“You think I’d let someone like you buy me a meal?”
He shot back with a tone of pure disbelief. It was a genuinely awful thing to say — and yet he ended up paying anyway. That was just the kind of person Yeon Haejeong was. He’d do something for you and then grumble about it, extend a kindness and follow it up with something mean, never once letting himself look generous.
Munyeong laughed awkwardly once, then returned to the actual reason he was there.
“It’s gotten a bit late, but what would you like to do about the work you were planning to review?”
He figured it would be difficult to get anything done in that state of intoxication, but wondering if it might be something urgent, he asked — and Haejeong let his gaze drop and slid a sideways glance at him.
“…My head hurts.”
And then he gave an answer that had nothing to do with the question at all. There was an obvious hint of feigned illness laced into it, but Munyeong’s eyes went wide and he quickly opened his mouth.
“Pardon?”
“…….”
“A-are you alright? How does it — never mind. Should I take you to a hospital?”
Truthfully, Munyeong had been worried — the man had been sprawled out drunk and under the influence of some strange substance just yesterday, and here he was pouring alcohol down his throat again today. Yesterday hadn’t looked like just drinking either, and he’d been making sounds of discomfort through the night, so there was no way Munyeong couldn’t be concerned.
“…No. I think I just need to lie down for a bit.”
He rolled his eyes again and added lazily. Munyeong, eyes still wide, pressed again urgently.
“Should I take you to the hotel?”
“Can’t go. My mom’s got it all blocked off.”
For someone this drunk, his reasoning was remarkably clear. Munyeong vaguely recalled it — from the conversation he’d had with Haejeong’s older brother the very first day they’d crossed paths.
“Then, a clean lodging nearby…”
“I can’t sleep in some cheap place like that.”
“Then……”
Munyeong trailed off, his expression genuinely troubled. It wasn’t as if he could have him sleep at the office again like before either…
“Just go to your place for now.”
“Pardon?”
“It’s close by.”
“Ah…… But as you can see, my place is quite run-down and cramped. I think you’d be uncomfortable.”
“You already had me sleep there once, didn’t you.”
“That truly was unavoidable… I’m sorry, that was my fault.”
Munyeong answered dutifully, and Haejeong let out a soundless sigh as if exasperated.
“What can I do. Like you said, I’m a man without a single place to call home right now.”
“Pardon…? Ah, that wasn’t what I meant when I said that——”
“I’m going house-hunting tomorrow. Come with me.”
“……Yes.”
“I left my luggage in the secretarial office, so bring it by tomorrow morning.”
“Ah, yes.”
“I’m only staying today. Because my head hurts. Because my head hurts and I don’t have the capacity to work. Understood?”
He pressed his temple intermittently and repeated the same words over and over, for emphasis. Munyeong just nodded with a bewildered look on his face. Surely there were plenty of lodgings cleaner than his rundown apartment nearby. It was strange — but what could he do. He didn’t have the confidence to win against that stubbornness.
The whole way back to his place, Haejeong stumbled several times. Each time, Munyeong startled and moved to support him, and Haejeong would flinch and stare at him with surprised eyes. Thinking the touch had been unwelcome, Munyeong quickly pulled his hand away — but Haejeong grabbed his arm and forced him to keep supporting him, grumbling about what Munyeong would do if he fell again. The proximity was almost overwhelmingly close. But Munyeong, genuinely terrified of Haejeong stumbling and falling again, was sweating as he held him properly upright. Yeon Haejeong stole a glance at the profile of this absurdly earnest person beside him, and the corner of his mouth curved slightly upward.
As he looked at that profile, Haejeong found himself thinking of Im Munyeong from their school days once more. After first learning of the existence of Im Munyeong — the person who had kept a promise with him even at the cost of his own face — Haejeong had found himself, from time to time, regardless of whether it was during class or a break, watching him sitting quietly alone at the very edge of the room. No one paid Munyeong any mind. Im Munyeong was like a ghost in that class. The other students treated him as invisible, or like filth to be avoided.
