I turned my gaze back to Park Sion, who was touching my hair again. At that exact moment, the class bell rang. Everyone returned to their seats. For a brief moment, the classroom filled with a chaotic clamor. Park Sion’s hand left me, as if reluctant to let go.
Suddenly, Park Sion’s behavior started to feel unfamiliar. Something was off. Even if I’d never had a close friend before, I could say with certainty that this wasn’t within the bounds of normal. Because Park Sion didn’t act like this around Kim Youngjin. Or around Shin Jaeyoung, either. And I’ve never done anything this embarrassingly sentimental with someone I actually consider a friend—like Youngjin.
Once the question entered my mind, it wouldn’t leave. For the entire class, a giant question mark floated around in my head.
Are the things Park Sion does to me even acceptable between friends? Is there anything normal about our relationship at all? If this isn’t normal, then why does Park Sion treat me in an abnormal way? And most importantly—how do we look to everyone else? As those uncomfortable thoughts piled up, Jung Suwon’s eyes, full of disdain, crashed down on me like a wave.
Park Sion had clearly said he was the type to get handsy with people. And sure enough, he liked physical contact. Whenever he had the chance, he’d lean on me or touch parts of my body. Crossing the lines I’d drawn was basically his hobby and specialty. And the thing was… I didn’t completely hate the way he constantly showed affection toward me.
But the excessive affection Park Sion showed only applied to me. He never acted that way toward Kim Youngjin or Shin Jaeyoung. His gaze toward them was so flat it was almost cold, and his tone when speaking to them couldn’t be more indifferent. I couldn’t even imagine Park Sion putting his arm around their shoulders like he did with me. Sure, he once threw his arm over Shin Jaeyoung’s shoulder, but it didn’t feel the same. He doesn’t handle me like that—like I’m just one of the guys.
The way Park Sion treats me is definitely strange. And it’s not just about the physical contact. There was that time he got mad at me just because I seemed to like Kim Youngjin. I mean, sure—jealousy isn’t exclusive to romantic relationships, but even so, that reaction was too much for a friendship. No matter how hard I try to look at it without bias, Park Sion’s version of friendship is just too much. It’s already gone beyond what you could call normal.
I couldn’t focus on the lesson at all. All my nerves were tuned into Park Sion sitting next to me. There’s no way he realizes how confused I am right now.
Unlike me—scattering my gaze all over the place in a haze—Park Sion sat straight and focused on the class. But just like always, the hand that didn’t take notes slowly crept toward my desk. His left arm reached toward my right arm, which was holding a pencil. His eyes remained fixed forward.
At first, it was our elbows that touched. Then the back of our arms. And finally, when his pinky finger brushed against my ring finger, Park Sion gently moved it. The point where our skin met was barely half a centimeter wide—but from that single point of contact, a current shot through my entire body.
Cold sweat formed in my clenched fist. It felt like someone was blowing lightly from my chest down to my lower stomach. Maybe it was the heat in the room, but I even felt a faint warmth creeping in. Just as I felt my cheeks start to flush, I yanked my arm away from his. I didn’t want anyone to see me like that. My mouth filled with saliva.
I could feel someone staring at me, watching the way I suddenly pulled my arm back. But I didn’t turn my head. Until the end of class, my eyes darted between my textbook and the blackboard. I couldn’t remember a single thing from the lesson. All I did was avoid Park Sion’s gaze every time I felt it land on me.
“Are you feeling sick?”
As soon as class ended, Park Sion’s hand pressed against my forehead. He moved so fast I couldn’t dodge him, so I just rolled my eyes, trying to avoid his.
“You don’t have a fever.”
The hand that had touched my forehead slowly drifted down, lingering near my face. The coolness of his hand brushing against my flushed cheek was strangely refreshing. So much so that I almost wanted to rub my face against it, shame be damned.
That cool touch slowly traced down my cheek, slid along my neck, and then began gently brushing the back of my head. Tilting his head slightly, Park Sion looked at me as if trying to pierce through my thoughts. Like he was silently asking, Why are you acting like this? Say it.
“Hey, your hand…”
“Hm?”
“Can you move your hand?”
“Why all of a sudden?”
“…Haa. We need to talk for a minute.”
