PS | Chapter 2.9

At first, Jehyuk only listened, but as the alcohol started taking effect, he found himself responding little by little.

“I actually like quiet people.”

“Why? That sounds boring.”

“I can make it interesting.”

Is that so? Jehyuk nodded. To be honest, he didn’t fully grasp what Yieon was saying.

It didn’t help that he kept losing in drinking games and getting hit with punishments. On top of that, Rina kept forcing him to play the “black knight” and drink on her behalf. And on his own, his nerves had been so high-strung that he kept drinking whatever was in front of him. At this point, he was well past his limit. His body felt weightless, and his vision flickered.

“Sure. I’m sure you’ll find someone like that.”

For some reason, Yieon burst into laughter at Jehyuk’s words. His loud laugh drew attention to the two of them, and Kangmin, clearly tipsy, said something weird.

“You two have good chemistry.”

A heavily drunk Shin Jongchan slurred as he butted in,

“Are we already seeing people pairing up for after-dates?”

“You guys look good together. Isn’t Yieon basically your type, Jehyuk?”

Yunjin played along with Jongchan, teasing Jehyuk and Yieon.

Instead of denying it, Yieon just smiled and took a shot. He downed the drink—a mix of beer with just a splash of soju—in one go, and Yunjin’s friend, Jin Hee, let out a playful boo.

“Ugh, he’s pretending to be shy.”

“Sunbae, Yieon is really popular, you know? But his standards are so high that he’s never actually dated anyone.”

Jehyuk had no idea how everyone seemed to know so much about each other or why they were all so outgoing. Having nothing to say, he just took another sip of his drink.

That was when Yieon grabbed his wrist.

“Sunbae, you’ve been drinking a lot since earlier. Didn’t Kangmin-sunbae say you’re not a strong drinker?”

“He’s the weakest in our entire department,” Kangmin cut in. “Rina over there can handle four bottles, but this guy taps out after two.”

Still drinking on her own, Rina nodded in agreement. She had been sneakily keeping an eye on Jehyuk the whole time, and after a glance at his face, she reached a conclusion.

“He’s done.”

Rina nudged Jehyuk’s arm with her elbow.

“Why are you drinking so much today? That’s not like you. You’re usually the type to pace yourself and know your limits. You seem like you have something on your mind.”

Jehyuk didn’t answer. People who are drunk always insist they aren’t, so there was no point in saying anything and making it obvious.

“Then can I leave?”

He asked if he could escape from this uncomfortable situation, but Rina blocked him.

“What are you talking about? It’s only been an hour. Just go wash your face or something.”

Then she mouthed silently, ‘I’m not interested in him.’

It seemed like Rina’s supposed partner was the only one interested in her. Somehow, it felt like he owed her a vague sort of debt. With that in mind, Jehyuk decided to endure for just one more hour.

As he stood up to leave, Yieon followed.

“I’ll go with you.”

“I’m fine.”

Jehyuk braced against the dizziness as he pushed his chair back. The table was arranged so that four people sat facing each other. As he tried to step away, his body swayed the moment he took a step.

Right then, Yieon caught him from behind.

“You don’t look fine.”

An arm pressed against his waist.

Jehyuk suddenly sobered up.

A visceral sense of discomfort surged through his body, making his stomach churn. He barely stopped himself from shoving Yieon away and instead pushed him off carefully.

“I’ll go alone. I really am fine. Thanks for worrying.”

Before Yieon could follow, Jehyuk turned him down firmly, his face stiff. He didn’t have the mental space to worry about how this looked to others. It had been so long since someone had touched him like this outside of sports that he had momentarily forgotten how much he hated it.

The second their skin made contact, a rigid discomfort locked up his body, and an endless fear wrapped around him.

It wasn’t the first time. There were multiple occasions where Rina had tried to hold his hand, and every time, he had to find a careful way to pull away.

The alcohol haze dissipated in an instant.

Using that clarity, Jehyuk slipped outside. The cool night air brushed against his face, and only then did he feel like he could breathe again.

The crowd had thinned a little, most of the people having gone inside. He leaned against a nearby tree, listening to the distant murmur of voices.

I’m going insane.

A deep, unexplainable self-loathing filled his chest. Being here, behaving like this—it all felt like proof that Ji Jehyuk was somehow defective.

The brief moment of clarity he’d gained outside was quickly muddled by the returning intoxication, sending his emotions spiraling again.

He had thought he was getting better.

When Sihoo touched him, he felt fine. Maybe he had been mistaken in thinking a few days of that would be enough.

He hated feeling like this, like some isolated freak.

He just wanted to interact with people normally, like he did when he was with Sihoo.

If he had been sober, he wouldn’t have let himself get swept up in emotions this much. But the alcohol had drowned his rationality.

Sihoo wasn’t responding, so logically, he should stop reaching out. But at this moment, he just wanted to see him.

So Jehyuk, like an idiot, pulled out his phone and called again.

He had already sent a text. He had already called once.

Yet he couldn’t stop himself.

The dial tone rang for a long time before cutting off.

