On the very first day he’d met Hwichan, Haeshin found himself turning over all the wild, volatile things he’d shown him. The way his face had crumpled like he was about to cry the moment he saw Haeshin’s face coming up out of the water — as if struck by panic. The harsh words he’d spat out while striking his own cheek. The restless, watchful way he’d hovered, as if keeping guard over him. All of it.
He was seeing double. Overlapping his parents with me.
The memory surfaced right after — that awkward, uncomfortable face from this morning, arriving with a shopping bag lined with his own clothes as cushioning, a soaking wet cat tucked inside.
It occurred to him that perhaps Hwichan hadn’t come to inform him about the cat at all. Maybe he’d come to ask.
This small, dirty little thing. Me. Could you take us in?
Only then did Haeshin finally understand the source of the unease he’d been carrying all along. Those eyes that would sweep over him every time he dove, as if anxious. Beneath the fragility that had leaked through his expression no matter how hard he tried to hide it — that must be where your wound lives.
“You stay away from that kind too. Let him handle his own fuse box. People who’ve eaten up their own parents have always been bad luck.”
“…….”
“Why aren’t you answering? When an elder speaks to you, you say yes.”
Haeshin’s gaze, which had been fidgeting with his damp padded jacket sleeve, dropped silently to the floor.
“Yes.”
He answered obediently, eyes sliding sideways as if to dodge the moment. It was the path of least resistance to getting out of this.
“I’m worried he’s rubbing off on you.”
That’s unfair. We haven’t even gotten close enough for anything to rub off. I’m only just now starting to wonder what’s really going on inside him.
“Once bad luck catches, there’s no cure for it.”
That was absurd. If bad luck spread like a sickness, this island would’ve been cursed through and through long ago.
“Come on now, say you’ll be more careful going forward. Go on. The Village Chief is just worried about you.”
“Right? He doesn’t even work, and one look at him and you can tell he’s the slippery type.”
Haeshin squeezed his eyes shut, as though forcing down something bitter.
“Fine. I get it. I get it, okay. I’ll be more careful from now on!”
Just then, someone tapped lightly on the doorframe of the community center. He turned — and there was Hwichan.
Haeshin’s eyes went wide. I never called him — how did he know to come? Then he remembered that the Village Chief had mentioned stopping somewhere on the way, and his expression shifted into one of helpless dread.
“You’re the one who said you’d have Haeshin come clear out your fuse box?”
“What? When did I ever say that — no, I didn’t!”
It was Hwichan who’d been asked, but it was Haeshin who startled and answered.
“You live there, you do it yourself. Why are you trying to put your hyung to work, hm?”
“No, Village Chief! That’s not what happened!”
They say some people are simply born misaligned with each other, right from the start. Was that what he and Hwichan were to each other? Because there was no other way things could get this tangled otherwise.
While Haeshin was practically tearing his hair out, Hwichan — far from surprised or angry — responded with an unhurried “Yes,” and gave Haeshin a small nod.
“I said I’d handle the fuse box myself.”
Caught between no good options, Haeshin held out the tools and bags he’d already been holding.
“Let’s just go together. Someone needs to hold the ladder——”
“I said I’ll do it.”
He couldn’t bring himself to meet Hwichan’s eyes.
He probably heard everything.
Are you angry right now? Or are you hurting?
Hwichan took what Haeshin held out — his touch neither warm nor gentle. As a last scrap of conscience, Haeshin quickly grabbed the white vinyl umbrella propped against the entrance of the community center and thrust it toward him.
“Take the umbrella! It might rain!”
Hwichan stared at the white hand holding the umbrella for a moment, then replied.
“If it rains, I’ll just get wet.”
“Hey…….”
“Use it yourself. It’s not like you put it there for me anyway.”
Somehow that felt exactly like a rebuke directed at him, and Haeshin stood there in silence, his feet gone numb beneath him.
His conscience came down on him hard. One minute he’d been nodding along, promising to take good care of the cat Hwichan had brought to the island — so when had he gone and failed to say a single word in his defense while the others talked about him like that?
The front door of the community center swung shut, and Hwichan walked home.
Behind him, the two adults were still exchanging sharp words about Hwichan.
***
How many days had passed since then.
Hwichan still came out every single time it was Haeshin’s hour to dive, and stood his ground. Not like before — no more scattered conversation, no more showing up with a giant clam to show off. Just showing up.
He came to the water’s edge mechanically, like someone clocking in to a job with neither pay nor purpose, and the gratitude and guilt of it was enough to hollow Haeshin out. It felt like Hwichan was forcing himself to show up when he’d rather not see him at all.
What made it even more crushing was this: even as he could read Hwichan’s bitter reluctance plain as day, Haeshin was still itching to act warm toward him, pretending not to notice. That was the part that really got to him.
That was why Haeshin ended up at Hwichan’s front gate today, holding a side dish container no bigger than two handspans.
“Hwichan.”
Under normal circumstances, he would have gently reassured him — it’s all a misunderstanding, they don’t really think of you that way — but this time, Haeshin couldn’t bring himself to be sure of that.
Did the adults really say those things to Hwichan without meaning a word of it? And even if it was just their rough, clumsy way of showing affection — did he have any right to defend them on their behalf? Was he even someone who deserved to do that for Hwichan?
More than anything, he thought — wasn’t it almost cruel to take those barbed words and dress them up in the soft, warm language of “affection” before handing them back to him? It felt like hammering a nail made of sugar straight into someone’s heart.
The thoughts chased each other endlessly, gnawing at him all the while. So after turning it over and over, Haeshin settled on something a little more indirect.
As it happened, Hwichan didn’t seem to have much interest in housekeeping — so Haeshin decided that was as good an excuse as any, and made sure to bring over side dishes three or four times a week without fail.
Every now and then he’d deliberately wander past with Jinju in tow, or knock on the door just to see.
More than nine out of ten times he was ignored, and the side dishes he’d gone to the trouble of making would end up returned to the community center, where they became snacks for the village elders — but Haeshin hoped that at least this one line of sincerity, I care about you, would find its way through to him somehow.
Knock, knock.
After several knocks on the rust-eaten gate, Hwichan finally poked his head through the gap. From the look of his hair, he’d only just woken up.
“Side dishes again?”
Haeshin held out the transparent container.
I stayed up all night cooking this for you. I made it on edge the whole time because Jinju started shedding early, terrified even a single strand of fur might get in. He wanted to make the most of this, to say all of it out loud. But the moment he met Hwichan’s sharp gaze, every word of it retreated back inside him.
His deflated attempt at warmth came out of Haeshin’s mouth blunt beyond saving.
“Eat all of it.”
Even to his own ears he sounded like someone dishing out food at a cafeteria. Why couldn’t words be taken back once they left your mouth? What were people like him, with no way with words, supposed to do? He let out a quiet, pointless sigh inside.
The hefty container swayed between them. Hwichan took it with an air of supreme inconvenience and started pulling the gate shut.
In that instant Haeshin thought, this is too mechanical, I can’t just let him disappear like this — he reached out to catch his sleeve, and his fingers got caught between the old, rusted iron gate.
“Ow!”
Hwichan, who had glanced back when the gate didn’t close, eyes went wide. A sharp, startled sound tore out of him — then he kicked the gate open hard enough to rattle it off its hinges and yanked Haeshin inside.
“Why would you put your hand there?! Are you a child? You stuck your fingers in without thinking about what happens when a gate closes?!”
“Hey, it’s not like——”
The caught knuckles were already bruising a deep, angry purple. Hwichan’s breath caught, his jaw clenching tight.
“So you’ve made up your mind to make me the bad luck one, have you?”