I let out a deep sigh and spoke as calmly as I could. I gently removed Park Sion’s hand from the back of my head, careful not to come off as aggressive. He didn’t say anything, just quietly observed what I was doing. Then he asked, with that same innocent tone,
“Why?”
“Uh…”
I racked my brain, trying to figure out how to say this without hurting him. No matter how hard I thought, no sentence came to mind. I spent a long moment trying to come up with a softer version of “What the hell am I to you? Stop petting me like a dog. People are gonna get the wrong idea.” But I knew it’d probably come out raw anyway, because I suck at filtering my words.
“You’re acting kinda weird.”
I spoke with my fists clenched tight.
“Weird how?”
“Touching my face, playing with my hands, slinging your arm over me all the time…”
“Why?”
Park Sion asked again, his eyes curving into crescent moons with a soft smile. He didn’t seem offended—thank God—but it was also clear he hadn’t grasped the point.
“What do you mean why, it’s… between guys, this kinda stuff is…”
“Yeah.”
“It’s… embarrassing.”
“You’re ticklish, huh?”
“That’s not what I meant…”
A sigh escaped without me realizing. Why’s he like this when he’s usually so sharp? The guy who could read between the lines even when I said shit awkwardly is now dodging the point on purpose. I glared, studying his expression. Is he just playing dumb, or is this his usual shameless act? I couldn’t tell.
“It’s just… this kind of thing is embarrassing.”
“Me being friendly with you?”
“Yeah.”
“Why?”
Because we’re friends. Because you were the one who kept saying we were friends. I lowered my voice, trying to stay calm.
“What exactly are we?”
“Probably… friends?”
Park Sion let out a deflated laugh as he answered.
“Yeah. You and I are friends.”
“Right.”
“And we’re both guys.”
“Right.”
“Isn’t that… weird, between friends?”
“What’s weird about it?”
“It’s just… too much…”
“What’s too much?”
Park Sion clung to every word I said like he was possessed by Socrates, throwing question after question. I felt like I was constantly being swept up in his pace.
“You don’t think this is weird?”
“Not really.”
“Do you hug Kim Youngjin or Shin Jaeyoung when you see them?”
“No.”
“Do you mess with their hair? Constantly throw your arm around their shoulders? Poke their cheeks? Press up against them?”
“No.”
“See? You only do that with me. That is weird.”
“Are you the same as those guys?”
Of course, we’re all different people. Different names, different personalities, different looks. But the fact remains that we’re all your friends. Still, Park Sion looked at me like I’d just asked something completely absurd. So I threw it right back at him, in the same bewildered tone.
“There’s no difference, is there?”
“Saying there’s no difference is basically admitting there is.”
“Don’t twist my words. That’s not what I meant.”
“So basically, Yoon Seonwoo, you’re saying you’re different to me from those guys.”
Our eyes locked. His voice held as much stubbornness as his gaze.
“What makes me different?”
A tense silence stretched between us. Park Sion held his tongue with unusual caution. I waited, determined to hear whatever he had to say. I wanted him to make sense of this.
“You’re different.”
“I’m asking, how?”
“I feel comfortable around you. That’s why I want to lean on you, get close to you. Touch you without keeping up formalities. But I don’t feel that way about the others.”
I was at a loss for words. My lips twitched. Looking at Park Sion’s calm, serious face, it didn’t seem like he was joking. And if he wasn’t joking, then that made it even more serious.
He reached out and gently took hold of my wavering hand. Our hands overlapped neatly.
“So yeah. You’re different. You’re special to me.”
I froze like stone. That word—special—landed with weight. So I’m special to you? Since when? When did I become someone special to Park Sion? We haven’t even known each other for that long.
But the truth was, special was a word that fit Park Sion more than me. He was the one who had always been special to me. The first person who approached me, who reached out without hesitation, who saw past the messy labels stuck to me and looked directly at who I was. Park Sion was the only one.
Not just one of the many faces in a packed classroom, but the only person who gave me a unique, specific meaning. If that’s what Park Sion meant when he said special, then it meant he was seeing me—really seeing me—without the stain of the label I’d been marked with.
I stared blankly at Park Sion sitting across from me. His fingers pressed a little more firmly around mine.
“Do you not like it when I do this?”
“It’s not that I don’t like it…”
“Then what?”
“It’s just… between guys, this kind of thing…”
“…”
“…It’s gross.”
