MBL 3

I’ve heard and read stories about people like that. For a brief moment, I even seriously pondered how someone could feel such sexual urges toward another man, but since I couldn’t imagine it, my pondering turned into a question and gradually faded from memory.

“Hey, can’t you guys do it properly?!”

At the gym teacher’s shout, Seokju and I halfheartedly played badminton.

The shuttlecock with its feathered skirt flew back and forth between Seokju and me with a ping, soaring up and darting from one side to the other.

Heo Kyungmin’s subtle hand gesture and sly tone as he tapped my shoulder while waiting in front of Seongyu’s classroom.

It felt like bugs were crawling on my back, making it itch. I squirmed my upper body. The shuttlecock I failed to hit fell far away. Seokju, dragging his slippers as he went to pick up the ball, approached me as I stood there, dazed and lost in thought.

“Im Juho, that guy didn’t show up again. Hey, you didn’t happen to see those two together, did you? Are they in the classroom right now?”

“…Is that for real?”

“You’re just slow on the news, but the whole school knows. Heo Kyungmin, that guy, secretly enjoys it too. Didn’t you know he sometimes acts like he’s marking Im Juho as his own? Who’d drool over a guy like Im Juho? He’s out there putting on a whole arrogant show by himself.”

“…….”

“It’s a weird combo, isn’t it? The nerd who messes around school-wide and the delinquent the whole school’s given up on. Weird.”

Seokju expressed his disgust with his entire body, shuddering as if he’d touched filth dripping from a food waste bag.

I couldn’t suppress my own discomfort either. Their image was so vividly drawn in my mind. Wanting to shake off the image that had taken over my head, I gathered the saliva in my mouth like Seokju did and spat it onto the ground with a ptooey!

The discomfort diluted slightly, but my brow was still faintly furrowed.

“Ugh… what even is that? It’s gross.”

From school to cram school, then from cram school back home.

After finishing what felt like an endless race, I returned home just past eleven o’clock.

Ever since witnessing Heo Kyungmin and Im Juho, and hearing from Seokju that they were dating, my thoughts had been elsewhere, as if I were in a daze, and I couldn’t focus on studying.

No matter how much I wanted to cut it off, the repulsive feeling wouldn’t go away and kept lingering. Even the cram school’s comprehensive review session before the mock exam didn’t register in my ears.

It’s someone else’s private life. Heo Kyungmin isn’t clinging to me, so I could just dismiss it as seeing something disgusting and dirty and be done with it.

It was strange. It was as if my subconscious had been obsessively dwelling on a problem, and my conscious mind had finally become aware of it—something filthy kept lingering in my head like residue, refusing to come off. No matter how much I tried to shake it off, my thoughts wouldn’t organize, and the discomfort only grew.

The strong arm wrapping around Im Juho’s waist.

Ugh, stop.

I shook my head, trying not to think about it.

It was late, but my father and Mrs. Yoon were still awake, waiting for me.

They were sitting on the sofa, halfheartedly watching a current affairs program on TV.

“I’m back.”

“Yeah, good work staying out late. Eat something before you go up. Don’t go straight to bed—study at least one more page.”

My father nagged without taking his eyes off the TV in response to my greeting.

I put down my bag and sat on the sofa. Mrs. Yoon brought out a late-night snack she had prepared and placed it on the living room table.

“I’ll eat well.”

“It’s late, so chew thoroughly for good digestion.”

When our eyes met, Mrs. Yoon gave a gentle smile.

Mrs. Yoon, who had been my father’s secretary for over ten years, had a kind of armed politeness ingrained in her.

At first, she felt strange to deal with, like an airline flight attendant, but I’d grown used to her standardized smile, and it didn’t feel particularly foreign anymore, except when I consciously noticed it. It must be uncomfortable for Mrs. Yoon to play the role of a mother she’d never been, and she probably had her own struggles.