Instead of giving up like before, he called again. The phone rang and rang.

He’s not going to pick up.

What if Sihoo never wants to see me again?

He’s my only friend. Even if I make new ones, none of them will be like Sihoo.

That thought hit him like a wave of despair.

Then—

– Hyuk-ah.

Sihoo’s voice echoed from somewhere in the distance. Jehyuk blinked.

“Sihoo-ya.”

– Why do you keep calling?

Ah, so he was watching. It’s not like he left his phone somewhere—he had it with him but chose not to answer. The single word keep made reality hit cold and hard. In an instant, Jehyuk sobered up, his body turning cold. It felt like ice water coursing through his veins, freezing him in place.

He had known Sihoo for four years, but never had he felt this distant from him. His hand gripping the phone began to tremble slightly, the blue veins rising on the back of his hand.

“…I, I’m really sorry. I messed up.”

He thought he could hear a sigh through the receiver. Fearful of silence, Jehyuk hurriedly whispered,

“I wasn’t thinking straight. There were a lot of people watching, and I acted selfishly. So… can you stop being mad at me?”

Pathetically, his voice ended up trembling.

Sihoo, who had remained silent the whole time, finally asked in a quiet voice,

– Are you drunk?

This time, his voice was terrifying.

There were rare moments when, despite being the same 21 years old, Sihoo felt older—this was one of those moments.

“…No.”

His weak denial only prompted another question.

– How much did you drink?

A strange sense of relief spread through him. If Sihoo was asking about his condition, maybe that meant his anger had subsided a little. Like a scolded puppy, Jehyuk quickly responded.

“I drank a little. Had some somaek (soju and beer), but I’m fine.”

– No, you’re not.

Sihoo’s voice was filled with certainty, and Jehyuk had to admit it. In this state, he wasn’t confident he could take the bus home.

– Can you get home? Where are you?

“Gangnam Station. I can get home.”

At the mention of Gangnam Station, Sihoo let out a quiet, incredulous laugh.

– You never stray far from campus. What the hell are you doing at Gangnam Station? I’d think you were at a meeting or something.

How did he know?

Jehyuk blinked slowly, then asked in a dazed voice.

“…How did you know?”

– ……

His question was met with silence.

Only Sihoo’s steady breathing echoed through the receiver. Jehyuk, now just as tense, unconsciously held his breath the entire time Sihoo remained silent. Just as his lungs began to burn, Sihoo finally spoke.

– Did you just say meeting?

His voice was completely different now—angry.

Jehyuk tried to figure out what he had done wrong this time. Had Sihoo been holding back his frustration all this time? Given that he hadn’t explicitly responded to Jehyuk’s earlier apology, that seemed likely.

Jehyuk scrambled to come up with something to say. But nothing came to mind.

“…Yeah.”

So, in the end, he just admitted it.

– Is it the meeting that Han Bada set up for you?

At the mention of Bada’s name, Jehyuk’s heart started pounding like crazy. The muscles and bones holding it together ached from the force.

Should he lie?

If Sihoo got angrier, he’d definitely get angrier, not less. But if he just admitted it outright, it felt like he’d be in even deeper trouble.

Still, he couldn’t bring himself to lie.

Jehyuk didn’t want to mess up with Sihoo any more than he already had.

“…Yeah.”

– So you’re talking about the meeting you got by giving out my number—the number that no one but my family knows?

…Wait, it was that important?

Jehyuk felt like he had been smacked in the head.

Even in his drunken haze, he realized that he had really, really screwed up.

He hadn’t thought that much about it when he gave the number away. He never imagined it was something so significant.

And yet, even in this disaster of a situation, a fleeting sense of joy passed through him. It had no place in this moment, but still—it felt like proof that he was definitely Sihoo’s closest friend.

– The people in my department, even my professors, know my ‘other’ number. The only person at our school who has my personal number is you. I never told you this because I didn’t think I had to. I trusted you wouldn’t do something like this. But…

But. The fleeting joy shattered into dust.

Sihoo’s voice was so dry it felt almost emotionless.

Jehyuk could guess what came next—the unspoken words hung in the air.

He had broken Sihoo’s trust.

There was nothing he could say.

If he tried to defend himself, he’d just sound pathetic.

It didn’t matter what the situation was back then—he had made the wrong choice in the moment because he didn’t want to deal with unnecessary hassle.

If it were him, he wouldn’t have liked it either. If someone found out his number through Sihoo, he would have been pissed. And Sihoo, someone who hated getting entangled with people, would hate it even more.

Jehyuk had always assumed Sihoo’s distance from others came from a past wound, something similar to his own.

And yet, even knowing that, he had ignored it for his own convenience.

“Sihoo-ya, I—.”

Just as Jehyuk was about to apologize with a trembling voice, Yieon, who had come looking for him, called out.

“Sunbae, why aren’t you coming? Are you okay?”

Startled, Jehyuk turned around abruptly and lost his grip on his phone. His hands had been shaking so badly that he must have lost strength.

With a loud crash, the phone hit the asphalt, corner first, completely shattering upon impact.