Instead of the tangled meanings in my head, the bluntest, most explicit word spilled out. I should’ve filtered it. Should’ve said it differently. It was too late. Park Sion tilted his head.
“You think I’m gross?”
“That’s not it.”
“Am I gross?”
He asked again. He was smiling, but his lips had frozen into a hard line. I swallowed.
I’ve never thought Park Sion was gross. Even when he got overly touchy, I usually just let it slide. Sure, sometimes I felt uncomfortable. But over time, I’d gotten used to it. And sometimes, his warmth even felt comforting. Slowly, I shook my head. Park Sion wasn’t gross to me.
“No.”
“Then are you scared people will see us as gross?”
Park Sion had no trouble cutting straight to the heart of my fear. The grossness wasn’t about him—it was about everyone else’s eyes. The stares of Jung Suwon and the rest of the class weighed on me. I already carried the stigma of being accused of sexually harassing another boy. Getting involved with Park Sion in that way… it was just too dangerous. It wasn’t about protecting him. It was selfish, but it was about protecting my pride. I didn’t want to be called a homo, a pervert, or worse—especially not behind my back.
Park Sion’s frozen expression softened. He gently rubbed the back of my hand with his palm. A subtle warmth spread from his touch.
“People don’t care about us as much as you think. How we act—that’s up to us. Why let someone else set the standard?”
Was that it? A little philosophical wisdom about ignoring worldly standards and following your own values? Something you’d read in a book of life quotes. He wasn’t wrong. But that didn’t mean it was easy. If it were easy, it wouldn’t just be tossed around in pretty words—it would be lived.
I grew up as a normal person. I get swayed by what people think. A single careless word can shake me. When I feel their eyes on me, I can’t help but lower my head. Even now, as I listened to Park Sion’s words, my eyes wandered, searching the room.
I wanted to hide the hand he was holding. I didn’t want to do anything that could be misunderstood. And yet… part of me did want to be special to someone. Honestly, I wanted him to look at the real me—the one behind the scarlet letter branded across my chest.
“Yoon Seonwoo.”
“…Yeah?”
“Don’t worry. No one thinks it’s weird.”
Park Sion gave my hand a firm squeeze. I let him. The hand that wasn’t holding mine briefly brushed the corner of my mouth, where I’d been biting my lip. I stared blankly, tracking each of Park Sion’s movements with my eyes.
Is that really true? Like you said, do people really not care about us?
I don’t even know what part of me he finds worth liking. But hearing Park Sion call me a special friend… it felt good. It made my chest tighten with something like happiness. Even so, I wasn’t sure if just those words alone could make the unease disappear.
“Trust me.”
His sculpted face leaned sideways, toward my shoulder. Slowly, he leaned on me, resting his weight.
Park Sion’s presence settled heavily against me. I subtly raised my head to glance around the classroom. Just like he said, no one was looking. Not a single person was paying us any attention. The warmth of his body against my shoulder gently erased the doubts rising inside me.
****
The exams were over. As the final tests that had barely kept our eighteen-year-old impulses in check came to an end, the classroom burst into life. The early summer sunlight slipped in through the gap in the window.
The air was heavy and damp from the lack of air conditioning. Maybe it was the humidity, maybe it was the anticipation of the upcoming break—but everyone’s faces were flushed with color. Just a few hours ago, they were all pulling grim faces over the preliminary scoring sheets.
I was in a good mood too. The end of exams was reason enough, but my results were better than expected, which made it even better. Thanks to Park Sion’s intense tutoring, I managed to get a decent score in math—a subject where I’d never once broken 80. With my wreck of a student record, early college admission was a pipe dream, but it still felt good to get a solid result on something.
“Exams are over!”
Of course, the one who looked the happiest about that was, without question, Kim Youngjin. He never studied, but the second the final bell rang, he came running into our class with the expression of a slave freed from chains. Funny, I don’t recall him ever working hard enough to feel "freed." He’s a weird one.
He flailed his arms as he stood in front of me, grinning wide, his neat teeth on display. His eyes, flickering between me, Park Sion, and Shin Jaeyoung sitting in the back, sparkled with anticipation.
“Hey, what are you guys doing after this?”
I didn’t respond because I had nothing to say. Park Sion looked completely uninterested. Instead, it was Jaeyoung in the back who answered for us.
“What do you think? We’re meeting at Byeongjae’s place tonight.”