I forced down a snack I didn’t even want to eat. The voice of the current affairs program host echoed through the quiet living room.

I was strangely obedient when it came to my father. Even when he brought Mrs. Yoon into our family, I didn’t resist or even say I didn’t like it.

To him, no matter what I did, I was less than hyung. Knowing I didn’t meet my father’s expectations, I wanted to be a child he could approve of in some way. It wasn’t that I was afraid of falling behind hyung, but that I was terrified of seeming so inferior that I couldn’t even be considered his brother.

We came from the same womb, so why was I so much worse than hyung?

Hyung turned his hobby of playing the guitar into performance-level skill, attended a good university, brought his girlfriend to his studio to have sex, and lived a cool life enjoying everything.

Meanwhile, my grades were average, I might not get into college, I didn’t have a girlfriend, and I was too busy refusing girls who asked for my contact information.

Mrs. Yoon was looking at me with pity as I sat there, exhausted but forcing myself to stay.

“You must be tired from studying so much. Want aunt to drive you to cram school?”

“No, it’s fine.”

When cram school ended, cars lined up in front of the building, waiting to pick up their kids. On bad days, I’d wished someone would come get me, but rather than awkwardly riding home alone with Mrs. Yoon, I’d prefer to go home alone, even if I was tired. If it was really tough, I could just take a taxi.

“Indulge him a little. Being too soft on kids isn’t good for them.”

“When have you ever indulged him? It’s okay to cut him some slack sometimes.”

“Joonyoung, are you really struggling?”

“I never said I was struggling.”

My father, who had been bickering with Mrs. Yoon, asked me. I shook my head.

“See? He says he’s not struggling.”

“When you ask him like that, do you think he’d admit it?”

“Anyway, this year is your only shot. If not this year, you won’t get another chance. Got it?”

“Yes.”

My father’s nagging always made sense. I answered obediently.

Mrs. Yoon hurriedly corrected my father, saying he was being too extreme and that I shouldn’t feel pressured because opportunities would come again.

Then she subtly brought up hyung.

“He’s late, as always.”

“…Who?”

My father responded absently to her offhand remark, almost as if he hadn’t heard. At the same time, a crisp sound came as he bit into a chilled pear.

“Who else but your eldest? He’s always late. It’s already past midnight. He didn’t even come home the day before yesterday.”

“Don’t worry about that guy.”

“How can I not worry? He’s not a nobody.”

“The eldest slipped out of my grasp a long time ago. He’s grown and acts like he’s on par with his father. If you nag him about being late, it’ll just make things worse. Don’t say anything.”

His speech mixed formal and informal tones appropriately.

My father wasn’t indifferent to hyung; he just understood hyung’s nature well. If he knew hyung so well, why did he threaten to send me to my grandfather in America if hyung didn’t quit music?

Hyung probably wouldn’t care if I went to America or Busan.

It wasn’t that hyung got a secret studio to keep making music so I wouldn’t be sent to America. He was just pretending to quit because he was tired of arguing and fighting with our father.

I looked at my father with curiosity as he made a threat that wouldn’t even work on hyung. He stared at the TV with an expressionless face. Mrs. Yoon pouted slightly, as if upset that he didn’t understand her feelings.

Hyung had no interest in Mrs. Yoon. To him, she wasn’t a stepmother or family—just our father’s woman.

My father pretended not to notice Mrs. Yoon’s anxious desire to control hyung, who was hard to manage, in order to become a proud member of our family.

“Still, even if he’s grown, it doesn’t look good for him to be out so much.”

“I told you, he’s not the type to listen to nagging.”

Mrs. Yoon held out a neatly cut piece of fruit to me, as if she wanted to confirm that I listened to her and was under her control.

I was staring blankly and took the fruit she offered without thinking.

“Joonyoung doesn’t act like that. He’s so different from Joonwon.”

She gave me a look seeking agreement as I ate the fruit.

