Sungmin's POV
I just got back from meeting Eomma; the light in the doorway blinked on as soon as I stepped in. I placed my bag on the shoe rack, losing my tie and taking off my shoes. It's so quiet, unlike at my mother's house.
I walked to the bedroom and collapsed on the bed, totally exhausted from the long day, traveling there and back to the office again for the emergency meeting, while having a quiet argument with Eomma about, of course, the usual types like not visiting often enough, not taking care of myself, and all.
Then, back at the office, the exhausting meeting about how the company is getting bad reviews for its products and still hasn't found the chef. The whole time, Junwoo stayed quiet, taking all the bashes but finally spoke up to defend us and our hard work.
It's a whole roller coaster.
If and only if I had just stayed quiet, not spoken about Joohwan's restaurant that day, maybe I would have managed to at least pull Joohwan into the offer, but well, we all got wasted by his single NO.
How could he just say no to an offer from a company like ours? I mean, our products are widely known and have hit the market. The chefs have higher pay than us and it's widely known, and he still chose to refuse.
"Who even says no to that?"
I rolled on the bed in frustration. I have been trying so hard to understand his decision. I mean, it's up to him, but still…
yawn
Anyway, I am not in the mood to think about it all and stay all night. I rolled to the other side again, my eye drooping from exhaustion.
.
.
.
I woke up with a loud gasp, my heart pounding hard in my chest, my throat dried out. I looked around and realized I was still on my own bed. A dream, the same dream again… that felt so real. My trembling hand ran through my hair.
The sweat on my skin cooled down as I tried to push the thoughts of the nightmare far from my mind.
Why does he always appear in my dreams, and I can never save him?
I turned my head, my gaze falling on the digital clock that was blinking 11:00 pm. I knew I wouldn't be able to fall asleep again. So, I decided to go out for a walk.
When I looked down, I was still in my office clothes. I shook my head and walked towards the closet to change into something comfortable. I wondered how I even managed to sleep in these clothes.
I picked up my phone and some cash just in case I wanted to grab anything. I locked the door and walked out into the cool night. The light pollution filled the sky with a soft glow that made it difficult to see the stars. I took a deep breath as I started to walk.
As I walked down the street, the traffic was no less than usual, but the cars' sounds faded away as I immersed myself in walking through the soft, cool breeze. I finally walked into Pocha Street, the smell of spicy food wafting through the air, which melted into my mouth, and having them with soju.
My stomach growled at the thought.
So, I walked into one of the pojangmachas (tent bars). The place is quite rushed with people laughing and chatting, glasses clinking together in cheers. I stood there, my heart dropping in disappointment as the place was filled.
"Excuse me, will you move?"
I looked at the person; he is quite taller than I am, what do you eat, bro? was the question I couldn't ask, like, if you look at this man, he would crush you with his biceps. So I gave a quick nod, moving to the side, and that's when I noticed a familiar figure sitting alone in this packed pocha.
The chair across from him is empty, and no one sits there.
And I couldn't believe my eyes; out of all places, I met him again. And worse, I had such a bad dream of him again just a few hours ago. And now, he was sitting right in front of me.
And he still looked so unbothered and unaware of his surroundings, just like at the bridge. The noise of the pocha seemed unable to reach him. His gaze stayed fixed on the empty chair across from him, the untouched space looking strangely deliberate.
He looked lonely.
"Joohwan-ssi."
I managed to catch his attention, and he looked up; his blank eyes slowly focused on my face, and that's all that happened now. I could see him sighing too many times to count, and then he reached for the bottle; I quickly grabbed it and poured the last part of the liquid into his glass.
As I poured soju and leaned back, he didn't pick up the glass but stared at me, which was quite unreadable, which made my smile falter. All I can feel is that he is annoyed by my presence, and I also know why; of course, it would be about the offer.
I sighed, putting the empty bottle down on the table, closing my eyes, and gathering my words; I mumbled, "I'm sorry." he said nothing but stared at me, so I continued, "about that sudden offer."
He picked up the glass, swallowing the last one. "Is that what you came here for?"
I looked at him for a blink of a second. What was he even thinking? Is he thinking I'm following him or something?
I laughed at how he was thinking of me.
"First of all, I didn't expect to see you here. I was back from meeting my mother and meeting at my office and got drained and did my best to sleep, but..." I stopped myself before I could say that I had a dream of him at the bridge, but this time I couldn't save him. I cut those thoughts and said, "Anyway, I couldn't sleep, so here I am."
He scoffed and shook his head, and for some reason, that bothered me more than if he had just ignored me.
"What?" I asked.
"Nothing."
It was definitely nothing. I stared at him for a second before looking away. The pocha was loud around us, people laughing and calling for more drinks, but our table felt strangely quiet.
"You don't believe me?"
He let out a dry chuckle. "Should I?"
I opened my mouth, then closed it again. Fair point, though. If I were him, I probably wouldn't believe me either. I rubbed the back of my neck.
"You really think I followed you?" I asked not to be able to contain those words in my head.
"You keep appearing wherever I am."
