MYFL | Chapter 3.9

He hated this feeling. His insides churned as if he were about to throw up, everything bothering him at once.

The words he had said to Beomchan that day were sincere, and he still had no intention of taking them back. However, Beomchan’s hurt expression, Yeonji’s words, and Woojoo’s worried face all combined to create an unpleasant pressure.

He didn’t feel good. But he didn’t know what to say or how to bring it up. Normally, he would have avoided such uncomfortable situations as much as possible. But that wasn’t an option with someone he had to see regularly.

His head hurt. Whether it was because of the issue with Beomchan or something else, he felt unusually heavy both physically and mentally today. Even in a more exhausted state than usual, his body—accustomed to work—managed to endure until the end of the day.

Perhaps it was a sense of relief from having made it through the day safely. As Seungjae turned to clear the empty cups, he let out a sharp cry of pain. His wrist had hit the edge of the counter, and a sharp sting radiated through the area.

Seungjae instinctively wrapped his opposite hand around the injured wrist, rubbing it up and down. When he rolled up his sleeve, a dark bruise was revealed.

Yeonji, seeing this, asked in surprise.

“Did you just bruise it?”

“No, I hit a spot that was already bruised. I should put something on this edge—I keep hitting it these days.”

Yeonji clicked her tongue. They had been working in the same space, performing the same tasks, yet she couldn’t recall Seungjae injuring himself before. She had a rough idea of the cause. His mind was probably elsewhere.

“If it’s bothering you that much, why don’t you go and sort it out?”

“Is it that obvious?” Seungjae asked with an awkward smile. Then, letting out a deep sigh, he grumbled with a reluctant expression.

“Ah, I really hate this uncomfortable stuff.”

“Who likes being uncomfortable? You do it because you have to.”

Right. He knew. He couldn’t keep going like this, and if he wanted to change things, he had to handle them himself.

After a brief hesitation, Seungjae took off his apron. He folded it a couple of times and set it down before stepping around the counter.

“Then I’ll just go up for a bit. Take care of Woojoo.”

“Yeah, don’t worry and go.” Yeonji finally pushed Seungjae’s back with a much lighter expression.

⋆˚🐾˖°

After getting off work, Beomchan headed straight to the bathroom to wash away his fatigue. The cold air in the bathroom hit his bare skin without any filter. Beomchan shivered slightly before immediately turning on the faucet and twisting the valve. A strong stream of water gushed out from the showerhead fixed at his height, some of the streams veering off course and spraying in random directions. What started as one or two stray streams gradually increased over time.

Maybe it’s time to change it. Well, it’s been there since he moved in, so it must be old. But Beomchan quickly dismissed the thought. Even though the unruly water streams were ticklish and annoying, they weren’t unusable.

Beomchan placed his face under the showerhead. As the water poured over his forehead and cheeks, he couldn’t help but think of Seungjae. He often thought of him, but after their argument, Seungjae constantly haunted his mind.

Whether he was taking a break like now, about to sleep, exercising, or even working, thoughts of Seungjae drove him crazy. Most of these thoughts were filled with self-blame and regret, making it even more painful.

He remembered calling out to Seungjae as he hurriedly left the café today. He wanted to act as if nothing had happened, but just seeing Seungjae’s face reminded him of the words from that day, and he felt like crying. That’s why he couldn’t stay in the café any longer. He knew his actions made Seungjae uncomfortable. He couldn’t be a burden anymore. So, it was right to sort things out.

After washing up, Beomchan rubbed his wet hair with a towel and picked up his clothes. That’s when he heard a knock on the front door. The unexpected sound made him pause. His gaze shifted to the firmly closed door. He had a feeling he knew who was standing on the other side without needing to ask.

After a moment of hesitation, Beomchan draped the damp towel over a chair and headed to the door. He grabbed the handle and turned it. As expected, Seungjae was standing there.

“Can we talk? It’s not something to discuss over the phone. It won’t take long,” Seungjae said.

Beomchan habitually observed Seungjae’s expression. Although his voice was calm, the way he spoke quickly and the slight tension on his face showed that coming here hadn’t been easy for him.

Just as Beomchan had decided to sort things out, Seungjae had also mustered the courage to tie up their relationship in some form. So, Beomchan couldn’t help but nod.

He slipped his feet into his slippers and stepped outside. The sound of the door closing behind him felt strangely heavy. Without a word, Seungjae sat on the bench. Beomchan followed, sitting down next to him while keeping a reasonable distance. An uncomfortable silence ensued.