“You just don’t know our kids well yet. Both the older and younger ones are smart. They know going astray will only hurt them…”

As he spoke, my father glanced at me. I chewed the fruit crunchily, looking uninterested in their conversation.

The atmosphere at home was always quiet. In truth, the dynamic between my father and his two sons hadn’t changed much before or after his remarriage.

The only one who benefited from living with Mrs. Yoon was my father. That said, we didn’t actively reject her presence either. It was just awkward. It would be stranger to instantly adapt to someone we’d never thought of in that way suddenly becoming our mother.

My father was capable, and it had been a long time since our mother passed away. He’d faced heavy pressure to remarry since we were young, but because hyung was so responsible and took good care of me, a mother’s presence wasn’t really necessary. If raising us had been too hard for my father, someone other than Mrs. Yoon might be sitting here now.

Anyway, his business was stable now, and he couldn’t keep working himself to death forever. Even if we didn’t need it, my father needed a partner.

We weren’t young or foolish enough to stubbornly reject a stepmother over that fact. Hyung and I neither pushed Mrs. Yoon away nor fully accepted her.

Our real mother died in a car accident when I was young.

I don’t know about hyung, but I had almost no memories of her. I didn’t feel an aching longing for a mother’s love either. It was more accurate to say I had no sense of what a mother was. If I tried to recall that feeling, what came to mind wasn’t the face of my mother, preserved only in photos, but the face of hyung, who held me and cried all night when I was sick.

I looked at my father and Mrs. Yoon while eating the fruit.

A man and his woman.

A man and a woman.

I imagined hyung’s girlfriend. My thoughts branched out and kept spreading.

Hyung’s masturbation, which I’d spied on while hiding under the desk. The shameful act of a not-yet-fully-grown man that had seemed repulsive. The condom discarded on the studio floor, the condom stretched over his swollen member for contraception, hyung’s naked back as he embraced some nameless woman. His sweat-soaked, writhing spine.

Mrs. Yoon looked at me with concern when I shook my head.

It seemed my belated puberty was finally starting. All my thoughts were fixated in that direction.

It was because of Seokju. No, because of Heo Kyungmin and Im Juho.

No, actually, it was because of hyung.

It was because of hyung, who brought his girlfriend to the studio to do weird things. I saw something unnecessary. It was natural for hyung to have a girlfriend, but it sparked a repulsive shudder, like touching a reptile.

My thoughts were a mess.

I put down the fruit I was eating. My throat felt clogged with dry sand. The water I hurriedly drank got stuck in my throat. I coughed harshly, hacking and wheezing.

“Are you okay?”

“Cough, cough, yeah, I’m fine.”

I barely managed to respond to Mrs. Yoon’s question, coughing again.

I was tired. A desperate urge to lie in bed and rest surged within me. Just imagining hyung like that brought on a wave of mental exhaustion.

“I’m going upstairs. Good night.”

With a flushed face, I said goodbye to my father and Mrs. Yoon and headed up the stairs to the second floor.

I could hear Mrs. Yoon muttering. Before I was fully out of sight, her words were directed not at my father but at me.

“These kids don’t act like kids. They don’t feel like my kids. They’re too much like you, Director, and I just can’t connect with them.”

“How long are you going to keep calling me Director? I haven’t been a Director in ages.”

There was a hint of amused disbelief in my father’s voice.

“Yes, CEO. Your kids are too cold. I’ve never seen them say more than two words to me.”

“A woman who’s never had kids talking about ‘her kids.’ They’re not your kids. Let’s call it like it is.”

“Are you going to keep doing this? If this is how it’s going to be, why did you ask me to live together? If we’d lived separately from the start, I wouldn’t have to deal with this awkwardness. I haven’t done anything wrong, but I keep feeling like I have to watch the kids’ reactions.”

“That’s just your inferiority complex. Who in this house is making you feel that way?”

“Joonyoung and Joonwon are all grown up.”

