Bzzzz— bzzzz—
When he fumbled at the bedside with a heavy arm, the phone that had been vibrating continuously came into his hand.
He sighed once and lifted his eyelids; the name Yoonjin flashed on the screen. It had already been a week since meeting Gu Seunghyeok in the owner’s office on B2, so the call felt later than he’d expected. Ihyeon cleared his low, hoarse throat and pressed the call button.
“…Hello?”
— Hyung!
“Yeah.”
Unlike Ihyeon’s ragged voice, Yoonjin’s tone was full of energy.
Ihyeon narrowed his brow against the burning scratch in his throat and gave a small answer. It was as if Yoonjin had been waiting for him to pick up; the words poured out at once.
— Hyung, are you seriously quitting? The manager said you were sick last week so take just a week off, but when I asked again today they said you’re not coming back! But you wouldn’t quit without saying anything, and every time I bring you up Subin hyung suddenly gets all serious and changes the subject!
“Ah….”
— Did something happen that day? Or really, are you quitting?
It hadn’t been Ihyeon who said to take a break last week after Jinseok was hospitalized — it had been the owner, who’d said the store was too chaotic and paid his wages into his account ahead of time.
Only when Yoonjin told him that “they said not to come back” did Ihyeon realize what “we’ll call you when things calm down” had actually meant.
No wonder it was strange that someone who’d never called suddenly rang. Now that I think about it, being told to wait until the fuss died down was odd. Incidents were hardly rare there in the first place.
— Hyung, are you listening?
It had been a place where he’d worked a long time; the unilateral news of dismissal felt unreal. Maybe it was fortunate the accusation of ransacking the owner’s office stopped at this — that thought even crept in.
Recalling Gu Seunghyeok’s hard expression and Jinseok collapsed into a pulp slowly cleared the fog in his head.
“…Sorry. Something came up at work. That’s what happened.”
— You should’ve said something earlier. But your voice — are you sick?
“Just… a cold.”
— Oh my, what should I do. Did I wake you?
Ihyeon brushed his face with the hand that had been shielding his eyes. Sleep felt impossible now. He pushed the thin sheet, stuck to cold sweat, away and sat up.
“No, I’m fine. Is Jinseok a bit better? Anything else happen after I left?”
— Oh, don’t even get me started, hyung. It was noisy all week. Wait — the coffee bean box came in? It’s there! Under the shelf in the storage!
Yoonjin’s clear voice faded for a moment over the line. The faint music that had been playing earlier turned out to be the café’s. A brief clatter came from the phone, then Yoonjin spoke in a rush.
— Hyung, something just came up. I’ll call later! Take your meds and rest, okay?
“…Yeah.”
The line cut off. Ihyeon picked up the water cup on the bedside. Lukewarm liquid slid down his dry throat and lifted him a little. He sat blankly for a moment, licking his parched lips with his tongue, then opened his phone to messages.
Ads and a few group chats piled up. He thumbed down to find Yun Subin’s name and tapped. The chat shifted; message bubbles, all pushed to the right, appeared.
[Did the hospital admission go through?]
[Is Jinseok okay?]
[Hyung, you busy?]
Each sent message showed the read receipt, but no replies had come. Staring at the stalled messenger, Ihyeon was about to type “Call me when you have time” when his finger stopped.
— Subin hyung suddenly gets all serious and changes the subject whenever I bring you up!
Yoonjin’s words triggered the image of Subin’s expression from a few days ago at the club: reluctantly following Gu Seunghyeok’s order, biting his lip as if ashamed. It was a humiliation he wouldn’t have had to suffer if it hadn’t been him.
“……”
Ihyeon blinked slowly and moved his finger. The fragmentary sentence he’d written in the chat decomposed into consonants and vowels and then vanished into white space.
He’d thought he should put some distance between himself and the place, but not like this. He exhaled a short breath and hesitantly typed a new line.
[Hyung. Sorry. Call me.]
After staring at the unchanging conversation box for a moment, he hit back. The dead screen reflected an expressionless face. Since seeing Gu Seunghyeok again, everything felt like it was unravelling. He buried his face in his hands and let out a held breath.
…Ha.
Seunghyeok’s look, the one that had been fixed on him, replayed behind his eyes. The helplessness and emptiness he’d felt facing a similar face long ago seemed to pull his whole body down.
The ground felt like treacle under his feet; it was as if someone had gripped his lungs. His fumbling hand found a round plastic container on the nightstand. He poured several pills into his palm and swallowed them with practiced motions.
Ihyeon wiped his face briefly. The sky through the window was blurred. It was a little past two; the club would probably be empty. He suddenly thought he should at least grab the things he’d left in his locker before it got later.
He rose slowly; the rustle of the sheet sounded unusually loud in the quiet room. Was it because he felt sick, or because his job had suddenly vanished? A chill seemed to sit in a corner of his chest today.
***
Cough….
The cold air hit his face the moment the bus’s rear door opened. The wind’s bite grew sharper day by day; winter was deepening. Ihyeon stepped off the stopped bus and looked around.
The lobby, once crowded nightly with staff, smokers, and waiting customers, lay empty and quiet. Expressionless passersby brushed past in a hurry as he turned toward the staff stairwell.
He stopped at the door leading down to B1 and the kitchen. Entering the familiar code one digit at a time, he began to hear a commotion from inside — muffled laughter, loud voices. People.
Maybe he’d misheard. For a moment he hesitated, then the door that had been blocking his way flew open.
A face he hadn’t seen before stepped out. The man’s face was flushed bright red; he looked like someone who’d just left the restroom, his fly hiked up, a stub of a recently lit cigarette tucked between his lips.
He and the others behind him giggled; at the sight of Ihyeon standing at the door the man jumped back. Then, as if to focus, he leaned toward Ihyeon and widened his eyes.
“Hey, hey, what’s this. Isn’t this that fag from before?”
“Who?”
“No, you know. The guy who almost made out with Yunsu in the basement! The one who works here!”
“Oh — the day the director visited?”
Three men stood there. From their talk it sounded like they’d been at the scene that day.
They snickered and watched him like something odd had been discovered. Ihyeon’s face remained expressionless. Not showing any emotion, his pale face looked like a wax doll.
He lowered his eyes and sucked the inside of his cheek with his tongue. He couldn’t tell why they were here, but grabbing his stuff and leaving seemed out of the question.
I’ll have Yoonjin or someone else sort the locker.
He sighed softly and turned. He planned to buy some medicine on the way up. As he climbed the steps, a sudden sound made him start.
“…!”
“Hey, hey, you bastard. Someone’s talking to you — where do you think you’re going?”