“Huh, I thought you said you weren’t going?”
“My heart changes with the wind.”
Hong Seungpyo answered flatly, shoved his chair back, and stood up. Kim Jinho flinched when that massive frame — over 190 centimeters — suddenly rose to its full height. Dooyoung, startled along with him, timidly dropped his gaze the moment it met Hong Seungpyo’s. In that brief glimpse, Hong Seungpyo’s eyes had been tinged with faint anticipation.
They walked ten minutes to reach the abandoned building. The wretched ruin was pitch-dark, as if ghosts might burst out at any moment. When they reached the second floor, the laughter of Lee Juhak’s crew — who had arrived ahead of them — carried all the way outside.
Lee Juhak spotted Hong Seungpyo standing behind Kim Jinho and curled his lip.
“What’s a piece of chaff doing in a place this refined?”
“Didn’t look refined. That’s why I came.”
Lee Juhak’s expression soured. Hong Seungpyo smirked and walked right past him, dropping onto the windowsill. The blatant disregard made Lee Juhak exhale sharply through his nose. And the sparks flew at the wrong person.
“Mutt. What are you doing? Get on your knees.”
Hong Seungpyo tore his gaze from the window. The Mutt, head bowed low, walked toward Lee Juhak and sank to his knees. No one had given him a specific cue — the motion was completely natural. It seemed like a ritual that had been carried out in this hideout for a long time.
Lee Juhak’s friends chatted among themselves, paying the Mutt no mind. Only Lee Juhak stared at him with piercing eyes. Kim Jinho pretended not to watch while quietly taking in the scene.
He had thought Lee Juhak was the one responsible for the strange atmosphere surrounding the Mutt. But he’d just changed his mind. If anything, it seemed like Heo Dooyoung was the one creating this thick, suffocating tension.
The Mutt sat on scattered shards of glass and chunks of rubble without so much as a flicker of expression. That detached face looked accustomed to this kind of treatment. Beneath the blank surface, a faint trace of exhaustion seeped through.
At least show it. It’s exactly that look of his that keeps making Lee Juhak and Kim Jinho keep poking at him.
“Take it out, Kim Jinho.”
At Lee Juhak’s order, Kim Jinho pulled a bag of dog food from his backpack and dumped it in front of Dooyoung. He set a small carton of milk beside it.
“This is a bonus. In case you choke.”
Kim Jinho flashed a toothy grin and stepped back. The onlookers waited eagerly for Dooyoung to start eating the kibble. Hong Seungpyo joined the spectators and watched the Mutt, who had been put to the test. After hesitating, the Mutt slowly reached out and placed a single piece of kibble in his mouth.
Crunch. Crunch, crunch.
The sound of chewing echoed faintly through the hollow abandoned building. After picking up and eating a few more pieces, the Mutt suddenly dry-heaved.
“Swallow it.”
Lee Juhak commanded in a low voice.
“If you spit it out, you’re not leaving here today.”
Dooyoung bit down on his lip until it went white and forced down whatever was in his mouth. He had done exactly as told — and yet Lee Juhak’s expression remained unsatisfied. When the bag was about half empty, Lee Juhak suddenly kicked it away in a burst of irritation.
Dooyoung flinched, but he curled his hands into fists and buried his raw reaction. Lee Juhak crouched in front of him, grabbed a fistful of Dooyoung’s hair, and forced their eyes to meet.
“Why that face? Looks like you’re not happy about this situation. When your owner feeds you, you’re supposed to wag your tail and say thank you. Go on, say it — thank you, Master.”
“…Th-thank you. Master.”
Lee Juhak got the answer he wanted and ruffled Dooyoung’s hair roughly.
“See how cute that is. You’ve got nothing to call unfair. You were born this way, and this is only natural to me. That’s what it means to have different positions.”
Lee Juhak rattled on with that sour smirk on his face — and then abruptly dropped it and lunged without warning at his friends who had been chatting off to the side. The atmosphere flipped in an instant into pure chaos. Lee Juhak grabbed the friend at the front by the collar with a rough yank, voice rising to a furious pitch.
“What the fuck did you just say? ‘Homo’? You called me a fucking homo?!”
The boy pinned beneath Lee Juhak couldn’t even resist — his face was mashed like clay. Not a single person managed to stop Lee Juhak properly, each getting thrown off miserably. Kim Jinho latched onto one of Lee Juhak’s arms like a cicada on a branch and shouted at him.