“Joonyoung’s a senior in high school. You want to kick a high school senior out to live on his own? Be reasonable. And bringing in a new woman and immediately kicking the kids out—that’s not what a father does, is it?”

He asked, incredulous, if she was trying to make him out to be some kind of scoundrel.

“How am I supposed to keep living like this when it’s so uncomfortable?”

“Then treat it like you’re dealing with a difficult boss. That’s your specialty, isn’t it?”

“…….”

I hid in the shadow of the staircase landing, eavesdropping on their conversation. I could vividly imagine Mrs. Yoon’s sulky expression during her silence.

My father was blunt and sharp-tongued, but he didn’t use that tone with Mrs. Yoon. It seemed he enjoyed teasing her.

When a man likes a woman, it seems he teases her, gently provokes her, tests her reactions, and chuckles at her responses—that’s how it goes.

What does it feel like to like a woman?

I thought of the college unnie who asked for my phone number at the PC bang. Seokju elbowed me hard, urging me to give it to her, but it just felt annoying.

I also thought of the girl from the neighboring school I saw on the bus a few days ago. Her uniform skirt was hiked up above her knees, revealing pale thighs, but because she was tall and slender, it didn’t look provocative. She had a hair roller in her bangs. When our eyes met, she quickly removed the roller and tousled her hair.

Her fine, smooth hair unraveling softly was, as others said, pretty.

But that was it.

Everyone said she was pretty, that she was an idol trainee, but thinking of her didn’t make my heart race. Nor did thinking of a guy make my heart race, for that matter.

“Then I’ll just call you that at home too. You’re the CEO, he’s the Manager, and the one who hasn’t come home yet is the Director.”

“It’s awkward. Did you think they’d call you Mom? They’re not at an age to just start saying ‘Mom’ so easily. It’ll get easier with time. This year, with the Manager’s college entrance exams, let’s keep things quiet. Mrs. Yoon, let’s keep it quiet.”

My father soothed Mrs. Yoon, who was grumbling, telling her to let it go.

“Give me some face in front of the kids. I feel useless and out of place in this house. If you’re not on my side, who will be?”

“Alright, just be good to me. That’s enough.”

“Ugh, really.”

Her sulky voice rang out, followed by a smack, the sound of her hitting my father’s arm or back. He laughed heartily, even as she hit him.

Mrs. Yoon wasn’t saying those things out of concern for hyung or me. Just as I felt uncomfortable, she probably felt uncomfortable with us, and no matter how much she tried, our awkward attitudes made her efforts feel unrewarding and unappreciated. So she wanted to establish some authority in front of us, who didn’t openly defy my father.

I let out a hollow laugh as I closed my bedroom door.

I was about to take off my uniform when I heard a sound. The heavy footsteps slowly coming down the hallway weren’t my father’s—they were hyung’s.

I pictured hyung’s movements in my mind as I changed clothes. He was passing my room. I quickly opened the door. Hyung, who had been casually passing by, stopped abruptly.

“You’re just getting home? It’s pretty late.”

“…What are you doing up?”

“I just got back too. Father said to study at least one more page before bed, so I was going to shower and study a bit before sleeping.”

Hyung’s eyes briefly scanned the uniform shirt in my hand and my bare upper body before looking away. He didn’t particularly like making eye contact with me.

“Just do the bare minimum and go to sleep. It’s late. Good night.”

“Yeah, hyung too…”

He walked to his room at the end of the hallway. I looked at his retreating figure with regret before closing the door.

“Hyung… good night, hyung.”

I wished we could’ve talked a bit more…

Since that day, I hadn’t had much chance to talk with hyung, and it felt disappointing.

I showered and changed into pajamas. Even though I hadn’t studied and only got ready for bed, it was already past midnight.

I lay in bed, pointlessly scrolling through my phone, tossing and turning. When I came back from cram school, I was so tired I wanted to collapse and sleep, but now that I was trying to sleep, I couldn’t.