I blinked at hearing the flat answer. Then, despite myself, a laugh cracked out. So I am right that he thinks of me, that I keep following him. As if he were someone I know or remember? like he was someone who was too close to someone we both know, yet I couldn't remember him? I mean, I can't, though I have a good memory; for some reason, I don't know it.
And now he's thinking of me like a crazy stalker.
"Why are you laughing?" he asked.
The question made me laugh to slow down. I looked at him for a moment before shaking my head.
"Nothing"
His face flattened immediately, and he said, "Then stop laughing."
That only made the corner of my mouth twitch. Seriously, how could someone look this offended over a laugh? I cleared my throat and leaned back slightly.
"Sorry. It's just…" I paused, thinking of what to come up with.
What was I supposed to say? Sorry, I laughed because you think I am following you around. That would definitely make him more annoyed.
"…It's just funny."
His eyes narrowed, and he let out another heavy sigh. "What is?"
I pointed between us. "This."
"What about this?"
I sighed, keeping my elbows on the table, folding them. "We've met, like what, three times now?"
"And you gave me an offer just in between those two meetings?"
I blinked again, then let out another laugh. This man is really unbelievable.
"See?" he muttered.
"What?"
"You are laughing again."
I pressed my lips together immediately, swallowing my laugh. "Okay, okay, I'll stop, but it's your talent that pulled you into this offer, not me," I said, biting my inner cheek.
He looked away first. Then Silence returned. I glanced at the empty bottle between us. So I thought of ordering another bottle.
"Should we order another one?" I suggested it first before going with the order.
"No."
The answer came so fast that it almost made me laugh again. Almost. Instead, I looked at him carefully. His eyes looked tired. Not sleepy but achy, like someone who had been carrying something heavy for too long and forgot what it felt like to put it down.
I looked away before he caught me staring. Now I feel like a fool at this point, while the person who is carrying heavy things and is alone quietly, and I unknowingly invaded his space, laughing and smiling.
Thankfully, the ajeossi passed by our table and I quickly ordered some tteokbokki before Joohwan could refuse. By the time he realized what I had done, the order was already on its way. His eyebrows twitched.
"You ordered food."
"You've been drinking on an empty stomach."
"How do you know?"
I pointed at the untouched side dishes on the table. His gaze followed mine. Then he clicked his tongue. Annoyed again. And now I was beginning to think that was his natural state. The thought almost made me smile again, almost. But I didn't because now that I was sitting this close, I could see it.
The redness around his eyes. The way his finger tightened around the glass whenever he drifted into thoughts, there is something he is holding onto, or the way he kept glancing at me when he thought I wasn't looking. As if I were occupying a seat that belonged to someone else.
For some reason, I wanted to know what it is that's bothering him, though it's not my place to learn.
The food arrived a few minutes later. The steam curled into the air between us. Neither of us touched it immediately. Then, to my surprise, Joohwan picked up his chopsticks first. A small victory smile sat on my lips and vanished before I could notice. I grabbed mine too.
For a while, the only sounds between us were the clicking chopsticks and the chatter of the crowd around us, and strangely enough, it wasn't uncomfortable. Not entirely. It felt like sitting beside a stray cat that had finally stopped hissing long enough to eat.
I nearly laughed at the comparison.
"What?" Joohwan narrowed his eyes at me.
Apparently, I had smiled without realizing.
"Nothing." I shook my head innocently.
He looked unconvinced. I looked down at my food. Because there was no way I was telling him I had just compared him to a stary cat.
After a few bottles, Joohwan started losing his balance, so I had to rush over and grab his shoulders to keep him from falling.
"I can balance myself." He said, quite sharply, as he pulled away from my grip very immediately.
My hand froze for a moment. There is a cold sharpness in tone that he doesn't like being helped with. I hesitantly moved back, but looking at him, he must have reached the limit now, and the time is already past midnight; I can't just leave him here.
Then a thought crossed my mind. I pulled up my phone, scrolled to find the person who could be quite helpful right now, and gave him a ring as soon as I found his number. I know I shouldn't disturb, but I couldn't help myself.
"Hello, hyung? What's the matter?" Minjae's sleepy voice came through the line, which made my heart quite guilty.
Then I glanced at Joohwan, who had now leaned his head completely on the table, so I pushed my guilt aside.
"Minjae-ah, do you by any chance have Taekwang-ssi's number?"
I can hear a slight rustle from the other side before he replies, "Of course I do; he's my…best friend, after all."
I sighed in relief. I do know they are best friends, and they will have each other's numbers. It's just that calling someone in the middle of the night to pick up his hyung wasn't exactly how I imagined spending my evening.
"Why do you suddenly need Taekwang's number, hyung?" Minjae asked, his voice sounding a little more awake now.
My eye drifted toward Joohwan again; he's still leaning over the table, one arm folded beneath his head. His eyes weren't exactly open either. Even now and then, his brows would knit together slightly, like even resting wasn't easy for him.
"Joohwan-ssi is drunk," I answered honestly.
There was a pause.
Then another
And then…
"…why are you with him, hyung?"
I was quite caught off guard by his question, but it was a good question, though. A very expectable and very good question.
"I met him here by coincidence," I said it because I couldn't explain the whole thing as if we had time.