“Hey, Lee Juhak! Calm down! I said calm down!”
Hong Seungpyo watched the unfolding mess with blank disinterest. A homo throwing a fit over the word ‘homo’ after doing homo things — what even is that. He pulled his gaze away from them and looked back at Dooyoung. The Mutt had gone rigid and completely still. Their eyes met in that moment.
He curved his lips into a sly smile and gestured for Dooyoung to come closer. But the Mutt pretended not to see and only rolled the few remaining pieces of kibble around with his fingertips.
Hong Seungpyo’s expression went blank before he could catch himself, then settled back into indifference. He got up and walked over himself, crouching in front of Dooyoung in a loose, careless slouch. The Mutt stubbornly kept his gaze fixed on the floor. The kind of guy who, irritatingly, sparked something competitive in you.
Hong Seungpyo tilted his head to the side and peered openly at Dooyoung’s face.
“Does the kibble taste good?”
The question came out without passing through his brain, and the composed mask Dooyoung had been carefully maintaining cracked just slightly. Hong Seungpyo broke into a wide, open grin.
“Just asking because you seemed to be eating it so well.”
“……”
Dooyoung blinked a few times and awkwardly dropped his gaze. Hong Seungpyo’s breezy question wasn’t mockery — it was pure, guileless curiosity. Dooyoung could tell, precisely and unmistakably, and he had absolutely no idea how to respond.
The brawl next door was still going strong. Hong Seungpyo wrinkled the space between his brows at the unpleasant noise, then suddenly picked up a single piece of kibble and crunched down on it. He didn’t chew for long before spitting it onto the floor.
The taste was far from pleasant, and his furrowed brow didn’t ease. It was a wretched flavor he never wanted to experience again. As he dragged his tongue along the inside of his cheek, he found Dooyoung staring at him — he wasn’t sure when that had started. He scrunched his nose and said:
“You ever seen dog shit dried out in the sun?”
“…Huh? Oh — yeah.”
“That’s what it’s like chewing on it.”
“……”
At the blunt taste review, Dooyoung bit his lip. When he bowed his head to hide his wavering expression, Hong Seungpyo let out a quiet breath.
“Not entertaining.”
At that cold verdict, the Mutt’s shoulders gave a small jolt. A flawed reaction like that was only endearing once or twice — if he kept doing it with no rhyme or reason, it just got annoying.
Hong Seungpyo straightened his bent knees and stood. He passed the Mutt, exited the building, and stopped at the corner of the entrance on the first floor to light a cigarette. He cupped his hand against the wind and flicked the lighter. A small flame sputtered to life.
He took a long, deep drag and exhaled, watching the pale smoke scatter in the cold wind through half-lidded eyes. He noticed the commotion from upstairs gradually making its way down. As expected, Lee Juhak’s crew began pouring out of the building. Heo Dooyoung was not among them.
He watched them leave the hideout with a dull gaze, tossed the cigarette butt on the ground, and pulled out a fresh one. Then he turned his eyes toward the entrance.
He kept glancing up at the staircase over and over again, as though he’d left something behind inside. Eventually, he caught himself doing it and felt puzzled. He swept back his wind-tangled hair and turned to leave.
No — he had been about to.
Hong Seungpyo stopped short at the sound of feeble footsteps descending the stairs. He stood in place and peeked his head around the corner. There was the Mutt, shoulders drooping. In his hand was the carton of milk Kim Jinho had given him.
Hong Seungpyo muted his footsteps and followed behind the Mutt. When the Mutt turned a corner and slipped into a narrow alley, Hong Seungpyo saw him crouch in front of a drain and pour the milk from the carton down into it. Then, out of nowhere, he slapped himself hard across the cheek.
Smack. Smack. Smack.
The sharp sounds rang out one after another — desperate and forlorn. It felt like he was venting the anger he’d bottled up inside onto himself.
Hong Seungpyo watched Dooyoung quietly for a moment, then slowly closed the distance. Just then, the Mutt suddenly lifted his head and looked to the side. At the end of his gaze was a stray cat.
“It’s spoiled. You can’t eat it.”
It was a somber voice, heavy with breath. Hong Seungpyo stared down at the back of Dooyoung’s head and turned those words over in his mind. The tingling sensation in his ears wasn’t entirely unpleasant.
“Come here.”
He reached a hand toward the cat and wiggled his fingertips, but the cat didn’t answer the call.