As I tossed and turned, I heard a sound from hyung’s room. It seemed he had just finished showering and gone into his room.

I was playing a game on my phone when I sat up, looking disheveled.

“…Ugh, I shouldn’t have had coffee earlier.”

I checked the clock on the wall. As time passed, my mind didn’t clear—it only grew more troubled.

I got out of bed to warm some milk. The hallway, lit only by dim lights, had a faint smell of cigarettes. It was hyung’s scent.

“Hyung’s still up, huh.”

I hesitated for a moment before heading to his room. If he was asleep, I’d just leave, so I opened the door quietly without knocking.

He was lying on his bed, wearing only briefs, smoking a cigarette. A thin wisp of smoke curled from the cigarette between his lips.

Startled by my sudden appearance, he jerked his head up. At the same time, cigarette ash fell onto his bare chest.

Hyung hurriedly got up and grabbed clothes to put on. Without even brushing off the ash on his chest, he pulled a shirt over his head.

“…….”

I froze, still holding the doorknob.

What was that just now…?

Did I see it wrong?

In that fleeting glimpse of his half-naked body, I saw it was covered in ugly scars.

One of his eyebrows was completely distorted, and he openly showed displeasure and hostility toward the uninvited guest. Even after realizing it was me, he didn’t change his angry expression.

Overwhelmed by his fierce demeanor telling me to get out, I scolded him without thinking.

“The smell’s getting out. How can you smoke in your room? Father said something last time about the cigarette smell in your room. Don’t smoke in here.”

He adjusted the clothes he’d hurriedly put on and opened the window. The faint cigarette smell drifted out with the breeze.

“What’s with you? Don’t you know how to knock?”

He asked sharply.

“…What was that?”

“What.”

“Hyung’s body…”

“What about my body?”

“It looked like there were scars…”

“What scars? Can you even see anything in the dark?”

“…….”

As hyung said, the room was dark, but the outdoor lights from the garden spilled through the large window, casting enough dim light that it wasn’t necessary to turn on a lamp.

Was he getting into fights or something?

No matter how much his personality had changed, he was inherently someone who disliked arguing or conflicting with others. I couldn’t imagine him fighting to the death with anyone. If that were true, he wouldn’t be the hyung I knew anymore.

The hyung I knew no longer existed anywhere.

Calling his girlfriend to the studio to do all sorts of things, fighting outside. It wasn’t Heo Kyungmin who’d become a gangster—it was hyung. I wanted to ask what on earth he was doing out there.

“Stop talking nonsense and go to bed.”

“…….”

He put the cigarette in his mouth and inhaled deeply, his cheeks hollowing. Leaning out the window to exhale the smoke, his expression was calm. There was no trace of embarrassment at having his scars discovered.

I must have seen it wrong.

It didn’t make sense for him to be fighting, but more than that, the idea of so many scars on a person’s body—on my hyung—was absurd.

It was such a fleeting moment that I didn’t see clearly, and it could have been a trick of the shadows.

The dim light and the lush leaves of the large maple tree by hyung’s window cast shadows on his smooth skin, creating an illusion.

Even now, the leaves dangling in clusters swayed in the breeze, flickering over his bed.

“Don’t smoke in your room. What if the smell lingers? Father will get mad if he finds out.”

“I opened the window.”

“Mrs. Yoon sometimes cleans your room, you know.”

“I told her not to come in here.”

“When did you say that?”

“The day that woman moved into this house.”

Hyung replied nonchalantly.

“I should’ve told her not to come in either… I couldn’t bring myself to say it.”

“If you don’t like it, tell her tomorrow. Mrs. Yoon isn’t the type to make a fuss over something like that.”

“That’s true, but she’s been a bit sensitive lately, so it’s hard to say anything.”

“She’s probably finding it tough, being a mom for the first time.”

