MYFL | Chapter 1.7

Seungjae watched Beomchan clutching the remaining cookies like they were a priceless treasure. After a moment, he parted his lips slightly, as if about to say something.

Sensing the weight of his gaze, Beomchan grew uneasy and subconsciously ran his fingers along the corners of his mouth.

“…Do I have crumbs on my face?”

Seungjae chuckled and shook his head.

“No, it’s not that. I actually have a favor to ask you. But if I bring it up now, it’ll seem like that’s the only reason I came. So I’ll ask next time.”

“…That sounds scary.”

Rather than suddenly bringing it up without warning, dragging out the conversation like this was even more nerve-wracking.

“What is it? Can’t you just tell me now?”

“Next time.”

Seungjae’s expression was surprisingly bright as he said that, so Beomchan decided to hold back his curiosity for now.

“I should get going.”

“Thanks for the food. And for the kids’ snacks too.”

“How many times are you gonna say thanks today?”

Seungjae waved his hand in the air as if to say, “Enough already,” looking slightly embarrassed. Then, he slowly made his way out of the office, greeting the kids as he left. The children, with cookie crumbs all over their mouths, beamed as they waved goodbye.

Since he couldn’t leave the kids alone in the dojo, Beomchan only saw him off up to the entrance. The moment Seungjae disappeared, one of the children suddenly blurted out,

“Master, are you dating the café sajangnim?”

“….”

Of all the questions to ask, they had to poke right where it hurt. Beomchan was too stunned and flustered to respond right away, and his brief silence became an opening for the kids to start bickering among themselves.

“Hey, how can two guys date?”

“Guys can date too, you idiot.”

“Yeah! I have two dads.”

“Me too.”

“You’re lying.”

“I’m not!”

The kids all raised their voices, insisting that they were right. The dojo quickly turned into a noisy mess.

“…That’s not what it is.”

Beomchan finally denied it, albeit a little late. But not a single kid was listening.

⋆˚🐾˖°

Just as Seungjae had said, it was merely an act of gratitude. And yet, Beomchan found himself getting excited over it for no reason. Maybe as some sort of punishment for that, Seungjae had become much harder to see after that day.

He would occasionally catch glimpses of him—when he took the kids down to the parking lot or when he passed by the café after a workout. But every time, he had to simply walk past without saying a word. Seungjae always looked too busy, to the point where even greeting him felt like it would be an interruption.

He wanted to see him. But knowing how swamped Seungjae must be, he didn’t want to get in the way. So, he settled for just watching his retreating figure from a distance.

As usual, Beomchan finished his last class of the day and took the kids home. Since their classes were scheduled to fit with their school hours, the final session at the dojo was always for the older elementary students.

The class ended at six, so by the time he dropped the kids off and returned, it was already past seven. His eyes naturally drifted toward the café, its lights still on under the darkening sky.

He hasn’t gone home yet? The lights were usually off by now. Through the glass, he caught glimpses of busy workers moving around inside. Maybe there’s some extra work left.

Is Seungjae there too?

His steps, which had been steady from the parking lot, gradually slowed as he neared the building. Without even realizing it, he tilted his head slightly, peering inside. That was when one of the workers inside noticed him and turned around.

“Are you looking for the sajangnim?”

The man called out through the open door.

“He just left a little while ago.”

“Oh, I see. Thank you.”

So much for trying to sneak a look unnoticed—he’d been caught red-handed. Embarrassment rushed up his spine, making the back of his neck burn like he’d been caught reading someone’s secret diary.

His sluggish steps quickened again as he hurriedly threw out a polite, “Take care,” and rushed into the dojo. Once inside, he dragged a hand down his heated face.

It wasn’t like he was planning to confess or anything. He had convinced himself it was fine as long as he just quietly liked him on his own. But realizing that others could tell—that he was so obvious about it—pricked at his conscience, making it impossible to ignore the discomfort any longer.

Because of his job, he had always prided himself on living a righteous life, holding himself to even stricter standards to ensure he wouldn’t be embarrassed in front of others. But then, after eight years, his first love with a boyfriend had suddenly reappeared, throwing all of that into disarray.

It frustrated him even more because Seungjae was someone he had already lost once—all because of that damn strict sense of discipline he’d set for himself.

Of course, things might not work out this time either. Maybe they just weren’t meant to be. But this time, he didn’t want to let it slip away so easily. He didn’t want to lose his chance without even trying.

Just what kind of person is he…

What kind of person goes almost three weeks without showing his face even once?

Sure, he could be busy. That made sense. But when he thought about it—if he were Seungjae’s boyfriend, he would have made time no matter what. He would’ve cared like it was his own business. As he climbed the stairs, heat simmered in his chest. He suddenly came to an abrupt stop, recalling the ring Seungjae always wore on his finger.

