PS | Chapter 3.6

Jehyuk found himself thinking that without realizing it. The thought of Bada going to the movies and staying out this late made his mind feel complicated. Sihoo was probably used to things like this—coming home late after dating someone. If they were together until now… Did they kiss? Or do something more?

That “someone” quickly took shape and turned into Bada’s face. Sihoo had once mentioned that he preferred guys. That made the imagination even clearer.

Then, last night’s words flashed through his mind.

“What I want to do is, you know, push my dick inside your hole and pound into it.”

This wasn’t the right moment to be thinking about that, but the words surfaced instantly. His subconscious mind overlapped those words with Sihoo and Bada’s figures. Were they… doing something like that? Had Bada seen Sihoo’s bare body, that expression on his face, the one too explicit to describe?

Jehyuk felt ridiculous even for thinking it. He bit his lip hard and shut his eyes. This wasn’t something he should care about or imagine. He tried to ignore the growing curiosity and kept tapping at the keyboard, deleting and rewriting words over and over again.

Noticing Jehyuk’s long silence, Sihoo spoke first.

[Something wrong?] Sihoo’s voice echoed in his mind again.

He wanted to see him.

They had always preferred talking in person rather than texting, and back in high school, they had seen each other every day. This felt more natural.

He really wanted to see him.

It was an unfamiliar thought. In the past, he’d never felt such an urgent desire. Seeing Sihoo had been nice, being together had been comfortable, but his emotions had never overflowed like this before. But now, the difference was striking. He wanted to see him so much, so much, so much—to the point where he felt like running to him immediately.

“Nothing’s much.”

If they lived together, he’d be able to see Sihoo every day, right?

Jehyuk kept writing and erasing the words he wanted to say.

‘Something came up. Can I crash at your place for a bit? I’ll pay rent.’

That one sentence dangled at his fingertips, waiting to be sent.

[If something’s up, just tell me. I’m going to sleep now, Hyuk-ah. See you later.]

Sihoo ended the conversation, maybe because Jehyuk hesitated for too long.

The firmness in his message felt like distance.

Jehyuk deleted the sentence he had been agonizing over.

It probably wouldn’t work. Even if it did, it didn’t feel right to burden Sihoo.

“Good night.”

That was all he replied with before turning off his phone, trying to sleep. But regret pricked at his throat like tiny needles.

When he closed his eyes, all he could think about was Sihoo and Bada at lunch earlier. What had they talked about? What kind of bond had they built today?

There was no way he was going to fall asleep.

Was this the feeling Sihoo had described before? The reason he had decided to help Jehyuk?

Sihoo had said that he felt this way when Jehyuk drifted away, when he saw him making other friends.

This strange, foreign emotion took over his entire focus, making it impossible to think about anything else.

It felt like carrying a rough-edged stone in his chest.

In the end, he picked up his phone again. An hour had passed just lying there.

If he kept this up, he’d stay up all night.

After a few minutes of deliberation, he gathered his courage and sent a message.

He used one of Sihoo’s previous words as an excuse.

“You said you wanted to watch me practice before. I have a match tomorrow. It’s at 10 AM in Uijeongbu. If you have time, come watch. It’s totally fine if you don’t.”

After sending the location, his heart pounded like crazy.

Why was he this nervous?

Then again, maybe it made sense.

He had never invited anyone to his match before.

His aunt had come a few times, but that was family. Even that had started feeling like a burden after a while.

But this was different. This was the first time he wanted someone to come.

Lying on his side, Jehyuk waited for a reply.

But 10 minutes passed. Then 30. Then an hour.

No response.

Guess he’s not coming.

Or maybe he’s already asleep.

Jehyuk never ended up falling asleep either.

Not wanting to waste the sleepless night, he started packing to move out.

He grabbed his toothbrush and toothpaste from the bathroom, shoved his clothes into two duffel bags, and was grateful that he had already stored his textbooks in a school locker.

The last thing he packed was a photo album with family pictures.

And that was it.

Two bags. That was everything he had.

Maybe it was a good thing he had run out of shampoo and shower gel—less stuff to carry.

Jehyuk sat on the edge of his bed, staring at his ridiculously small amount of belongings.

As morning came, the smell of cooking rice wafted down from upstairs.

He tried to recall the mornings of his childhood but was only met with faint, blurred memories.

With his legs dangling off the bed, he wrapped his arms around his knees.

He had barely gotten used to living without warmth.

But lately, because of Sihoo, he started craving human warmth again.

Just because he was afraid of physical touch didn’t mean he didn’t need warmth.

In truth, Jehyuk had always wanted to be close to someone.

It was just that the fear of losing them had always been greater.

But now, he wasn’t sure anymore.

Which was scarier—being rejected and ridiculed, or being alone, holding onto the cold air?

These two fears had always held equal weight inside him, so he had always put off making a choice.

Even now.

Jehyuk stopped thinking altogether and simply waited for Sihoo’s reply.

It never came.

