PS | Chapter 3.8

A sickening sense of déjà vu hit Jehyuk. His throat felt tight. He had been in this kind of situation more times than he could count—where people jumped to conclusions before he could explain. Most of the time, those kinds of people weren’t interested in listening anyway.

“Calm down and hear me out,” he tried.

“There’s nothing to hear.”

See? Just like always.

Before Jehyuk could say anything else, Ijun turned on his heel and walked away.

In the distance, Bada whispered something to Sihoo while watching the scene unfold. The fact that the person at the center of all this drama looked completely unbothered only made Jehyuk angrier.

Sihoo, noticing the tension, gestured for Jehyuk to come over. The wave looked casual, as if inviting him for a chat, but Jehyuk had no desire to talk right now.

He was half upset, half worried that if he spoke to Sihoo, Ijun would take it the wrong way and cause an even bigger problem.

Still, he couldn’t ignore Sihoo completely. A small part of him was genuinely glad to see him.

So instead of walking over, he simply lifted his hand in a brief wave. Then, without looking at Sihoo again, he slung his two duffel bags over his shoulders and headed into the locker room.

Maybe it was because he deliberately took his time changing clothes, but Jehyuk didn’t run into Sihoo or Bada on his way out. And just like that, he didn’t see Sihoo for the next few days. It wasn’t that Sihoo was particularly busy—Jehyuk was the one who was swamped.

As soon as classes ended, he had to go around searching for a place to stay that didn’t require a deposit.

Things weren’t looking good. No matter where he looked, the minimum rent was 300,000 won, and there were additional costs like maintenance fees or meal plans that made it difficult to make a decision. To make matters worse, his relationship with Ijun was weighing him down.

Ijun was usually the type to forget about conflicts quickly and start joking around again, but this time, he seemed genuinely upset. He was outright ignoring Jehyuk.

Honestly, that in itself didn’t hurt Jehyuk all that much. This wasn’t the first time something like this had happened. Every time people who had approached him first ended up disappointed and drifted away, Jehyuk had found himself repeating the cycle—accepting people he never intended to, only to lose them in the end.

It would be a lie to say he didn’t care about what happened with Ijun. After all, Ijun was one of the few people Jehyuk had gotten close to in college. They were also on the same team, so it didn’t sit right with him to let things stay tense between them. He needed to fix it somehow, but the problem was that he just didn’t have the time or energy right now.

In the meantime, things had gotten even more awkward.

He had tried talking to Ijun once, but Ijun completely ignored him and walked away. Then, during a free session where they split into teams for a practice game, Ijun somehow always ended up on the opposing team. Their teammates, who were aware of the situation, asked Jehyuk what was going on, but while Jehyuk kept his mouth shut, Ijun didn’t.

Because of that, Jehyuk’s standing within the team took a nosedive over the past few days.

Now, he was seen as an untrustworthy, disloyal bastard. It was frustrating to see things unravel like this. Who would’ve thought that giving Han Bada his number—just to avoid drawing attention from Im Kangmin—would end up backfiring like this?

Jehyuk neither had the patience nor the personality to go around explaining himself to everyone, so he just acted like he didn’t care and kept his head down, focusing on practice.

Because of Coach Shin’s presence, no one openly ostracized him, but the atmosphere had definitely become uncomfortable. Even the field, the only place where he had felt at peace, was no longer a sanctuary.

There was nowhere left for him to go. He couldn’t even take naps in the student lounge anymore.

He had reached his limit.

Jehyuk realized he would have to give something up. Even if it meant running himself ragged, maybe he could take on another tutoring job. That way, he could scrape by somehow.

But his previous student had already found a new tutor, and though he had put in a request for another tutoring gig through an agency, they said it would take time to find one.

And so, the last option left in his mind was his aunt.

It had been six days since he had been without a home.

That morning, rain began to fall. It was going to be a miserable day, trudging around in the rain to look for a room.

Having survived on just one meal a day, he was hungry. Sleep-deprived, his body ached with exhaustion. He rubbed his face, feeling the weight of it all pressing down on him, and let out a deep sigh.

Should I just call her?

His aunt would probably be willing to help him out, no matter how much it cost.

But the reason he hadn’t asked her for help until now was because he knew that she and his uncle weren’t in great financial shape either.

His uncle had blown through all of Jehyuk’s parents’ death compensation money trying to start a business.

By the time Jehyuk found out, it was already too late.

His aunt had apologized on her husband’s behalf, promising that she would find a way to repay him, but all that led to was another huge argument between the two of them. Watching them fight like that, Jehyuk had decided to just think of the money as gone.

Ever since then, his aunt and uncle had been struggling to pay off their loans. They also had two kids—Choi Jinyoung, who was in college, and Choi Ina, who was preparing for her entrance exams—so money was already tight.