What was he going to say? Beomchan started to feel scared. His knees trembled slightly with tension. He could feel Seungjae’s gaze from the side.

“Aren’t you cold?” Seungjae asked, his eyes drifting to Beomchan’s thin hoodie and shorts. His hair was still wet, as if he had just showered. His expression was like a drenched puppy.

“I’m fine… What do you want to talk about?” Beomchan asked cautiously, his voice subdued.

“About what happened last time,” Seungjae finally broke the silence, choosing his words carefully. He clasped his hands together, pressing his knuckles gently.

Beomchan’s gaze naturally followed those hands. Then, noticing something, his eyes widened as he suddenly grabbed Seungjae’s forearm.

“Ah…!” Seungjae grimaced in discomfort at the rough grip, but Beomchan, as if he couldn’t hear, hurriedly rolled up Seungjae’s sleeve.

“What are you doing?” Seungjae asked sharply.

The bruise that had been partially visible was now fully exposed. The dark blue color was vivid enough to make anyone frown. Beomchan’s eyes wavered. Even as Seungjae tried to pull his arm away and repeatedly called his name, Beomchan just stared blankly at the bruise.

“…What is this? Did someone hit you?”

“What?”

“Did they actually hit you? No, I mean, ah…”

The hand gripping Seungjae’s forearm trembled. A red mark in the shape of a hand began to form on his skin. Ah, only then did Beomchan hurriedly let go, as if he had touched something burning hot.

“What do you mean, ‘did I get hit’?”

Seungjae rubbed his arm where Beomchan had grabbed him, repeating Beomchan’s words. The question was so out of the blue that, for a moment, he thought it might be a joke. But Beomchan’s condition was anything but normal. He was shaking, looking as though he might collapse at any moment. It was clear he had misunderstood something ridiculous.

“Hey… it’s not like that. I just bumped into something while working.”

Ah.

As soon as Seungjae spoke, Beomchan’s face turned pale. Seungjae, who had expected him to be relieved once the misunderstanding was cleared up, was instead taken aback by Beomchan’s expression.

“What’s wrong with you? Are you okay?”

Seungjae asked in a worried voice.

― You look like you wanted it to be true, you jerk.

Beomchan curled his large body up and buried his face in his palms. There’s no way he wanted Seungjae to be hit. Absolutely not.

He didn’t even know if he was alive or dead, or how he was living. Just being close wasn’t enough, and he secretly harbored greedy desires. How could this be called affection? It wasn’t for him, nor was it even for himself.

“What’s wrong?”

Seungjae asked again after a long silence. He placed a hand on Beomchan’s shoulder, gently stroking him as if to comfort him, who had no intention of lifting his head. Only then did Beomchan slowly straighten his hunched body.

“Beomchan,” Seungjae called again. The gentle voice pierced through him. The warmth poured onto him, who didn’t even deserve to be worried about, and Beomchan couldn’t help but spill out the dark desires inside him like a confession.

“…At first.”

As Beomchan opened his mouth, he felt Seungjae’s gaze and attention fully focused on him. His voice trembled pathetically. Yet, Beomchan didn’t stop, as if he had decided to spill everything out.

“At first, I thought it would be okay if I just liked you on my own.”

No, Beomchan shook his head slightly. Even the words he spoke, deciding to be honest, weren’t true.

“This is a lie too. Actually, after meeting you again, I had expectations on my own. But after seeing Woojoo, thinking I had to give up again was so hard… I know I should stop, and I know it’s a nuisance. I really know it in my head…”

“…”

“Wishing for the happiness of the person you like… That’s really obvious, isn’t it? But it’s not working, teacher. I keep having bad thoughts. Just now… This isn’t right. It’s weird.”

The more he spoke, the more his body, which had barely been holding on, shrank back in fear. He thought he had to endure whatever reaction came at the end of this confession, but when it came down to it, he wanted to avoid it. The longer the silence stretched, the more he didn’t want to hear it.

He didn’t have the courage to look at Seungjae’s expression. Every time he heard the faint sound of Seungjae exhaling, as if about to speak, or the subtle movement of his lips, his shoulders flinched. And when Seungjae, who had been carefully choosing his words for a while, finally opened his mouth, Beomchan quickly interrupted—like his feet were on fire.

“Beomchan, actually—”

“I’ll sort it out as soon as possible. I’ll make sure nothing like last time happens again. I’ll—”

“Beomchan.”

“…”

Seungjae, who had been silently watching Beomchan cut him off, called his name again—his voice firm, different from before.

“I was too harsh that day. I shouldn’t have spoken like that to someone who was just worried about me. I’m sorry.”