Mrs. Yoon, who used to be a secretary and frequented our house, was still called Mrs. Yoon by hyung, not stepmother or aunt. In the past, he’d always politely called her Mrs. Yoon whether she was around or not, but now he often referred to her as “that woman” and treated her like she was invisible.

“Can’t you talk to her for me, hyung?”

“Are you an idiot? You can’t even say that?”

“If even I don’t listen to Mrs. Yoon… she’ll feel hurt.”

At my words, a faint smile flickered across hyung’s lips before disappearing.

“Alright. I’ll talk to her so she doesn’t feel hurt. Now go to bed.”

His pants, with the zipper still undone, loosely covered his lower body. His bare feet peeked out from under the dark navy hem. The color of his pants made his feet stand out strikingly white.

Unconsciously, I stared at the contrast between his dark pants and his pale feet.

What kind of person was hyung’s girlfriend?

People passing by would glance at him, and hyung had a captivating appearance. Both he and I inherited our mother’s dark chestnut hair. His, in particular, was glossy and lustrous.

The charm that overflowed from the tips of his hair down his entire body had been igniting the hearts of rational people since his school days.

With such a beautiful body, he probably loved women like our father did, embracing them at times.

“Joonyoung.”

“…….”

“Kang Joonyoung.”

“…Huh?”

My gaze, which had been fixed on his white feet, unconsciously traveled up his body, staring intently at his lower half. I hurriedly raised my head.

Our eyes met. He pulled up the zipper he hadn’t fully closed in his rush to dress. His expression seemed to ask what I was looking at. I awkwardly averted my gaze.

He and I were born from the same mother’s womb. Yet, my heart pounded as if I’d intruded on a stranger’s private life and seen their naked body.

It felt like he’d caught the dirty thoughts running through my head.

“Do you have something to say?”

“No, no. I just couldn’t sleep, and it seemed like you were still up. That’s all.”

“…….”

“There was something I wanted to talk about… but it’s nothing.”

Staring at my hyung’s lower body like that—what kind of brother was I?

Feeling like I had nowhere to hide, I lowered my head as if I could burrow into the floor, letting my words trail off.

“What is it?”

Hyung asked in a low voice, urging me to speak.

“It’s nothing.”

“It’s fine, just tell me.”

He wasn’t asking because he was embarrassed that I’d caught him staring at his lower body; he seemed to think I was hesitating for some other reason and asked seriously.

“No, I’ll tell you later. It’s late… you should sleep, hyung.”

“It’s fine, just say it. Sit here.”

Hyung grabbed my arm and made me sit on his bed. I said I was fine but sat down as he directed.

He pulled out the desk chair, sat down, and looked at me intently, as if telling me to speak properly if I had something to say.

I’d been feeling unsettled all day, and now that hyung was willing to listen, I suddenly felt an urge to pour everything out to him.

He was my blood, and I felt like hyung would understand why I’d been so uncomfortable and uneasy all day, picking up on even the smallest clues and giving me clear answers.

“Does that woman ever mistreat you?”

“What?”

“Mrs. Yoon.”

He was unusually serious.

“Does Mrs. Yoon treat you badly when Father’s not around?”

“Mistreat me how? Like pinching me when Father’s not looking?”

“…….”

His tightly furrowed brows finally relaxed.

“I’m disappointed your imagination’s so limited, hyung.”

“Then what is it? Why do you look so troubled?”

“It’s got nothing to do with Mrs. Yoon. She’s nice to me.”

“Then what? Your grades have always been mediocre. That’s nothing new.”

“…Is that something you say to a high school senior?”

I was dumbfounded.

I’d been led to sit by his hand, and now I lay down on hyung’s bed. He was someone I relied on and liked more than our father.

How much I’d missed moments like this with him.

Lying on his bed, resting my head on his pillow, breathing in the fresh scent of his just-washed body, it felt like we’d gone back to the days years ago when our bond was warm. Back to the time before his growing pains began.

