Without looking far, the proof was right there: the fact that he’d blindly agreed to Han Yeonghwa’s ridiculous request. What kind of bullet-brained bastard just nods along when soone tells him to crawl into danger on his own two feet? No matter how much he’d been threatened, to Yohan it sounded like sothing you could’ve ignored without a second thought.
So of course °• N 𝑜 v 𝑒 l i g h t •° he worried—like leaving a kid by the water’s edge.
“The day you get yourself scamd, I’ll cut my own guts out with my bare hands.”
Yohan even held out his palm as he teased Haejun. Haejun snorted and opened his mouth to brag about his illustrious track record.
“You just don’t know. I’m fucking amazing at reeling people in. Every ti I open my mouth, it’s basically—”
He shut up mid-sentence.
A recent mory flashed through him like lightning. Lying sprawled on the dining table, calling Lee Kangjoo’s na. Nearly dying. Ending it with a kiss. That day very much counted as “every ti I open my mouth,” unfortunately.
Heat rushed up all at once. Haejun slapped his burning forehead with his palm. Yohan shot him a weird look, but his body was already reacting on its own to the sudden flush.
“What’s wrong with you?”
“...Nothing.”
“Every ti you open your mouth, what?”
“...I cause accidents.”
He pulled down the zipper, letting winter’s cold air rush in. Yohan snorted and changed the subject.
“You got a picture of that guy? Your client.”
“Why?”
“So I can read his face. See if he’s a sucker or not.”
Was he asking even though he already knew? As it happened, there was one photo saved. When Haejun held the screen out, Yohan narrowed his eyes and picked it apart from every angle. The way he bit down on his lower lip made him look like so physiognomist with fifty years under his belt.
“Hey. Avoid this bastard.”
After a long while, Yohan handed the phone back, pressing the bridge of his nose hard with thumb and forefinger. He suddenly looked exhausted.
“Why. He’s handso, isn’t he?”
“Handso my fucking ass. Are your eyes on the soles of your feet? This is the kind of face that eats people alive.”
Yohan blew up, aghast, but Haejun just slipped the phone away, indifferent.
He’d slled blood on him from the first eting. He’d even seen him beat soone. At first, Haejun had been scared enough to try to avoid him.
But whether you called it fate or God’s sick joke, they kept getting tangled up. Saving him when he’d tried to jump off a bridge. Hooking him up to an IV and giving him supplents. Following Haejun’s half-assed date plan without a single complaint. Saying he’d take care of a crazy bastard for him. Even offering up a corner of his own place without hesitation.
People are drawn to reversals. Lee Kangjoo was, to Haejun, a nonstop series of them—and the embodint of one.
“He looks scary, but he’s actually a decent person. He helps out a lot. Pays really well, too.”
Yohan twisted his mouth and stared at him like he’d tasted sothing rotten. Then he shook his head.
“This guy—he’s gonna strip you down to the bone and eat you alive. You can’t handle him.”
“Hey, that’s a bit harsh.”
“I can’t tell you to quit outright if he pays well, but... if you can, wrap it up fast. Find soone else. Hell, a seventy-year-old geezer might be better.”
“Is he really that bad?”
“Even among gangsters, there are suckers who like to spoil their toys. I’ve seen guys who’d take out loan sharks just because you sucked them off a bit. But that one? Not him.”
“He’s nicer than you’d think.”
He’d gotten hopelessly swept up in that insignificant kindness. Stuff that wouldn’t an anything to anyone else lingered in his head nonstop. He couldn’t get free of that kiss. Haejun twisted his fingers together, hiding it from Yohan.
“I’ve been told a lot that I’ve got a good eye for faces, Cha Haejun. And that one’s... really not it.”
What was written on Lee Kangjoo’s face, exactly? Haejun pulled the photo closer, even zood in. But no matter how he looked, it was just a perfectly handso face. Long eyes that could seem sharp at first glance, sure—but when he smiled with them, everything lted away.
“I’m worried about you.”
“I’m not a kid. What’s there to worry about?”
“Because I’m the one who introduced you to this shit.”
Yohan dropped his head. Maybe he was feeling guilty. Even though there was no reason to.
“I chose this.”
Haejun patted his shoulder to say it was fine. Even so, Yohan didn’t straighten up for a long ti.