“That’s tonight. I mean before that.”
“Gonna sleep.”
Jaeyoung waved his hand dismissively. The dark circles under his eyes made it clear he’d probably pulled an all-nighter. He yawned like he didn’t even want to hear Youngjin’s suggestion. Unfazed, Youngjin turned his gaze to us. His eyes gleamed as he locked on to me and Park Sion.
“Let’s go to the PC bang.”
“Fuck off.”
Before the words were even out of Youngjin’s mouth, Park Sion shot him down. His reaction wasn’t much different from Jaeyoung’s, but Youngjin wasn’t one to back down that easily. He must’ve seen it coming, because he didn’t even flinch. Instead, he turned to me, grabbing my arm and putting on a pitiful face.
“Yoon Seonwoo, you busy too?”
“No, I was just gonna go home.”
The exams were over, so I’d planned to finally crash and catch up on all the sleep I’d missed. But the moment I said that, Youngjin’s face lit up. His wide, eager eyes made him look like an excited elementary schooler. With raised brows, he asked,
“You play Overwatch?”
“Yeah.”
“Then wanna hit the PC bang with me? I need to do my placement matches. Come on, say yes.”
“Sure.”
I used to be a regular at PC bangs, so I accepted without hesitation. There was no reason to say no. I was actually pretty good at the game he mentioned. Scratch that—I was damn good. Back when I had my profile open, elementary school kids would crowd around to watch me play. My in-game ranking was basically my only source of self-esteem back then.
“What’s your rank? If the gap’s too big, we won’t be able to queue together.”
Youngjin gave me a smug look as he looked me over. He clearly thought I was below him. I raised my chin slightly and stared back at him.
“Grandmaster.”
“Don’t lie.”
“I’m serious.”
“Yeah, right. Don’t joke.”
I wasn’t joking. Youngjin chuckled like I’d told him some stupid joke. He clearly didn’t believe a word of it, and it was kind of pathetic.
Guys with no real-life friends tend to flex in online games. That’s why we have the term ‘keyboard warrior.’ People who live and die by their win-loss ratio online usually don’t have much going for them offline. I was exactly that type. The only way I knew how to blow off steam was to imagine Kim Shinju’s skull as my enemy’s and land a clean headshot. Back when I practically lived at the PC bang, having my ID pop up in the top ranks was a regular occurrence.
Still, I didn’t want to come off as cocky, so I kept my mouth shut. I just felt a bit sorry for future Youngjin, who’d have to face the shocking truth. I patted him on the shoulder in consolation.
“Go check for yourself.”
“And if you’re lying?”
“I’ll buy you instant noodles.”
“And a hot bar too.”
“Deal.”
I wondered what kind of face Youngjin would make when he saw my profile. The thought of his dumbfounded expression made the corners of my mouth keep twitching up. Might as well carry him and boost his rank while I’m at it. I smiled at him as he continued staring at me with doubt in his eyes. “Ugh, your face is so smug,” Youngjin grumbled, glaring at me.
Suddenly, I felt a sharp stare. I didn’t need to look to know who it was. Who else would stare at me like that? Of course it was Park Sion. And sure enough, he stepped up to me in a flash.
“You’re really going?”
“Yeah. You wanna come too?”
“…”
“This guy doesn’t game. He probably doesn’t even have an account.”
Youngjin answered for him, inserting himself between us. Honestly, Park Sion and a PC bang—it’s not a combo that fits. Still, it’s a pretty famous game. For him not to even have an account, he must not be into gaming at all. It’s a shame. It’d be nice if he came along. I wanted to show him how good I actually was.
“Okay, I’ll come back after homeroom. Wait for me.”
After Youngjin headed back to class, Park Sion immediately scrunched up his face. He still looked good, of course—his face was annoyingly perfect even when he was scowling. I was already hyped at the idea of going to a PC bang with a friend, but I tried not to let it show. No need to push Sion’s buttons for no reason.
Until the end of homeroom, Park Sion kept his sulky expression. Every now and then, he poked my side and asked, “You’re really going?” Honestly, I didn’t even know how to answer that. What, am I supposed to go fake?
“Then come with us.”
“I don’t play games.”
“Try it. I’ll teach you.”
“Do you have to go?”
“Not really, but exams are over. I just wanted to play a match or two.”
