HMN C49

Chapter 49

The table where Go Chiwoo sat was filled with the so-called core members of the film club—Minhye and her inner circle. To be honest, they were more of a “talk and drink” bunch than actual cinephiles. Even at the last meeting, they’d spent more time gossiping than discussing film theory.

Since Chiwoo usually sat alone or only with Minhye, his sudden choice to join them made the atmosphere buzz. One of Sungrae’s friends leaned forward, curious.

“Senior, did you watch the movie? I didn’t see you in the theater earlier.”

“Yeah. With Daeyoung.”

The movement of a glass froze midair.

Daeyoung? Not Ahn Daeyoung—just Daeyoung?

He wasn’t the only one who noticed. Both Sungrae and Wonjung’s heads snapped around, eyes wide. Daeyoung wanted to punch someone.

“Oh really? What did you think?”

The only person unbothered was the one asking. They clearly had no idea what kind of dynamic existed between the two.

Chiwoo reached for a nearby empty glass, filled it halfway, and replied with his usual calm.

“Can’t remember much. My mind was all over the place.”

“Wow! Daeyoung-sunbae said the exact same thing earlier.”

“Did he? Guess we’re in sync.”

“That’s so cool…”

A fleeting glance from Chiwoo met Daeyoung’s eyes before he looked away again. Daeyoung gulped down the soju that had been sitting at his lips, forcing an awkward smile.

“So… when did you two get close?”

That question came from Sungrae—the sharp one, always reading the room.

“Oh, uh—we take the same electives and work part-time together. Kinda natural we’d get closer, right?”

Daeyoung jumped in before Chiwoo could answer. He couldn’t risk him blurting something like “Ever since I fell for him.”

And technically, what he’d said wasn’t wrong. Their relationship had changed; once, he’d found Chiwoo unbearable—smug, insufferable—but lately they’d settled into something almost friendly. At the café, Chiwoo often helped him with the tougher tasks, sometimes even doing things outside his own duties.

Of course, that was all thanks to hypnosis.

“Ah, sunbae, you’re spilling your drink.”

“Ah—sorry, sorry.”

The table grew lively again. To keep the energy from dipping, Daeyoung had kept drinking, and now even breathing made him smell faintly of alcohol.

Clink.

“I’m just gonna take a break…”

Wonjung could drink endlessly, and so could Sungrae and his friend—their tolerance was legendary. With this crowd, one weak liver meant nothing. Daeyoung waved his hand weakly.

“Okay! But only after one more shot.”

The guy’s grin was wickedly playful, brows raised.

“You’re strict, huh? Fine.”

Daeyoung chuckled and lifted his glass, but before it even touched his lips, another hand pulled it smoothly away.

“Uh—what the—”

“Stop feeding him. Can’t you tell he’s drunk?”

The voice cut through the noise like a blade.

Everyone turned. Chiwoo downed the entire glass himself, his tone sharp but his movements smooth.

There was a brief silence—then a low ripple of ohhs around the table.

He’d just called someone “kid.” Go Chiwoo, of all people, had referred to someone as “kid.” And he’d done it while taking care of them.

The club members—half-drunk and entirely entertained—were in awe. The high, aloof Chiwoo, drinking and joking with them? Dopamine rush. Instant legend.

“Ohh, what a knight! So, Chiwoo-sunbae’s drinking for him now?”

The friend grinned, clearly not drunk enough yet to stop provoking.

Tap, tap.

“I’ll take that. Let me handle it.”

This time, it wasn’t Chiwoo who answered—it was Wonjung. He knocked lightly on the table, then lifted his half-full glass and emptied it in one go before setting it back down.

Laughter and cheers exploded.

Daeyoung opened his mouth to joke, “What, you guys making this a duel now?” but Chiwoo spoke first, voice low and edged.

“I don’t remember inviting you to.”

“What’s that supposed to mean? Seems like it’s not your spot anymore.”

The shift was immediate—like a current snapping taut.

Go Chiwoo, who had never once cared for social cues, met Wonjung’s challenge head-on. The air grew heavy.

