Yeon Haejeong had followed them anyway — stubbornly, for no good reason — and now swept a disdainful gaze around the interior of the restaurant. Munyeong had gone on and on about a prior engagement, so Haejeong had half-expected some impressive lunch, only to arrive at what turned out to be a dingy neighborhood barbecue joint. The place was far from clean; the floor was slick with grease, and even though they’d barely opened for the day, the heavy, gamey smell of meat already hung thick in the air. The kind of place Yeon Haejeong had never once set foot in his entire life.
“Weren’t you already mooching off his place to sleep? Now you’re here to freeload on his food too?”
Shin Juho, who had been eyeing Haejeong with undisguised displeasure, opened his mouth with a blunt snap. Munyeong, who had been sorting the utensils, furrowed his brow and pressed a firm hand on Juho’s arm. A silent signal to stop.
“…Whatever.”
The moment Munyeong stepped in, Juho backed down immediately. Haejeong watched that exchange in silence and felt that same unpleasant, unsettled feeling crawl up his chest again. Right — that dynamic between them was what bothered him. One of them acted out, and the other reined him in, and the whole thing was frustratingly natural. It was steeped in the kind of easy familiarity that only came with years spent together.
“What would you like to… what do you want to eat…?”
Munyeong set Haejeong’s utensils on a tissue and asked carefully, turning toward him. There was no way someone with Haejeong’s particular palate would actually enjoy food from a place like this. He wasn’t even really hungry to begin with — it was more that watching the two of them go off to eat without him had rubbed him the wrong way, and he’d tagged along out of pure stubbornness.
“…Anything.”
Haejeong said it flatly, like he couldn’t care less.
“Sure. You’re eating for free, so you’ll eat whatever you get.”
“Why do you keep doing that.”
“What did I do.”
“I said he’s my fr… friend. Don’t talk to him like that.”
Munyeong’s voice was firm, and Juho’s lip jutted out even further in response, clearly more put out by the reprimand itself. The truth was, Juho still couldn’t wrap his head around the idea that Munyeong had ever had a friend other than him. He knew Munyeong’s small, sparse circle of people inside and out, and the fact that Munyeong had no one else around meant Juho knew he occupied a bigger place in Munyeong’s attention — so seeing this stranger here only made him more peevish than he wanted to admit. And on top of that, Munyeong had never spoken to him in that firm, scolding tone before.
Juho glared at Haejeong across the table. Their eyes met mid-air, and there it was — a faint, contemptuous smile curving at the corner of Haejeong’s mouth. That smug, triumphant look, like he’d scored a point, made Juho’s blood boil even more. What is wrong with this guy? Juho narrowed his eyes and fixed Haejeong with a scorching glare.
“So what kind of classmates were you guys, anyway?”
The four servings of frozen pork belly they’d ordered arrived, and Munyeong picked up the tongs and got to work grilling diligently. The meat began to sizzle and brown, and just as the savory smell started rising from the grill, Juho — who had been picking at the side dishes — suddenly threw out the question.
Munyeong paused for just a moment, glancing sideways at Haejeong, who was staring at the browning meat like it was some kind of beast, then answered quietly.
“…High school.”
“Ah. That place?”
Munyeong lifted the cooked pieces and placed two on each of their plates — Juho’s and Haejeong’s. Haejeong stared down at his with an expression full of hesitation, so Munyeong used the tongs to scoop up a generous handful of the seasoned green onion salad and layered it on top of the meat. Haejeong seemed to catch the suggestion and looked up at Munyeong with a mildly surprised expression. Munyeong blinked at him twice, big and encouraging — just try it.
“Then I guess you’d know about him getting expelled, too?”
Juho, who had been working his way through the pieces Munyeong kept piling onto his plate, let the words slip out without much thought. In that instant, Munyeong’s busy hand on the tongs stilled — and so did Haejeong’s hand, mid-motion, just as he’d finally made up his mind to put the savory-smelling meat into his mouth.
“What are you talking about.”
Haejeong asked in a low voice. Juho answered breezily.
“You don’t know? Back then, he got caught up with some bastard and—”
“Ju — Juho!”