It was clearly a couple’s ring. That much was obvious. So someone was in the picture. And yet, Beomchan never saw them—only Seungjae.

With each passing day, his frustration only grew.

Beomchan had never heard Seungjae talk about dating or having a boyfriend. Of course, they weren’t close enough to share those kinds of conversations, but still—people usually let things slip. Something like, I have plans with my boyfriend or He’s picking me up later. Even just a passing mention. But there had been nothing. Not once.

It wasn’t that he wanted to hear about Seungjae’s boyfriend. It was just frustrating. Like fighting an invisible enemy. Am I even supposed to be in this fight? Maybe he should try poking around a bit. See how long they’ve been together, how much he likes him, what their relationship is like now.

And then, as if his thoughts had no sense of boundaries, more dangerous questions crept in, teasing him like an irritating itch just before a sneeze. He battled with himself every day—half of him wanting to know, the other half refusing to hear a word of it.

When he was younger, he thought that by the time he reached Seungjae’s age, he would have caught up to his maturity and composure. But looking at himself now? He had long since passed the age Seungjae was back then, and yet, the moment he stood in front of him, he still felt like a fumbling, clueless kid.

He was growing impatient. Restless. It was like being at the final boss fight in an arcade game—completely out of coins, barely holding on with just one last life. One wrong move and he’d lose his only chance.

That time… back when Seungjae had quit tutoring him without a single word. If, instead of sulking and feeling abandoned, he had actively sought him out—if he had refused to let an eight-year gap open between them, had stayed near even through college and after—would he still feel this anxious now?

But regrets couldn’t close the distance that had already been carved between them.

He had to accept it. The version of himself that was too scared to hold on back then—that version belonged in the past. He couldn’t go back, but he could still change what came next. And that choice was entirely in his hands.

He wasn’t reckless enough to gamble with someone’s feelings. But he was someone who got things done, step by step, no matter how long it took.

Might as well think positively.

Beomchan slowly climbed the stairs, forcing himself to be optimistic. Just a while ago, I didn’t even know where he was or how he was living. This is a luxury problem compared to that.

He entered the dojo, greeted by an empty silence that still carried faint traces of the children’s presence. He opened a window for ventilation and started tidying up—the training mitts and breaking boards that had been left scattered in the rush of seeing the kids off.

Pulling out a vacuum and mop from the office storage, he was just about to start cleaning properly when a low vibration echoed from inside the office. A phone call.

He leaned the cleaning tools against the wall and walked over to the desk where he had left his phone. Just as he reached for it, his hand froze mid-air.

The caller ID displayed Seungjae’s name.

Had that worker from earlier told Seungjae that he had been looking for him? What if Seungjae asked why he had been there? What was he supposed to say?

The phone’s vibration—probably the same intensity as usual—suddenly felt faster, louder. Urgent. Like it was pressuring him to pick up.

The anxiety pushed him over the edge. I can just make something up if I have to.

Before the call could disconnect, he quickly pressed the answer button.

“Yes, teacher.”

— Ah, you picked up. Are you still in class?

“No, I was just cleaning.”

— Then can I come up for a bit? It’s about that favor I mentioned last time.

That favor.

Beomchan remembered. He had asked about it before, but Seungjae had only said he’d tell him later. And then never brought it up again. What kind of request was so important that he had to drag it out this long?

It clearly wasn’t something that could be handled over the phone.

At first, he had just been curious. But now, the suspense was starting to genuinely scare him.

“Yeah, it’s fine. You can come up.”

— Thanks. I’ll be there soon.

Beomchan stared at his phone, his face unsettled even after the call ended.

Guess I’ll clean later. He put the cleaning supplies back inside and stepped outside the office. Catching his reflection in the dojo’s wall mirror, he adjusted his uniform slightly, smoothing out the folds.

Then, he heard the door open.

Fear was fear—but after so long, seeing Seungjae properly again made him happy first.

He quickly walked toward the entrance.

“You’re here.”

“Seeing it empty like this… it looks a lot bigger than when the kids are around.”

Seungjae glanced around the spacious dojo. Beomchan, who also always felt that way whenever he came back from dropping off the kids, gave a small nod in agreement. He grabbed a pair of guest slippers from the shoe rack.

“Yeah. Ah, here, put these on—”

He bent down slightly to place the slippers in front of Seungjae. And then—he stopped.

Something had caught his eye. A small figure, hiding behind Seungjae’s legs.

“Woojoo, come out and say hello.”

Noticing Beomchan’s stare, Seungjae looked down behind him. The child hesitated, fidgeting in place, but Seungjae gently placed a hand on their shoulder and guided them forward.

Their eyes met.

Beomchan, dazed, slowly straightened his posture.

“Hurry,” Seungjae urged.

With a tiny, hesitant voice, the child finally mumbled, “Hello…”

Beomchan’s pupils trembled violently.

What…What the hell is going on right now?