Eventually, before heading to his match, he managed to get a little sleep.

***

Ji Jehyuk had dozed off for a bit, but it almost turned into a deep sleep that would have made him late. Thankfully, he wasn’t. Since he was heading out anyway, he decided to take his stuff with him. It was better to leave it in the locker room after the game rather than come all the way back here. Plus, he didn’t want to risk running into the landlady and exchanging awkward pleasantries. This was a boarding house with no deposit, so he could just leave like this, and that would be the end of it.

With two duffel bags slung over his shoulders, Jehyuk arrived at the sports complex. It wasn’t as big as the ones in the heart of Seoul, but it was still quite large. Since most tournaments in Uijeongbu were held here, the place was familiar to him.

He had made it just in time, but he was still the last of the players to arrive. Coach Shin shot him a sharp glare, gesturing toward the team already stretching. Jehyuk quickly set down his bags and rushed onto the field.

The morning dew clung to the lush grass. As he stepped onto it, the slight squelch under his cleats felt familiar. He made his way toward Ijun, who was already seated on the ground, stretching his ankle back and forth.

“You made it? That was cutting it close,” Ijun greeted him with a wave.

Jehyuk simply nodded in response and started stretching beside him. Once they finished partner stretches and a few warm-up jogs in a straight line, the match scheduled for 10 AM would be right around the corner.

The stands were empty. No scouts in sight yet. In official tournaments or friendly matches between strong teams, scouts and officials usually showed up early in the morning. But since today’s opponent was a bottom-tier team in the university league, it seemed like no one had bothered to come early.

Following Jehyuk’s gaze, Ijun also glanced at the stands and muttered, “They were talking about contracts and all that, but I bet no one’s even gonna show up. Guess we won’t know until after the fall tournament. Still, you’ve got it good, Jehyuk, you punk. The coach is backing you, so you’re guaranteed to debut this year.”

“That’s not really true.”

“The hell it isn’t. You’re just being modest again.”

“Our whole team is good. You too.”

Ijun seemed pleased by the remark, rubbing his nose in satisfaction. “I do wanna hurry up and get signed, though. But hey, why didn’t you join a youth club? I heard you had the chance.”

Jehyuk stared at Ijun, wondering how he knew that. Sensing the question, Ijun added, “I overheard Coach Shin talking to you.”

It was true that he had spoken with Coach Shin a few times, so it wasn’t impossible for Ijun to have heard. Still, it made Jehyuk realize just how quick Ijun was at picking up on things. How much did he actually know? Did he know about Jehyuk’s past, or had he only caught snippets of Coach Shin’s words? The thought made him uneasy.

“There were personal reasons.”

Talking about why he didn’t join a club would inevitably bring up his family situation. He hadn’t even told Sihoo, so there was no reason to tell Ijun. Drawing a firm boundary, he made it clear that Ijun didn’t need to know.

“Man, you’ve got so many secrets.”

Ijun’s tone was casual, but there was a hint of sincerity in his words.

“You never tell your friends anything.”

“Friends don’t need to know everything.”

“Man, you’re so cold.”

For some reason, Ijun was picking at things more than usual today. Just as Jehyuk was about to ask what his problem was, Ijun’s face suddenly brightened. He had been glancing at the stands the whole time, and now he shot up, waving enthusiastically.

Jehyuk followed his gaze. There, in the stands, was someone he hadn’t expected to see. He had seen this face just yesterday, and he definitely hadn’t thought they would know Ijun.

“Han Bada?”

Jehyuk said the name out loud. Bada, who had been waving lightly at Ijun, hesitated when he spotted Jehyuk, his expression turning slightly awkward.

Curious, Jehyuk immediately turned to Ijun. “How do you two know each other?”

“You mean Bada? We take the same elective class. Judging by your reaction, I guess he finally talked to you, huh?”

Ijun was still looking at Bada as he replied.

“Finally?”

Something about that word didn’t sit right with Jehyuk. He grabbed Ijun’s shoulder, pulling him close with a firm grip.

“What do you mean by that?”

“The hell, man? Let go and talk.”

Ijun shook off Jehyuk’s grip, brushing off his clothes in irritation. He responded in a nonchalant tone, as if this wasn’t a big deal.

“Bada was looking for Yoon Sihoo’s number, so I told him to ask you. You two are close, right?”

Jehyuk let out a short laugh in disbelief. So that’s how it was. Bada hadn’t learned about him through their shared elective class—he had heard about him through Ijun.

There wasn’t anything particularly wrong with what Ijun had done, but the fact that he had talked about Jehyuk to someone else bothered him.

“Why are you telling other people about me and Sihoo?”

“Damn, you’re making a big deal out of nothing. I just told him the truth—what’s the problem? It’s not like you’re some kind of bigshot. I just mentioned what I saw, so what’s the issue?”

Technically, he wasn’t wrong. But something about it still felt off.

As their conversation grew more heated, Coach Shin yelled from across the field, “Both of you, shut up and focus on warming up!”