* * *
When Lee Kangjoo ca ho, he was carrying sothing. Haejun clasped his hands behind his back and tilted his head, inspecting it. A paper bag with an English logo on it.
“Let take that. I’ll hold it.”
It didn’t look heavy at all—it was just politeness. But surprisingly, Lee Kangjoo handed it over without protest. Perfect timing. Curious, Haejun imdiately peeked inside.
It was sliced bread, wrapped in clear plastic.
Haejun’s mouth fell open. He’d actually been planning to buy so on the way back, but forgot, so he’d decided not to make breakfast tomorrow.
Had he rembered sothing Haejun had ntioned in passing before? Without realizing it, he perked up and trotted closer to ask.
“You rembered? That I was out of bread?”
“Did I? Guess it’s a coincidence.”
At that casual, almost gentle reply, Haejun’s shoulders slumped like a soaked puppy.
For a mont, he’d thought Lee Kangjoo had rembered what he said. But soone who never even touched the als Haejun made wasn’t going to buy bread just for him.
Haejun let go of the tiny disappointnt. Either way, it was a lucky day. This small coincidence alone was enough to feel good about.
While Lee Kangjoo went into his room, Haejun grinned to himself and took the bread out of the bag, turning it over in his hands. White, fluffy, thick—completely different from the stuff he’d been grabbing at the supermarket.
He stared at it like it was a bar of gold until Lee Kangjoo ca back out. He even searched up new recipes on his phone for tomorrow morning. Lee Kangjoo probably wouldn’t eat it, but wasn’t a willingness to try sothing admirable, no matter the era?
“I heard you can eat that without toasting it.”
Had he been hugging it too close? Fresh from the shower, Lee Kangjoo spoke as if he thought Haejun was glaring at the bread because he was hungry.
“Just like this?”
Watching Lee Kangjoo nod, Haejun opened the bag. He was hungry anyway and took out a slice, about to put it in his mouth—then hesitated and looked at Lee Kangjoo. He must’ve looked like a dog checking its owner’s face for permission.
“Do you want so?”
Haejun closed his mouth before drooling and offered it carefully. Lee Kangjoo smiled faintly and shook his head. It was awkward, but there was no way Haejun could not eat bread that was already out, slling richly of butter.
The mont he took a bite, stars lit up in Haejun’s eyes. It completely shattered his belief that bread was just bread. Compared to this, everything he’d eaten before might as well have been stiff, scratchy paper.
“Holy shit.”
“Is it good?”
“I’ve never had anything like this. Wow. You really have to try it. You’ll regret it if you don’t.”
“That good?”
“Yes. Hurry.”
If it were Yohan, he’d have gone feral and lunged for it—probably devoured half of it before Haejun even finished speaking—but Lee Kangjoo looked uninterested. Even when Haejun pulled out another slice and held it out, he refused.
“You don’t like bread?”
“Not really.”
“Flour, then?”
“Yeah.”
So that was why he’d never touched breakfast all this ti. It wouldn’t be polite to force soone who hated it, so Haejun gloomily brought the bread back to his own mouth. It lted like snowflakes—he really wanted Lee Kangjoo to taste it, though.
As he sulked alone, Lee Kangjoo added, as if rembering sothing,
“By tomorrow afternoon, the house will be ready.”
“The house?”
“The one you used to live in, Cha Haejun.”
Haejun froze mid-chew. He started moving again, but less enthusiastically than before.
“Really? Then that crazy bastard next door is gone now?”
“There won’t be any new graffiti on your door.”
“That’s great. I’ll pack my stuff, then. About what ti tomorrow afternoon will it be finished?”
“Around four.”
“Yes, sir. Got it.”
Haejun answered brightly, hiding his disappointnt behind a neat smile.
* * *
Maybe because it was his last night, he couldn’t sleep. Haejun lay there awake for hours before finally getting out of bed.
Lee Kangjoo must’ve gone to work early—there wasn’t a sound in the house. It was a sha. This ti, he’d wanted to make a breakfast that suited Lee Kangjoo’s taste.
With a strange feeling, Haejun stepped out of the room. He stretched, chasing away the remnants of sleep, and looked around the living room.
In the empty house, he couldn’t even hear the ticking of a second hand. A chill crept up on him, and he rubbed his arms for no reason. A house without Lee Kangjoo always seed cold—despite the temperature being perfectly normal.
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