Munyeong’s voice shot up abruptly, and Juho turned to look at him with exaggeratedly wide eyes.
“Whoa, you scared me. Why are you suddenly yelling—”
“Should we order another serving? One more?”
Munyeong cut in with an awkward smile, rushing to redirect the conversation. Juho responded with a deadpan stare.
“…Isn’t that obvious?”
“We should get fried rice too.”
“Hell yes. Oh — should we get a bottle of soju?”
Juho, apparently not satisfied with just eating, called the server over and ordered another serving of meat and a bottle of soju. Only then did Munyeong let out a small, quiet breath of relief — and unconsciously turned his gaze toward Haejeong across the table. He found that Haejeong had been watching him this whole time, and their eyes locked directly.
“…….”
The moment their gazes met, Munyeong froze. The way Haejeong was looking at him felt weighted — like it meant something. It was a feeling that had been creeping up on him since the other day, surfacing at odd moments. The unsettling impression that Haejeong might actually remember him.
“You drinking too?”
Juho, now with soju in hand, turned to Haejeong with a begrudging look. He was still annoyed by him — but sitting across from each other and eating together seemed to warrant at least that much acknowledgment, and his tone had the air of someone grudgingly extending a courtesy.
“…You drink by yourself.”
Haejeong was just as unimpressed. He ran a dismissive look over Juho and answered flatly.
“Can’t handle your liquor?”
“What?”
“Or why not have a glass? That’s just how it goes in situations like this — you at least pretend to accept.”
“Ha. Me? From you?”
“You’re awfully prickly. Look like a prude with that face.”
“A prude? You think someone who looks like this could be a prude?”
“Sure. You’re good-looking, I’ll give you that. But you’re not my type. A little too… pretty-boy brothel-adjacent, honestly.”
“Pret — pretty-boy what?”
The two of them had wound up bickering again — but for a moment, Munyeong’s chest had gone cold. Whenever the feeling suddenly surfaced — that Haejeong might remember him — his heart would go strangely hollow. He had his own reasons for hiding his name and playing dumb, when he stopped to think about it. Even though he’d felt a strange, quiet sting of hurt at the idea that Haejeong had no memory of him at all, there was also a part of him — buried somewhere deep — that genuinely wanted Haejeong to never remember him until the very end. Their school days together had been a good memory. But it had been nothing more than a young, reckless spark — and having it brought up now would only be embarrassing. And the way things had ended back then hadn’t been good. Going back to that was uncomfortable. He didn’t want to.
“Pretty types always act so uptight.”
“It’s not that I was raised pretty, it’s that I was raised well.”
“Didn’t you say you don’t even have a home.”
“The f*ck, that’s—!”
Haejeong opened his mouth with a burst of indignation, his expression twisting with wounded pride — but the words died there, because there was nothing to actually say. It would be shameless to announce himself as the Senior Managing Director of Baekil Group just to make a point. Haejeong exhaled sharply and brought the soju glass down on the table with a loud thunk.
“Hey. Pour it.”
Where does this guy get off treating me like an idiot.
Haejeong wrinkled his nose and shot Juho a sharp glare. Juho, watching Haejeong’s competitive streak flare up, smirked and dragged a beer glass over, filling it to the brim with soju.
“This is how I drink.”
“Juho.”
Munyeong called out in alarm, trying to stop him — but Haejeong took the bait completely. He pulled an empty beer glass toward himself, yanked the soju bottle right out of Juho’s hand, and filled it to the top.
“Wait — hold on. You—”
Munyeong wanted to call out to him urgently, but couldn’t figure out what to call him, and ended up stumbling over his own words like an idiot.
“Now we’re talking. That’s more like it.”
Juho had that lingering athlete’s ego when it came to drinking. He was using this as an outlet for the hostility he felt toward Haejeong on first sight — provoking him to rise to the bait. It was, in a word, childish. What made it even more baffling was that Haejeong was actually taking the bait — bristling and rising to every taunt. Munyeong stared at Haejeong helplessly, but Haejeong and Juho were locked in a mutual death glare, both of them knocking back the beer glasses filled with soju like it was a contest.
This is going to be a disaster, I swear…