Was it a joke? Was it serious? Everyone sensed the tension but pretended to laugh it off, glancing between the two.

Daeyoung let out a long sigh. This was insane. Chiwoo being like this was nothing new—but Wonjung rising to meet him? That was new.

Scrape.

“Alright, great. You two can drink together all you want. I’m—”

“Where are you going?”

He’d barely stood up, mumbling about the bathroom, when both his wrists were seized—one by each man.

“I’m going to the bathroom. What, one of you gonna come unzip me too?”

The words came out sharp, meant as a joke to defuse the tension—but it was crude, absurd, exactly the kind of line meant to get a ‘You’re disgusting!’ in return. Normally, Haegyeom would’ve said it and laughed. But Haegyeom wasn’t here.

“……”

“……”

And that silence—that awful silence—made everything worse.

Both men stared at him, unmoving. No laughter, no scolding.

Chiwoo’s eyes even gleamed a little, which made Daeyoung recoil and yank his hands free.

“I really have to go!”

With that, he stormed off.

The heavy door swung shut behind him. He rubbed at the back of his flushed neck as he made his way toward the restroom down a steep concrete stairwell.

Thud.

“What the hell is wrong with them…”

Sure, Wonjung had always been the type to look out for others—but Chiwoo? This was not like him. Anyone watching would think something weird was going on.

And that last joke—what if Chiwoo had nodded? The thought alone sent a shiver down his spine.

But then another thought slipped in—half-formed, hazy from alcohol.

If two guys actually… did it…

No. No, no, no.

Smack!

“Get it together, Ahn Daeyoung!”

He slapped his own cheek hard enough to sting.

Why the hell am I even thinking about this?

He glared at his reflection in the mirror. This was all Chiwoo’s fault. The man was relentless—blurring boundaries, saying ridiculous things, moving too close—and it was getting under his skin.

He scrubbed his hands under cold water, hoping the chill would sober him up.

Creak.

As he pushed open the restroom door, someone was waiting.

Go Chiwoo.

He looked him up and down, slowly.

“Jesus—”

Daeyoung flinched. He shouldn’t have been surprised anymore, but somehow Chiwoo always managed to show up right where he was.

“You gonna use the restroom too?”

“No.”

Then, with a tilt of his chin, Chiwoo motioned toward the steep stairs.

“What.”

“When you’re drunk, you either trip or sit on the stairs and cry.”

“…Are you mocking me right now?”

He stared, but Chiwoo’s face remained calm, neutral. Not teasing—just stating a fact.

“So you really followed me out of concern?”

“Yeah.”

The blunt sincerity caught him off guard. He had nothing to say to that. Instead, he rubbed his cold hands together, shaking them out before heading down the steps. Their footsteps echoed together.

“Let’s get one thing straight,” Daeyoung muttered. “I don’t fall that often. You just happen to be there every single time. Believe it or not, it’s true.”

It sounded ridiculous even to his own ears, but he needed to say it.

As he reached the bottom of the stairs, he paused, turning back.

“Chiwoo, how drunk are you?”

“Not much.”

He looked it too—no glassiness in his eyes, no flushed cheeks.

“You got your wallet?”

“Card.”

“Good. Come with me.”

He lowered his voice like a spy passing classified information, glancing toward the bar before motioning discreetly. Chiwoo followed without question as Daeyoung tugged him toward the street corner.

A few steps later, they slipped into a small café.

The warm aroma of roasted beans enveloped them immediately.

“Welcome!”

“One hot grapefruit tea,” Daeyoung said briskly. “What do you want?”

Chiwoo watched the crown of his head as he tapped the touchscreen confidently, then selected something similar for himself—a hot citrus blend.

By the time Daeyoung turned around, he was already striding to the nearest couch, collapsing into it with a sigh. Chiwoo glanced at him for a long moment before stepping up to the counter.

A few minutes later, two steaming mugs appeared on the pickup tray.

Daeyoung looked pleased, wrapping his hands around the warm ceramic, but Chiwoo’s sharp eyes never quite softened. Even with the scent of tea in the air, there was a quiet, restless tension sitting between them.