Vol 6 Bonus track 6

“Peter. Are you feeling any better?”  

 

His mother touched his forehead, her voice filled with worry.  

 

“…Yes.”  

 

“Your fever has gone down.”  

 

She gently brushed back her son’s hair as she spoke.  

 

“Are you really not going to school?”  

 

Instead of answering, Peter pulled the sheet over his face.  

 

After he returned from the party, he had a fever all night and didn’t go to school the next day. The day after that, and the day after that, he stayed in bed, using his poor health as an excuse not to leave.

“If you don’t go today, you probably won’t be able to go to school for a while.” Today was the start of vacation. It was a huge relief.

 

“…I’m sorry.”

 

“Don’t be sorry. You’re not feeling well.”

 

He wasn’t so unwell that he couldn’t go to school. Even so, his mother quietly comforted her son. He felt a heavy guilt. But that didn’t make him want to go to school. If he could, he wouldn’t take a single step out of bed for the rest of his life.

 

“Peter. We’re going to Grandma’s later. Would you like to come? She baked plenty of peanut butter cookies, just the way you like.”

 

“…I’ll stay home.”

 

Going there would probably cheer him up, but he didn’t want to see anyone right now. Not even his beloved grandmother.

 

“Alright. Get some rest, and let me know if you need anything.”

 

“Okay.”

 

“Oh, right.” His mother pulled out a phone from her pocket.

 

“You can start using this at midnight, if you need it…”

 

“It’s okay. You can give it to me later.”

 

“Peter. There’s nothing wrong, is there?”

 

“…Nothing’s wrong.”

 

Without another word, his mother patted his back and left the room. Peter slowly pulled down the sheets and saw the phone on the table. He thought about turning it on but decided against it.

 

Philip probably would have messaged him, but he didn’t have the courage to check right now.

 

Whenever he closed his eyes, scenes from the party flashed in his mind. It made him feel sick to his stomach. He felt tears welling up and buried his face back into his pillow.

 

It was worse than the time he’d been thrown into a pool in the middle of winter after being invited to a party or after coming back from being bullied by Fred. He hadn’t even been harmed this time… So why did he feel so miserable and heartbroken?

 

Even falling from heaven to hell would feel better than this.

 

After crying for a long time, he fell asleep. When he opened his eyes, the wallpaper in his room was tinted with the colors of sunset. A plate with bread and fruit and a note were on the table.

 

Peter. We’re at Grandma’s. Call if you need anything.  

With love, Mom.

 

His mother’s kind and pretty handwriting warmed his heart. Peter reached for the bread but put it back down. He didn’t feel like eating, though he was thirsty enough to leave his bed. The house was quiet; everyone must have gone to Grandma’s. He drank some water and then felt like washing up. He went to the bathroom, took a hot shower, and came back out to see it had grown dark and started to rain.

 

Peter stared blankly out the window, then climbed the stairs. As he opened the door, he noticed the faint smell of rain and instinctively lifted his head.

 

Had he left the window open?

 

He walked over to the window, where rain was blowing in, and as he placed his hand on the sill, a low voice came from behind him.

 

“Hello.”

 

“…!”

 

He couldn’t even scream. It was the first time he’d ever felt his heart stop in pure terror. A rain-soaked man was sitting quietly on his bed.

 

“H-how did you…”

 

Philip pointed at the half-open window with a nod.

 

“I kept throwing pebbles, but you didn’t respond. Sorry.” He didn’t sound sorry at all. Seeing Peter lost for words and unsure of what to do, Philip continued, “Don’t worry. I came in quietly.”

 

He stood up from the bed, his presence somehow filling the room with tension.

 

“Is something going on?”

 

“What?”

 

“You’ve been skipping school. Nobody knows why, and you’re not answering your messages.” After thinking for a moment, Philip asked, “Are you sick?”

 

“…A little.”

 

“Have you seen a doctor?”

 

Peter shook his head. He wasn’t sick enough to need one, just feeling a bit feverish and down.

 

“Shouldn’t you at least go to a hospital?” His concern made Peter unable to look up.

 

“…It’s fine. Just a mild cold.”

 

A large hand touched his forehead.

 

“Doesn’t seem like you have a fever.”

 

Embarrassed for no reason, Peter lowered his head even further.

 

“Are you in a lot of pain?”

 

The gentle voice made him want to cry. Peter just shook his head in silence.

 

“You haven’t been answering my messages.”

 

“…My parents told me not to use my phone for a week because of what happened that day.”

 

“That day?”

 

Philip asked, looking genuinely confused.

 

“With Aaron and that…”

 

“Oh.”

 

Philip tilted his head slightly.