My hands had been itching for a while anyway. And this wasn’t just any game session—I wouldn’t be a loner crouched in the corner but someone actually playing with a friend. I’ve always wanted to play like that, in a group, on voice chat. I didn’t care about the win or loss. I just wanted to belong somewhere.
If Sion came along, that’d be perfect. But I wasn’t going to drag him if he didn’t want to. Even if it was just me and Youngjin, I was going.
“You’ve got plans tonight anyway, right? If you’re tired, go home and rest.”
He was a smart kid, probably more worn out than Jaeyoung. I meant it thoughtfully, but when he heard me, the expression dropped off his face. From experience, that blank look meant he was actually pissed. It’d been a while since he gave off that intense vibe. I felt a little intimidated for the first time in ages. Guess even good intentions can piss him off.
“I don’t like this.”
“What now?”
I straightened my shoulders. I wanted to smack him, but instead, I gently patted his back.
I was happy to be his “special friend” and all, but sulking just because I’m going to a PC bang without him? That’s just childish.
“You’re going just the two of you?”
“Yeah. If you’re not coming, then it’s just us.”
“What’re you even gonna do there?”
“What do you think? Play games. Not like we’re gonna study.”
I answered like it was the most obvious thing in the world. What else would we do? Blow off steam by bashing in enemy heads, of course.
Annoyance twisted Park Sion’s sculpted features. His long fingers climbed from my shoulder up to the back of my neck, playing with my hair. Here we go again. Sometimes I wonder if I’m really Park Sion’s friend or just his emotional support plushie. The kind kids with separation anxiety carry around to feel safe. Maybe I should just be grateful he doesn’t use me as a punching bag.
At this point, I was so used to it that I didn’t even try to resist. I just let him touch my hair. No point dodging it. And like he said before, no one in this class was paying attention to us anyway.
In the end, Park Sion kept one part of me in his hand until homeroom ended and we walked out of the building. Jaeyoung looked at him with a disgusted expression.
“Jesus, you freak. That’s disgusting.”
“Mind your business.”
Jaeyoung shuddered like he’d seen something he couldn’t unsee. Park Sion looked impassive, but there was something sharp in the air around him. I was stuck awkwardly beside him. Jaeyoung smirked as he looked at the two of us.
“Hey, you better show up tonight.”
“Depends.”
“And leave your little puppy behind. If you bring him, you’re dead.”
When he said “puppy,” he looked straight at me. That son of a bitch—he meant me? Not that I was planning on showing up in the first place, but now that he told me to come alone, it pissed me off even more. Puppy? My face went cold. Jaeyoung looked back at me as I glared at him, and snorted.
He’s laughing? This fucker called me a dog and then laughed?
“You little shit, don’t look at me like that.”
He pushed my cheek lightly with the palm of his hand. It wasn’t quite a slap—more like the way you’d nudge an actual dog. That made it worse. My face twisted instinctively. I jerked my head back to avoid his touch and immediately clenched my fist, ready to throw it at any moment.
“You son of a bitch—”
“Want me to break your wrist?”
Before the words ‘you fucking bastard’ could even leave my mouth, Park Sion struck Jaeyoung’s arm. Hard. From the dull thud, it had to hurt, but Jaeyoung just kept grinning like an idiot. Fucking psycho.
“Fucking ridiculous.”
“Get lost.”
“I’m going, even if you try to stop me.”
Even after stirring up all that shit, Jaeyoung just smiled sweetly and waved at us. I kept glaring until he disappeared from view. I hope he trips over a rock and cracks his skull open, front or back, I don’t care. I was still seething even as I muttered curses in my head. It should’ve been my hand that smacked him, not Park Sion’s.
“Let’s go already,”
Kim Youngjin urged me, oblivious to the storm brewing inside. He tugged on my arm, all cheerful and shit, while I ground my teeth and rubbed the spot on my cheek where Jaeyoung had touched me. Park Sion stopped my hand. His palm, cool to the touch, cupped my cheek and gently rubbed at it with his thumb like he was trying to erase something.
Should’ve kicked him in the shin before Park Sion stepped in. Regret hit me like a wave. His hand, brushing my cheek, was only making things worse—because it kept bringing back the feeling of Jaeyoung’s touch.