Hyung didn’t rush me and just looked at me quietly. His expression showed he understood the struggles and worries of a high school senior.

Looking at his handsome face made my heart feel refreshed. Just having him show me a little attention made the discomfort that had followed me all day seem to evaporate into white mist.

“When you came home, were Father and Mrs. Yoon in the living room together?”

Hyung nodded.

“Did Father say anything? Did Mrs. Yoon say anything?”

His right eyebrow arched slightly, questioning my intent.

Talking about Mrs. Yoon with hyung was, surprisingly, a first. He’d been so indifferent to me. It would’ve been more comforting to say we weren’t brothers.

I rubbed my cheek against his pillow. Lying on my side, I looked straight at him. My words came out in an eager, secretive tone.

“She told Father she feels uncomfortable living with us. That we probably feel uncomfortable too, and she’d rather live separately.”

He didn’t add any opinion. He seemed completely uninterested. It also felt like he was relieved to confirm I wasn’t being mistreated.

“She was complaining about you coming home late. I think Mrs. Yoon wants to control тыся

System: have control over you.”

“…….”

He remained silent, his expression unreadable.

“Hyung, can I go to your band’s performance this weekend? I’ll just watch for a bit and head straight to cram school to study.”

Nothing made me happier than saying “my hyung.” Nothing made me prouder, nothing more fulfilling.

Lying on hyung’s bed, talking with him, I forgot my exhaustion. The day’s accumulated fatigue melted away, and the tension eased. The sleep I’d been chasing all day finally came rushing in.

“I’ll really just watch the performance and go study. I think it’ll help me do better.”

He looked at my half-closed eyes, stood up from the chair, and sat on the edge of the bed where I lay. His large hand stroked my hair.

His pants, with the buckle undone, parted slightly, revealing a glimpse of his hip.

I stared blankly at his broad chest, abdomen, the distinct outline of his obliques under his clothes, and the faint trail below his navel.

“By the way… hyung, do you know about this?”

“…….”

Instead of answering, he continued stroking my hair. His large fingers ran through my hair with a pleasant firmness.

The intense sensation of his touch made my half-open eyes flutter shut. My heart beat faintly. A pleasant sense of exhilaration enveloped me.

“There’s this kid at school who’s really good at studying, better than me.”

“…….”

“One’s the top student in the school, and the other’s a delinquent even the principal gave up on.”

“…….”

“…And they say they’re sleeping together? What’s that called? Homo or something… It’s gross, isn’t it?”

“…….”

“Hm?”

Sleep weighed heavily on my eyes. I barely opened them to look up at him. I couldn’t tell what expression he was making, what emotions or thoughts he had. My mind felt like it was sinking into the sea.

“They kiss and… they even have sex, they say.”

His hand stopped stroking me.

I moved my cheek to his thigh, urging him to keep going, grabbing his hand to touch my cheek and hair. His warm, hesitant palm brushed my skin with a dry, warm sensation.

“Hyung… you’ve done it, right?”

“…….”

“That… sex.”

“…….”

“It’s gross, I hate it.”

I mumbled something, but I couldn’t tell what I said, my consciousness fading. Like embers burning out, my awareness flickered and crumbled.

“Don’t do that kind of thing…”

I fell asleep.

All I knew was the warmth of his large hand lingering on my cheek.

∞ ∞ ∞

I didn’t get a reply when I said I’d go to his performance, but I boldly decided to skip cram school. To avoid any calls to Father or Mrs. Yoon, I called the cram school and lied about having a cold.

I hid casual clothes in my bag from the morning, changed in the subway bathroom right after school, and headed straight to Hongdae with a meticulous plan.

By Friday evening, the club where hyung’s band regularly performed was already packed. I navigated the crowded entrance and went down the basement stairs.

Loud music enveloped me. It felt like stepping into another world.

I approached a bartender who knew hyung and gave a light nod in greeting.