There is another silence on the line that almost made me think the line ended.
Then again…
"Hyung."
"Mm?"
"I don't believe you."
I first let out a breath and then a helpless laugh. Like, what do these guys think of me? I am a stalker or someone crazy who just follows around a chef who rejected our proposal, like it's not me in the first place who gave him the offer; it's that brat, and still it's all on me.
"Well, neither does he," I replied, not being able to argue, rubbing my finger over my temple.
Minjae groaned from the other side. "Just wait. I'll send you Taekwang's number and address."
For the first time in my life, I was impressed by Minjae for his thinking.
A few seconds later, my phone vibrated with Taekwang's number and address with a message.
Park Minjae (team leader)—I have already informed him that you can drop him off at the address.
I stared at the message dumbfoundedly. I mean, yes, I was grateful for his thought of sending an address, but how can I go with a drunken man who just pushed me away like I'm some rat?
Wait, seriously? Am I calling myself a rat? ew…
"Yoonsuh-ya…I'm…so…sorr…y…hyun…can't…sa…ve..u" he slurred, his words dissolving into a soft, frustrated sigh against the flat surface of the table.
I lowered my phone, staring at the top of Joohwan's head. His shoulder trembled slightly under his jacket, his finger twitching against his folded arm as if he were trying to reach for something or someone in his sleep.
"...n't...sa...u..." he breathed out again, the syllables barely escaping his lips. "Yoon…suh-ya…"
My finger tightened around my phone. "Yoonsuh?" the name repeated on my tongue as I stared at Joohwan. What happened to him? Why is he talking about him now?
I leaned in a fraction closer, my heart doing a strange, uncomfortable flip. It was one thing that I had already heard: that there was an accident that Yoonsuh hyung got in, and I couldn't get the full story, and this man is now mumbling his name. What could have happened?
"J-Joohwan-ssi," I said softly, reaching out and carefully tapping his shoulder. "Hey. Wake up. We have to go."
He didn't move. He just let out a low, ragged moan, his brow furrowing deeper into a painful knot. I looked around the tent. The ajeossi behind the counter was busy scrubbing down the grill, deliberately looking anywhere but at our table.
The message from Minjae was still glowing on my screen, a literal map to a problem I hadn't asked to solve. Drop him at the address, what the fuck? As if Joohwan were a package and not a drunken man.
I took a deep breath. Well, I have to take responsibility because I was the one who ordered again. I leaned back, bracing my feet, and wrapped Joohwan's arm over my neck. When I hauled him upward, he groaned heavily, his shoes dragging against the plastic floor of the tent before he found some semblance of balance. He's dead weight, his forehead slumping into the crook of my neck directly, his hot, soju-laced breath fanning against my skin.
"…cold…" he mumbled, his voice muffled by my shirt. "…the piano…'s too cold…"
"Yeah, well, it's quite cooler than the sunny day we had, so keep moving," I grunted, placing the cash on the table for the ajeossi. The old man gave me a look that was half sympathy and half amusement.
"Good luck," he said.
I had a feeling I was going to need it.
Joohwan's full weight leaned against me as I dragged him out of the tent. The moment the cool night hit us, he winced and buried his face deeper into my shoulder.
"…too loud…"
"The street?" I asked and looked around, where there was not even a single leaf making a noise.
He didn't answer. I shook my head and walked down the street to find any taxi that was quite available right now because I can't risk my back carrying him to the address, and it'll be more work if I do so. Finding an empty taxi at this hour proved to be its own nightmare.
The street was dead silent, the yellow glare of the streetlamps stretching out conjoined shadows into long, awkward shapes against the asphalt. Every time a car drove past with its red light off, I wanted to kick the tires.
"Come on," I muttered, hiking Joohwan up higher on my shoulder as his sneakers scuffed against the curb. "Out of all the nights for Seoul drivers to actually go home early."
I stuck my free hand out as a silver sedan finally rounded the corner, its red empty sign glowing like a beacon of absolute mercy. The taxi pulled over with a soft screech of brakes. I managed to open the rear door with one foot, twisting my torso to Joohwan, and onto the seat first.
He tumbled like a sack of flour, his head immediately hitting the opposite with a dull thud. He didn't even wince, just curled his knees towards his chest and dragged a ragged breath through his nose.
I slid in right after him, pulling the door shut.
"Where to?" The driver asked, glancing at us through the rearview mirror with the tired, judgmental eyes of a man who had seen too many drunk twenty-somethings on Tuesday night.
I read out the address Minjae had texted me.
The driver clicked his tongue, shifted into drive, and pulled back into the empty street.
"…The fire…" he whispered, "…it's…rising… Yoonsuh-ah…"
I froze, my eyes going wide before turning to the driver to see if he was listening. But the old man was staring ahead at the dark road, completely checked out.
The three words kept repeating in my head again and again. I looked down at Joohwan. His head rolled against the window. The passing streetlights painted pale streaks across his face, catching the exhaustion carved behind his eyes. Up close, he looked younger somehow. Less sharp. Less annoyed…but tired.
I wonder what really happened to Yoonsuh. Why is Joohwan like this?
What exactly happened?