I roughly pushed his arm away and walked up to Youngjin, who was already ahead. With a sour expression, I started walking beside him. But Park Sion pulled me back and positioned himself between us. Just like that, he placed himself in the middle.
“I’m coming too.”
At Park Sion’s sudden declaration, Youngjin’s eyes widened. I also turned to look at him.
“You are?”
“Why? Can’t I?”
“But you said you don’t play games.”
“I can learn. How hard could it be?”
“Do what you want.”
Fine, that was his choice. Honestly, I was glad he was coming.
The three of us walked down the street together. With two tall, broad-shouldered guys on either side, the sidewalk felt cramped. I slowed my pace a little, and Park Sion matched his stride to mine. In the end, he and I trailed behind Youngjin all the way to the PC bang.
The PC bang Youngjin led us to had great facilities. Rows of high-performance gaming monitors filled the space, clearly optimized for FPS. The smoking room was tucked away in a corner, so there was no gross cigarette smell. Already a regular, Youngjin slid into a seat and powered on the monitor without hesitation. Park Sion and I first had to register and load time onto the machines at the kiosk.
Park Sion, unfamiliar with the whole PC bang setup, fumbled through everything like a broken computer—from registration to account creation. I ended up doing it all for him. Registering, loading time, even setting up a game account. I’d never had the upper hand in our relationship before, so it felt oddly exciting.
“Do the tutorial here. Youngjin and I will start placement matches.”
“I want to play too.”
“You can’t.”
“Why not? I can do it.”
“You can’t queue for ranked games until you hit level 20.”
“Fuck…”
Park Sion swore under his breath. His face twisted as he glared at the monitor. Seeing him like this—awkward, clumsy—it made me laugh. He looked like the world was ending as he stumbled through the tutorial. I leaned in next to him to adjust his mouse sensitivity, and suddenly—
“Holy shit, Yoon Seonwoo’s actually Grandmaster!”
Youngjin, who had just logged in and added me as a friend, froze when he saw the glowing tier on my profile screen.
“Told you I was.”
“Are you out of your mind? You were a ranker? This isn’t your account, is it?”
“It is, dumbass.”
He blinked a couple more times, clearly unable to process it.
“Your most-played heroes are all DPS.”
“I have standards. I only play DPS.”
“Did someone boost you? Is that really your skill?”
“If you don’t believe me, let’s queue and find out.”
I checked Youngjin’s rank. Two tiers below mine. The gap was too wide, so I logged into my alt account instead. That one was in Diamond. At my level, I could carry even in Diamond.
While I was logging in, Youngjin was scanning my match history with eyes full of admiration.
“You feel different. I don’t recognize you, Seonwoo.”
“My tank account’s in Diamond. Let’s use that for your placements.”
I hated how puffed up I sounded, but what could I do? A loser like me only gets to act cool online. I skimmed over Youngjin’s stats.
“You play tank. If you go DPS, you’re throwing.”
“Ugh, why?”
“Look at your crit rate and K/D. You couldn’t carry in Plat. If you want to win, go tank. Or support.”
“Fine, but you better drive the damn bus straight.”
“Relax. I’m carrying you.”
I talked big, but since it’d been a while, my aim was off at first. Every time I missed a shot, Youngjin’s judging eyes stabbed at my cheek. But it didn’t take long for muscle memory to kick in. As soon as I got used to it, my aim started locking onto enemy heads like a magnet.
Thinking of Shin Jaeyoung’s smug face definitely helped. We started racking up wins. I was grabbing gold medals left and right. It was a win streak. A Grandmaster smurfing in Diamond as a DPS? Of course the games were one-sided. I caught a glimpse of Youngjin’s face—he was grinning from ear to ear.
“Yoon Seonwoo, you psycho! Why aren’t you going pro?”
“How’s the ride?”
“Smooth as hell, man. Sweet as fuck.”
Feeling good, Youngjin ruffled my hair with his big hand. At first, I used to hate it when he did that. I thought he was treating me like some mutt or a baby. But now, I just accept it as his weird way of showing affection. I sat there, quietly letting him mess up my hair—until Park Sion suddenly rested his chin on my shoulder.
I turned to the side. He still had the tutorial screen open and was staring daggers at me.
“Let’s go home.”
“Already? It hasn’t even been two hours.”
“Hey! If you’re leaving, go alone. I’m not done with placements yet!”
“Let’s go.”