HMN C34

Chapter 34

Creak.

The restroom was half a floor above the bar. Daeyoung pushed open the gray, paint-chipped metal door. The faintly sour smell typical of public restrooms greeted him, along with a mirror plastered with cheap, curling advertisements.

Drip.

“Ugh… my face…”

His reflection was bright red, like a boiled radish. He had definitely drunk too much. He turned on the tap and rinsed his hands with cold water.

“Phew…”

He exhaled a long breath. Calm down. No need to get worked up. Go Chiwoo had always been rude, and that guy—he was just drunk. That was all. He repeated the thought to himself, breathing deeply until his chest expanded with the effort.

Creak.

The ugly whine of the metal hinges returned. The person who stepped in was the same guy who’d been sitting across from him earlier—face just as flushed red as his own. He couldn’t quite recall, but the guy had mentioned something about retaking college exams—maybe for the third or fourth time. Either way, they were around the same age.

The already cramped bathroom seemed to grow even tighter, heavy with awkward air. Still, Daeyoung managed an uneasy smile. The other man gave him a brief glance, pulled out a cigarette, and stuck it between his lips as he walked to the urinal.

Even this old restroom had a “No Smoking” sticker slapped on the wall—several of them, actually, one even handwritten with “Don’t smoke after drinking.” Daeyoung, still lathering soap in his hands, hesitated before speaking.

“Hey, it’s no smoking in here.”

He tried to keep his tone light. But Park Hyundong—if he remembered right—only exhaled sharply, a long sigh hissing out of him. He didn’t reply, didn’t even look up, just kept smoking.

That same hostility from earlier radiated now even from his back. Deciding not to engage, Daeyoung turned on the faucet again, rinsing his hands quickly. The cold water made him want to press his palms against his burning cheeks.

“So fucking funny.”

The sudden mutter made him look up. The guy was fastening his pants, the cigarette still hanging from his mouth. His words came muffled through smoke. He inhaled, exhaled, and sneered.

“You’re such an obvious act. Can’t believe those girls actually fall for it.”

“……”

He was drunk—clearly. The folds of his double eyelids drooped heavily.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Daeyoung forced his eyes away, rinsing off the remaining soap. A dry laugh echoed behind him. Tap. He could feel the man’s unsteady presence move closer.

“Bet the guys in the club all hate your guts.”

His hands froze under the running water, then resumed, turning off the tap with a faint squeak.

“You’re drunk and saying nonsense. I’m leaving.”

His throat felt tight, like something was lodged there. He knew it was just drunken rambling, not worth a reaction—not worth remembering. Just let it slide. He reached for the door handle.

“Ha. Knew it. I’ve got a real knack for spotting losers.”

“……”

“I’ve hated you since the day you enrolled.”

The words hit his back, followed by a snide laugh that brushed against the nape of his neck.

Creeeak.

That same grating sound of the hinges again—he’d lost count of how many times now. He focused only on that, quickening his steps out of the restroom. His heartbeat pounded so loudly it thudded beneath his ears.

‘I’ve hated you since the day you enrolled.’

Whose enrollment did he mean—his or mine? Either way, it made no sense. Where would he have seen me? He was certain they’d never met. Maybe… maybe he’d gone to the same high school without Daeyoung realizing it.

“……”

Apparently, there were some rules in life that never changed. He didn’t know what joke the heavens were trying to play on him, but he’d have to look up and ask what their problem was on the way home.

That thought came the instant he stepped out—and found Go Chiwoo walking toward the restroom.

“……”

Their eyes met—again. Chiwoo’s lips parted, like he meant to say something, but before he could, Daeyoung turned his head away.

He knew the bar was half a floor below, but instead of heading back down, he chose to climb upward. Two steps at a time, his feet carried him higher.

The floor above was a shuttered bar, long closed. The sign’s lights were off, leaving only the dim green glow of the emergency exit to wash over the stairwell. Daeyoung bent his knees and sat down.

“Haa…”

He just needed a moment. A bit of time to calm down. He was drunk enough as it was; sitting here might help him sober up.

Tap.

The sound of footsteps climbing made his muscles tense. If it was a club member, he could laugh it off, say he’d just needed air. But if it was that guy—

‘Hey, are you Ahn Daeyoung’s boyfriend or something?’

Back in high school, that was what kids used to say to anyone who so much as talked to him. There was always one boy—the ringleader—who would throw those lines around whenever Daeyoung spoke to someone. He was popular, well-connected, and cruel enough to make the others avoid Daeyoung altogether.

‘Who’d bother hanging out with that loser?’

Stop. Don’t think about it. Even as he told himself so, his chest hammered painfully. What if that guy followed me? What would I do? His thoughts tangled with nausea.

