F19

Siwoo’s eyes locked onto the other guy’s hair. Bright golden. Bleached. With a cold stare, Siwoo said,

“I might not know much about Joo Yeonho, but even if I did, it’s not right to talk about someone’s private life behind their back. You should watch your mouth too.”

He felt a surge of resentment toward Yeonho. It was like someone had dragged a box cutter across his chest.

Whether Yeonho had approached him with light-hearted intentions or not wasn’t the point. They weren’t in a relationship. They were just close, like a hyung and dongsaeng. Yeonho hadn’t done anything wrong.

The real problem was Siwoo himself. He was afraid of becoming a danger to Yeonho, which meant he could never take things further. The deeper his feelings grew, the deeper his thoughts spiraled. I’m someone who could end up making you unhappy.

Still, as always, Siwoo headed to Yeonho’s place. He couldn’t stop liking him. He didn’t want to. He had no intention of confronting him or demanding the truth. That wasn’t why he was staying by Yeonho’s side.

Before stopping by, he made a quick trip to the department store. As usual, he wandered the shops, looking for something he might want to give Yeonho. Then he picked up a pair of sneakers.

“These would really suit Yeonho.”

He bought sneakers for the person he currently resented the most. Siwoo wondered if this kind of emotion even made logical sense. He had never felt this way, not even toward his own parents. He had tried to earn their love, sure, but he had never tried to love them.

This gift wasn’t to make Yeonho love him back. He wasn’t looking for anything in return.

***

“Ugh, he’s so annoying! What is wrong with this guy?!”

Yeonho’s finger trembled over the block button on his phone screen. A few days ago, he had been working on a group project at the library with a senior from the same elective. The guy was in architectural engineering, and Yeonho had deliberately joined his group hoping to hear something, anything, about Siwoo.

But the guy had ended up clinging to him all night in the library, claiming he had some story to tell about “Kim Yeonho’s last two years.” The last train had passed, and the senior insisted on tagging along. He asked thirty times if he could sleep over, so eventually Yeonho gave in. At dawn, he kicked him out at the first train.

That had been the only night. Just once. But now the guy was acting like they were in some sort of special relationship. When Yeonho woke up each morning, he’d find fifty emotional texts about love. If he didn’t reply on messenger, the guy would DM him on social media. If he posted a picture, there would be clingy comments pretending they were close.

Yeonho considered blocking every form of contact, but decided to endure it until the semester ended. Their group project wasn’t done yet, so he couldn’t risk a dramatic fallout. After the class ended, they would never see each other again.

At the sound of the door lock beeping, Yeonho tossed his phone aside and shut his eyes, pretending to be asleep. His favorite moment was when Siwoo came in and gently woke him, cradling him like a baby. He couldn’t miss it.

As soon as Siwoo stepped into the house, he saw two pairs of sneakers at the entrance and burst out laughing. One was the pair he had gifted Yeonho two days ago. The other was the same design in a different size, the tag still attached.

“Joo Yeonho, you’re doing this again.”

Siwoo stared down at the matching sneakers with a strange feeling. Kneeling beside them, he touched the pair Yeonho had bought for him. Yeonho had never once taken the love Siwoo gave him for granted. He always returned it, sometimes even more than he received.

That winter, when Siwoo brought him a humidifier because the air was too dry, Yeonho stocked the house with lemon tea the next day and insisted Siwoo drink it constantly. When their playful wrestling knocked a button off Siwoo’s shirt, Yeonho tried to sew it back on and ended up pricking his finger. When Siwoo collapsed from exhaustion during a group project, Yeonho covered him with a blanket and gathered materials for him. During midterms, when Siwoo was worn down from sleepless nights, Yeonho nursed him through the day, and even managed to carry Siwoo, who was nearly 190 cm tall, all the way home.

Yeonho had once burned his hand trying to cook something other than kimchi fried rice or pasta, and called the scar “a mark of love.”

Siwoo had never expected anything in return. He loved Joo Yeonho like he would have loved Kim Yeonho. He didn’t see them as separate. At some point, he found himself giving Yeonho the kind of love he had always wanted to receive.

