveling food into his mouth. The only person who could possibly defuse this was Shin Jaeyoung, but instead of looking at Park Sion or Youngjin, he kept throwing side-eyes at me. I didn’t know what the hell he expected me to do.
If I were even a little better with words, I probably would’ve tried saying something to break the mood. But unfortunately, that’s not something I’m good at. I kept my head down and ate plain rice. I couldn’t taste anything. It felt like chewing on sand.
In the end, lunch got stuck in my throat. If anyone came out of that meal without indigestion, it had to be Kim Youngjin or someone with a stomach made of steel.
The mood that Park Sion had wrecked with a single sentence didn’t bounce back. The awkward silence stretched on all the way to the end of lunch. Shin Jaeyoung occasionally snapped with irritation, and Kim Youngjin grumbled nonstop with a tight look on his face. And me—I went back into loner mode, keeping my mouth shut and using all my nerves just to read the mood again.
And the only one who looked completely unaffected was Park Sion. He was the one who ruined the atmosphere, but his face looked the most relaxed of all. He walked beside me on our way back to class, fingers playing idly with the hair at the back of my head. I hadn’t realized he was this emotionally unpredictable. I leaned away from his touch, but of course, he didn’t seem to care. My chest felt tight, and I let out a shallow sigh.
“Why do you keep sighing?”
He asked as he ran his fingers through my hair. Was he seriously asking, like he didn’t know what he'd just done? I pressed a hand to my chest, trying to flatten the tightness.
“I think I’ve got indigestion.”
“You do?”
A slight crease appeared between Park Sion’s brows.
“Yeah. Seems like it.”
“Go back to class first.”
The hand on my head disappeared, and he walked off in the opposite direction from the classroom. Only then did I finally feel like I could breathe. I thought I was going to suffocate. Just when I was starting to get used to him, everything snapped right back to the beginning. Park Sion does whatever the hell he wants, and I walk on eggshells trying to keep up with him.
I returned to class alone. I felt like I was going to have a mental breakdown. The exhaustion hit hard, and I collapsed onto my desk. Not long after, I felt someone approach. Park Sion gently took my shoulder and sat me up.
“Drink this.”
He had a small glass bottle with the fan logo on it and a single digestion pill. He twisted off the cap and brought it up to my lips. I hurried to take it myself and tossed the pill into my mouth. The cool bitterness settled the nausea sitting in my chest. He took the empty bottle and the trash, dumped them in the bin, and sat beside me again. He held out his hand.
“Let me see your hand.”
Like a trained dog, I put my hand in his before he even finished talking. His long, pale fingers wrapped tightly around mine. He gave my hand a few small taps before I opened my palm, and he pressed the spot between my thumb and index finger. His touch was cold.
“Ah—!”
“Breathe. It has to hurt for it to work.”
He said it softly. His touch was calm, cool.
“Do you get indigestion a lot?”
“Not really. Just sometimes.”
“It’s because of me, isn’t it.”
“……”
“Sorry.”
Park Sion looked at me. Our eyes met in the air between us. He stared straight at me, his voice quiet, his touch soft, his gaze steady. More than anything, I could feel that he was worried about me. I parted my lips. Could I ask what he was really upset about?
“Why did you do that?”
At my vague question, he narrowed his eyes slightly. His gaze drifted for a moment before returning to me, locking onto my face. I didn’t look away.
“You wear everything on your face.”
His vague reply matched my vague question. It wasn’t the answer I wanted. I frowned.
“See? I can tell exactly what you’re thinking right now.”
The fingers that had been playing with my hand tapped lightly at my forehead. Park Sion let out a low chuckle.
“Don’t be too nice to Kim Youngjin.”
“When was I—”
“You think he’s a decent guy, don’t you.”
“……”
“Don’t you?”
His voice, low and deliberate, cut straight through me. I couldn’t say anything, because it wasn’t entirely wrong.
Out of everything surrounding me, Kim Youngjin was the only one I could actually understand. He was simple, transparent.
That gross curiosity mixed with disgust he showed when we first met had pissed me off, sure, but it wasn’t complicated.
The sudden friendliness he’d been showing me lately—shallow as it was—was just as clear.
I liked that about him.
I didn’t have to overthink or second-guess every little thing.
Was Park Sion angry because I thought Kim Youngjin was decent?
If so, I didn’t really get why that would be something to get mad about.
Even though I had a guess about why he was acting this way, I still felt lost.
“Is it wrong to think he’s decent?”
“Yeah.”
“Why? Wouldn’t it be better if we all just got along?”
Park Sion was friends with both Youngjin and Jaeyoung. He had plenty of people who followed him around, but the only ones he actually spent time with were those two. So if I was getting along with his friends, shouldn’t that be a good thing for him too?
I stared at Park Sion’s face and tilted my head, waiting for his answer. But he just smiled that same shallow smile and said nothing. Like he’d been caught off guard and had nothing to say. Like he knew his logic didn’t even make sense.
“How’s your stomach now?”
That question meant he was dodging. I still wanted an explanation for what had happened, but he didn’t seem interested in giving one. Still holding my hand, he asked again,
“Feeling better?”
“Yeah. I’m okay now.”
When I tried to pull my hand away, he held on again. Kept his head down and gently rubbed my hand. The knot in my palm was slowly softening. Just like he said, the weight in my stomach was easing. I mumbled that he could stop now, but he didn’t even respond.
I sat there silently and waited for him to finish fiddling with my hand. His lips, when I glanced at them, were curled ever so slightly in that sly, unreadable smile.