“Hey, about my hyung—”

My voice was drowned out by the blaring speakers, barely reaching her.

“My hyung! Kang Joonwon! Do you know him?! Do you know where he is right now?”

The bartender caught the louder words, grabbed my arm, and pulled me close to speak in my ear.

“The performance got canceled tonight. The vocalist is a mess.”

Her finger pointed to a spot.

Hyung’s friend from last time was slouched on a sofa, face flushed, laughing hysterically.

She made a hand gesture I couldn’t quite understand—probably meaning he was drunk or out of it.

Filled with excitement to see hyung’s performance, I felt a bitter anger. I glared pointlessly at his drunk friend and left.

I wandered Hongdae’s alleys past ten at night, searching for hyung’s studio. I kept calling his phone, but no answer.

Meanwhile, I got over five calls from Mrs. Yoon. I ignored them, but when Father called, I had no choice but to pick up.

Even as I answered, I wondered why I couldn’t defy Father. I felt pathetic.

“…Yes.”

—Kang Joonyoung, where are you? You skipped cram school. Where are you?

“Here… Seoul.”

I almost said Hongdae but said Seoul instead, worried it might get hyung in trouble. I heard a sharp intake of breath over the phone.

—Yeah, of course, Seoul. Where in Seoul?

“Central… no, the west side.”

—What are you doing, skipping cram school and wandering around west Seoul?

“I’m hanging out with friends.”

This time, I heard a suppressed, angry breath.

—Hanging out with friends? Doing what? Are you drunk?

“Yeah, I drank a little. Just drinking and hanging out.”

As a minor, I bluntly told Father I was drinking and fooling around.

—Hah…

He let out a dumbfounded, exasperated sigh. It was a lie, but my bluntness made him believe I was being honest.

—Why didn’t you answer aunt’s calls?

“Sorry. I didn’t want to.”

It seemed Father was calling not out of worry but because of Mrs. Yoon’s insistence.

“You’re just going to nag me anyway, so I don’t have anything to say.”

I answered honestly. My defiance wasn’t loud. I had no intention of challenging his authority.

—Even if you’ve got nothing to say, at least let us know you’re alive. Don’t you know people worry when you don’t answer?

“Can I just text you I’m alive?”

—Yeah, do that. If you say you’re out rebelling, your stepmother won’t worry.

“I’ll text next time.”

—Don’t stay out too late and take a taxi home.

“Okay.”

He said alright and hung up. No orders to come home early or nagging about overdoing it.

Stunned by the abrupt end to the call, I started walking, then stopped with an “ah” and looked around.

It was an alley I’d passed through with hyung. I finally remembered the way and walked confidently toward his studio.

The old building where his studio was located came into view. I quickened my pace.

As I stepped down the stairs, the studio door opened, and a dark figure burst out. Startled, I grabbed the railing and froze.

“…….”

It was Im Juho.

A completely unexpected face in a completely unexpected place.

I panicked, silenced my footsteps, climbed back up the stairs, and hid behind a parked car. Im Juho didn’t see me, standing casually in the alley. Soon, another figure followed him up.

It was Kang Joonwon. My hyung.

Im Juho had been waiting for hyung.

As hyung emerged, Im Juho started walking. Hyung, with a cigarette glowing in his hand, walked beside him.

I crouched behind the car, my shoulders hunched, my heart pounding like it would burst.

As they passed me, hidden in the dark, I covered my mouth and nose with my hand to muffle my heavy breathing.

I gripped my breath until their figures disappeared around the corner of the alley.

∞ ∞ ∞

Monday morning was the worst. I spent the whole weekend holed up in my room. Hyung didn’t come home at all.

I hadn’t slept a wink, my bloodshot eyes glaring at the back of Im Juho’s head.

If I could, I’d grab him by the neck and shake him. I had no reason to be hurt or confront him, but it felt like I should, and the urge kept surging.