Coming in with his face beaten up like that, you’d think at least the homeroom teacher would show some small sign of interest — but truly no one cared. Everyone else would be loud and rowdy, yet around Munyeong it was always quiet, and Im Munyeong himself was quiet too. Just a composed face, neither depressed nor resentful, just ordinarily and plainly blank. Shabby-looking, sure, but not an unattractive face. If he were being honest, it was a face worth a second glance. Far more worth looking at than the faces of kids from wealthy families who’d had all kinds of work done trying to look good.
What are you staring at?
A kid whose name he didn’t even know had asked, directing it at Haejeong. Only then did Haejeong realize with a start that the class had ended and it was now a break.
None of your business.
Haejeong replied with an air of total disinterest and stole another glance at Munyeong. How badly must he have been hit for his face to still look the same days later. In all his years, he’d never seen such a hopeless, foolish idiot. What was even more maddening was that after getting beaten up like that, he’d covered for the guys who did it. Munyeong had kept his promise, and when he’d come with that wrecked face and asked Haejeong to let it go, Haejeong had said he’d look the other way — but even days later, the indignation kept flaring up without warning. He’d jolt awake at night from it, curse under his breath in the middle of playing. But what made him even more furious was that stupid fool himself.
I mean, I noticed you keep looking over there lately.
The one who’d casually struck up a conversation was his newly assigned seatmate from a seat shuffle a few days prior. A pretty girl — but one of those classmates he couldn’t find any other particular quality in.
…When did I.
Like, constantly? Did you have some kind of grudge against him?
What are you talking about.
You were staring so intensely. I thought maybe he’d done something to you.
…No. Nothing like that.
Well, I guess so. It’s not like he’d ever have the chance to get on your bad side.
The girl rested her chin in her hand and said it matter-of-factly. There was something knowing in her tone, and Haejeong, despite himself, let his mouth open with mild interest.
And what’s that supposed to mean.
Haejeong asked, doing his best to seem completely indifferent.
He’s our class punching bag.
…Punching bag?
Yeah. Someone everyone can treat however they want.
The girl continued, fixing her hair in her mirror, as if talking about someone else’s business entirely.
It’s fine to hit him, fine to treat him like he’s invisible. Fine to take out your frustrations on him.
……Him?
Yeah. Sometimes those guys use him literally like a sandbag. Ugh, rotten bunch.
The girl glanced toward the delinquent crowd clustered together as she said it.
…Why is it fine?
The questions kept slipping out of Haejeong before he could stop them.
Who knows? The kid’s personality is a bit off. Maybe because he’s an orphan.
…….
Kind of pitiful.
It was such a throwaway kind of pity. The sort anyone on the outside could easily dish out. With each answer from his seatmate, a dull ache crept up the back of Haejeong’s neck. In all his years, he’d never seen someone so pathetic. Getting looked down on by everyone wasn’t enough — he had to go and get beaten up from all sides too. A guy with no spine at all.
Haejeong frowned and unconsciously turned his head back toward where Munyeong was. Just then, a kid from another class slipped in through the back door, glancing around cautiously before tapping Munyeong on the shoulder. Gestured at him to come out. And for the first time, Munyeong wore a different expression. Every day he’d sit there with that same blank face, either spacing out or buried in classwork — but now something had darkened. As Munyeong followed the other kid with a troubled look on his face, Haejeong’s expression twisted even further.
Where are you going? Aren’t you going to lunch?
His seatmate asked, puzzled, as Haejeong shot up without thinking. He twitched his nose. What was he doing jumping to his feet like that. Was he going to go after him? He didn’t want to admit it — this subtle, persistent interest in Munyeong that kept nudging at him. He didn’t want to. But.
Yeah. I don’t share a table with just anyone.
His haughty reply left his seatmate staring at him with a dumbfounded look. And yet, against his own will, his feet were already following after Munyeong.