Siwoo had always longed for parental love, and because Yeonho lacked that presence in his life, he made an effort to fill that space. He hoped Yeonho felt safe, knowing he had someone looking out for him.

Strangely, the more he loved Yeonho, the more he felt his own emptiness being filled. Giving love became a kind of salvation. He couldn’t tell who was protecting whom anymore.

Following his usual routine, Siwoo finished tidying up and, at 9 a.m., climbed into bed and wrapped Yeonho in his arms.

“I missed you.”

That was how he woke him today. Yeonho, who had been pretending to sleep, suddenly opened his eyes and asked,

“Really?”

Siwoo didn’t answer. He just pulled Yeonho tighter. Yeonho hugged back just as hard.

He wasn’t returning Siwoo’s affection out of guilt. Whenever Siwoo gave him something, it made him happy, and he wanted Siwoo to feel that same happiness.

Yeonho didn’t know Siwoo’s full story, but he could sense that loneliness lurked inside him. It wasn’t Yeonho, who had grown up in a warm household, who needed protection. It was Siwoo. Still, it wasn’t easy to like him while pretending not to know.

So Yeonho decided to copy him. The more he lived like this, the more he felt like he was becoming Siwoo. His personality, his way of speaking, they were starting to resemble each other. He became calmer, more thoughtful, more careful.

Only one thing remained. What exactly was the relationship between Kim Siwoo and Joo Yeonho?

Siwoo had never once said he liked him. Their physical contact never went beyond hugs. He gave Yeonho everything a guardian would, but nothing more. Yeonho was sure Siwoo liked him, but not in the same way.

Yeonho was starting to feel worn out waiting. Sometimes, it felt like Siwoo was just within reach. But whenever he opened his hand, Siwoo would slip right through. When they were together, it felt like they both had feelings. But at the end of the day, it always seemed like Yeonho had spent another day in a one-sided romance.

His feelings were only getting deeper, but Siwoo didn’t seem like he planned to make this official.

It was driving him crazy. That smug confidence Yeonho once had, convinced Siwoo had completely fallen for him, felt like it belonged to another life. Looking back, he felt ridiculous.

Had he thrown away his pride too quickly when they first met? Was that why Siwoo didn’t see him as relationship material? Should he do something childish, like try to make him jealous? Maybe then Siwoo would finally reconsider.

Yeonho pulled Siwoo toward the closet after they finished the dishes.

“Hyung, can you help me sort this stuff out? I’ve just been piling it up because I was too lazy, but I wanna throw out what I don’t need.”

He pointed to a stack of delivery boxes next to the wardrobe. Siwoo nodded and sat on the floor with a box cutter.

These unopened packages had started to pile up around Yeonho’s birthday—March 15. Siwoo had assumed they were birthday gifts, but he’d never touched them. He hadn’t even peeked inside.

As he sliced through the tape, Siwoo’s expression gradually hardened. Inside each box, along with the gifts, were handwritten cards full of messages like “Next year, let’s spend your birthday together,” or “When are you going to start dating me?”

Siwoo had never once brought up the emotional toll Yeonho’s outgoing nature took on him. He didn’t think he had the right to criticize. But now, he couldn’t help feeling angry.

If these gifts had come to this new apartment Yeonho had only recently moved into, then it meant he’d been chatting with other people on messenger and SNS even while spending time with Siwoo. He was keeping up his options, maintaining potential relationships.

For someone like Siwoo, who shut everyone else out and gave his heart only to Yeonho, it was hard to accept. But he said nothing. Normally, he wasn’t the type to keep quiet about things that bothered him, but when it came to Yeonho, he found himself letting a lot slide. Because he liked him.

Inside one of the boxes, along with a designer cologne, was a Polaroid photo. In it, Yeonho was in the arms of a much older-looking man.

Siwoo stared at it. Behind them was a structure he recognized, the same one from the freshmen retreat, where Yeonho had recorded that video of him. The lights changed color. It was unmistakable.

“Isn’t this where we first met? Seong Platte Resort.”

“Yeah, it is.”

“When was this taken?”

He narrowed his eyes as he asked, trying not to sound like he was interrogating him.