“Ah.”

The moment he looked up at the figure on the stairs, his bottom lip jutted out, trembling with irritation.

“Shit…”

Go Chiwoo had stopped a few steps below. Daeyoung’s eyes filled with defiance, his emotions roiling, loosening from restraint. Whether it was the alcohol or the long buildup of frustration, his chest swelled with a mix of anger and humiliation.

“……”

“Hey. Go Chiwoo.”

The lump in his throat finally broke loose into words.

“Why the hell do you always talk like that?”

If he thought about it, the one who’d really unsettled him all night wasn’t Chiwoo but that drunk bastard. But the words were already out; he couldn’t take them back.

“‘Control yourself’? What did I ever do to you, huh? Did I ever ask you to take me home, or—what, annoy you somehow?”

Honestly, Daeyoung could barely see. His vision was swimming, blurred with tears. He didn’t even know what kind of face Chiwoo was making.

Rustle.

He rolled up his pants, revealing the red scrapes on both knees, then held out his palms.

“When I fell like this, you were there, right? You pretended to help me, then laughed. And when I got rejected—you were there then too! But that wasn’t my fault, was it?”

There was no real reason to roll up his pants now, but the old indignation poured out with his words. His voice trembled, pitifully unsteady. He yanked his sleeves down again and scrubbed at his wet eyelashes. Only then did Chiwoo’s face come into focus—standing silently a few steps below, looking up at him.

“……”

“Why do you always act like I’m some kind of joke to you?”

The sound that came from across the steps was half sigh, half scoff—he couldn’t tell. It was childish, he knew that. The kind of exchange that belonged in kindergarten—I don’t like you! / Well, I don’t like you either! But still, saying it out loud made the weight in his chest ease slightly. His shoulders slumped as he let out a shaky breath.

“Ha…”

“Did your brain melt or something?”

Chiwoo’s voice came softly from above—too quiet to make out at first.

“What?”

“Are you done crying yet?”

Even now, when asked why he was being such an ass, he only replied like that. Daeyoung had half a mind to actually kick him in the shin if he said one more rude thing. But the flippant tone was so unexpectedly mild that his anger fizzled, leaving only awkwardness.

He blinked blearily into the air, then gave a small, reluctant nod.

“……”

“Then get down. I’ll take you home.”

Strange. It should’ve sounded mocking, condescending—but it didn’t. No smugness, no laughter, just simple words. Somehow, that alone steadied him. He exhaled again.

“What, you’d rather go back inside? Listen to that idiot’s crap a while longer?”

He shook his head immediately. He’d had enough—of alcohol, of everything. He just wanted to go home.

“So you’re not a masochist, at least.”

With that dry remark, he swallowed hard, stood, and brushed off the chill from the concrete step.

“…My phone’s inside.”

“I’ve got it. Just start walking.”

Good thing he hadn’t taken off his coat. Taking his phone from Chiwoo, he slipped it into his pocket and made his way down the stairs, his footsteps heavy and uneven, echoing with quiet irritation.

Outside, a couple of club members were smoking a few meters away, their laughter faint. That was all.

Tap, tap.

They walked in silence through the dark alley. The night air cooled his burning cheeks, and only his occasional sniffle broke the quiet. Chiwoo trailed two steps behind him, matching his pace whenever Daeyoung stumbled or missed a step.

“……”

“……”

Why was he still following him? The thought only occurred once they reached the neighborhood near his building—but it passed quickly. His focus was spent just keeping his balance. He glanced back once, then climbed the villa stairs.

“Hey.”

It wasn’t until he reached his door that Chiwoo called out. Daeyoung turned, frowning. Maybe it was the alcohol, but the other man’s expression looked—off. Not angry, exactly. Just… unreadable. And Go Chiwoo never looked unreadable.

“Do you act like this every time you drink?”

“What…?”

The question was so sudden it barely made sense.

“Every time? You grope whoever’s sitting next to you and start crying?”

“What are you—”

Daeyoung gripped the doorknob tightly. Chiwoo’s voice seemed to vibrate in the air, low and resonant. His thoughts had long since blurred; he could hardly even recall what he’d said earlier, or what had even happened. His eyes blinked slow and hazy as he waved a hand weakly—whether to dismiss him or just out of confusion, even he didn’t know.

He stumbled inside. Whump, whump. His sneakers flipped off, scattering near the shoe cabinet.

Thud.

The door shut behind him.

“When you sober up, call me.”

Beep.

The electronic lock clicked as the door sealed. After a few clumsy attempts, Daeyoung finally kicked off his shoes and collapsed where he stood. His body curled in on itself, sinking fast into the pull of sleep.

The world spun gently, like he was lying inside a tambourine being turned in slow circles.