If he became another financial burden on top of all that, it would only make things harder for his aunt.

And if she so much as showed a hint of struggle, his uncle and Jinyoung would immediately lash out. Their voices, filled with contempt, echoed in his mind.

You worthless piece of trash.

He could almost see them—Jinyoung yelling at him while Ina stood beside him, arms crossed. Her eyes, indifferent on the surface, carried an unmistakable look of disdain.

It was a difficult choice. He didn’t want to wander around homeless like this, but he also didn’t want to endure the humiliation of living under their roof. Either way, it would be hell.

Maybe I should just give up on everything. The thought crept into his mind. The stress he had been trying to ignore came crashing down all at once. Sinking into the student lounge couch, he buried his face in his hands. Darkness filled his vision as he silently reflected on his exhausting, relentless life.

Everything was his fault.

His friendships were a mess. His social skills were terrible. He never knew how to handle conflicts properly. And the people who had once liked him eventually left because of those shortcomings. He had thought none of that really mattered, that he could still get by just fine. But now, his college life—which had finally started feeling somewhat okay—was beginning to feel just like his childhood again.

A wave of emptiness settled over him. He wanted to give up.

For a long time, Jehyuk remained trapped in that silence. But in the end, he forced himself to move. Even if he ended up collapsing outside, he couldn’t keep imposing on others any longer.

There were already people who thought it was weird that he was staying in the student lounge. That place wasn’t meant for someone to live in anyway. It was time to stop being a burden. He slung his heavy backpack over his shoulders.

Today, he would find a place—no matter what.

He had two or three options in mind. They were all small gosiwons, each costing 310,000 won. That was the cheapest he could find. If he really needed cash urgently, he was prepared to do manual labor. As long as he didn’t get hurt, working a few shifts should be fine.

He just had to get through this. But of all days, today had to be the worst.

The rainstorm was relentless. April had been unusually pleasant, but now, a sudden cold snap had arrived, making the air chilly. The grassy quad, usually crowded with people, was completely deserted.

Jehyuk made his way down from the College of Education and stopped near the Business Administration building.

It wasn’t intentional. There just happened to be a gosiwon near the subway station past the business school. Still, despite himself, Jehyuk’s gaze lingered on the business school’s main building.

It was early in the morning, and with the first lecture of the day having just started, the building was quiet. The rain echoed through the empty campus, making him feel like the only person in the world.

I miss him. The thought came out of nowhere.

He had been trying not to think about it for days, but the gloomy weather weakened his resolve. He didn’t say who, but deep down, he already knew. There was only one person he thought of every time he passed by the business school.

Sihoo.

A strong gust of wind flipped his umbrella inside out. The sudden force made him lose his grip. Rain poured down, drenching him instantly. His umbrella tumbled across the pavement, finally coming to a stop against one of the business school’s entrance pillars.

Soaked from head to toe, Jehyuk trudged toward it, feeling drained. It was probably broken, but he figured it was better than nothing.

Jehyuk’s bag was too heavy, so he stepped under the main building’s entrance to place his duffel bags on the dry floor. Then, he bent down to pick up his hopelessly flipped umbrella.

At that moment, someone stepped up beside him.

A pair of leather shoes, which didn’t quite match a rainy day, came into view—polished, sleek, and unmistakably the kind Sihoo would wear.

“Jehyuk-ah.”

And just like that, Jehyuk had guessed right.

When he slowly straightened up at the deep, low voice from above, there stood Yoon Sihoo, his neatly styled hair swept back, dressed in a crisp white dress shirt.

Jehyuk blinked.

Of all times to run into Sihoo, why did it have to be now, when he was drenched and looking like a mess? And after five whole days, no less.

“Hey.”

Instead of greeting him warmly like usual, Jehyuk felt an overwhelming urge to escape as quickly as possible. He kept his greeting brief, hurriedly picking up his umbrella before grabbing the duffel bags he had set down.

He could feel Sihoo’s gaze land on his bags. The moment he sensed it, Jehyuk instinctively took a step back.

“You look sharp today. Did you come for class? I’m on my way to practice, so I’ll see you later.”

Not giving Sihoo a chance to respond, Jehyuk gripped his bag straps tightly and turned to leave. Or at least, he tried to.

“Stop, Ji Jehyuk.”

Sihoo’s hand grabbed his arm before he could take a step.

“What’s with those bags?”

His grip was firm, strong. Jehyuk was caught off guard—not just by the physical restraint, but by the fact that Sihoo had stopped him at all. Sihoo was the type to let people go, no matter what they did or said.

“It’s nothing. Sorry, but I really have to go.”