 

“You didn’t do anything.”

 

“…”

 

“So why are you the one being punished?”

 

“Because I was with him.”

 

“If you hadn’t been there, it could have ended a lot worse.” 

 

Peter looked up in surprise at Philip’s cold voice. He expected him to add a casual, “Just kidding,” like he always did, but Philip only looked down at Peter with an expressionless face. Their eyes met. As their gazes locked, a chill of tension swept through Peter’s stomach. The air in the room felt as if it was heating up. Philip slowly lowered his head. Just before their lips met, Peter turned his face away.

 

“…Why?”

 

The low voice questioned him.

 

“Sorry?”

 

“I don’t understand why you’re acting like this.”

 

Philip’s cold, emotionless gaze seemed to scrutinize him, sending a chill down Peter’s spine. He shrank back, unconsciously taking a step backward.

 

“You barely respond to me, you won’t even look at me…” Philip stepped closer, bringing his face near enough for Peter to feel his breath on his cheek as he spoke calmly.

 

“The phone you said you couldn’t use is right over there.” He pointed to the phone on the bedside table.

 

“I… my mother gave it to me earlier…”

 

“Got it but didn’t even turn it on, did you?”

 

“……”

 

“Didn’t it cross your mind to wonder how many times I called you? How many messages I sent?”

 

His tone, heavy with reproach, pierced Peter’s ears. With no response from Peter, Philip let out a short laugh.

 

“Take this.”

 

Philip held out the bag slung over his shoulder to Peter.

 

“……”

 

“The bag you left behind. I brought it to school every day, thinking you’d need it for your assignments.”

 

Adding a bitter remark, Philip handed over the bag. Peter murmured a quiet, “I’m sorry,” as he reached out to take it, but Philip didn’t release his grip on the bag’s strap.

 

“Um…”

 

“Is that all you have to say?” Holding onto the bag, he questioned.

 

Peter wanted to ask.

 

Why did you kiss that other girl? Are you seeing her now? Then, how long will I be able to see you…?

 

There were so many things he wanted to say, but none of them would leave his throat. He felt like Philip would mock him, asking if he really thought he was that special.

 

Peter clenched and unclenched his sleeve, over and over.

 

“If you have nothing else to say, I’ll go.”

 

Philip handed over the bag and turned away. Peter instinctively grabbed Philip’s sleeve. Philip turned back, his face still unreadable, waiting for Peter to speak.

 

“I… I…”

 

Peter mustered his courage to look up, only to see Philip’s neck—the neck that girl had embraced and kissed.

 

Just the memory of that scene made him nauseous, as if his heart were being raked by burning claws. He had to say something, but his vision blurred, and his heart pounded so loudly that his ears throbbed.

 

I like you.

 

The man’s confession from that night echoed in his ears. He’d never dared to desire him or to expect his feelings to be returned. He couldn’t even imagine it. But after experiencing it once, returning to his previous world seemed impossible. He felt lost in the dark.

 

“…I’ll give it back to you.”

 

Peter murmured, keeping his head down. Then he opened his closet and took out a neatly hung jacket.

 

“What’s this?”

 

There was no way Philip didn’t know. Yet he only glared at Peter without moving a finger.

 

“The jacket you lent me back then.”

 

Philip took the jacket and stood in silence before suddenly laughing.

 

“Hahaha.”

 

After laughing for a while, he ran a hand through his rain-drenched hair.

 

“Damn, this is really f****d up. Do you have any idea how much…”

 

Seeing the fear flash in Peter’s wide eyes, Philip bit down on his lower lip as if to suppress his rising emotions. Then he tore the jacket and threw it aside.

 

“This time, throw it away.”

 

“…”

 

He opened the window and disappeared with a leap.

 

At last, tears spilled from Peter’s eyes. Giving back the jacket was a blatantly unkind move. But seeing it torn to shreds left him feeling wretched.

 

He should have asked if Philip was okay. Apologizing would have been the right thing to do. And yet, he didn’t want to. A shockingly clear selfishness and desire flared up inside him.

 

He wanted Philip to kiss no one else but him. He wanted Philip to like only him, to look only at him, just as he did.

 

If he’d known he would fall this deeply, he wouldn’t have started… would never have held hands with him, hugged him, kissed him…

 

Tears streamed from Peter’s big eyes. He raised his arm to wipe them away with his sleeve. As he did, a book fell from his bag’s unzipped compartment. He bent down to pick it up and found a notebook with his name on it.

 

The elegant handwriting filled the white pages.

 

‘Don’t worry. I came in quietly.’

 

The soaking wet clothes. The absence of the loud engine sound from his sports car.

 

Peter went downstairs.