BHB 23

“Do you have any idea how many times I called you?”

Do Youngjae grumbled, interrogating like a jealous lover.

“If someone doesn’t answer, you should just assume they’re busy. Why did you keep calling?”

“Oh, you jerk. I know you’ve got it easy, but can’t you at least pretend to feel bad about ignoring your friend’s calls?”

“Sorry.”

“You don’t sound sorry at all.”

“Want me to buy you food?”

“You think money solves everything?”

“Drinks, then?”

Youngjae’s resolve wavered. “…Fine, but this doesn’t let you off the hook. You can’t just ghost people like that.”

He continued grumbling until class started, but the promise of free food and drinks had clearly softened his mood. Just as the professor entered and silence fell, the back door burst open. Lee Taegang strode in, unapologetically late and seemingly unconcerned by the stares of his classmates.

Taegang took his seat behind Yeowon. Though he couldn’t see him, he felt his gaze burning into the back of his head. The tension was palpable. Suddenly, his chair jolted – Taegang had kicked it. Yeowon bit his tongue, barely restraining himself from whirling around to confront him.

The chair shook again, more violently this time. The loud thud made Youngjae glance back, his eyes wide with concern.

“What’s going on?” he whispered, wary of drawing the professor’s attention.

Taegang’s icy reply cut through the air: “Mind your own business.”

His curt tone was practically a signature. Youngjae, though visibly annoyed, knew better than to challenge him. Despite his impressive physique, even compared to the athletes, only one person could truly stand up to Taegang.

When the chair jerked a third time, Yeowon snapped. He sprang to his feet, grabbed his bag, and stormed out of the classroom. His sudden action drew the attention of the lecturing professor and the attentive students, but Yeowon didn’t care.

Yeowon strode down the hallway after leaving the classroom. It was still early morning, and being lecture time, the corridor was quiet with few people around. His only thought was to get outside quickly to cool the heat rising to his head, but he was soon caught. 

A ruthless grip, a strength that Han Yeowon couldn’t easily overcome, grabbed his arm. Only after being pushed against a wall in some unknown space did Yeowon come face to face with the person who had dragged him there.

“How long are you going to keep this up?” Taegang demanded.

It had been days since he’d properly looked at him. Despite his fury, a surge of conflicting emotions welled up inside him. His heart raced, and he felt a familiar ache in his chest.

Is this what they call unconditional affection? he wondered bitterly. The old saying was true – no matter how much you hate someone, once you care for them, there is no escape. 

But Yeowon wasn’t one to be easily swayed by sentiment. If he were, he wouldn’t have been angry with Taegang for so long.

“I think you’ve got it wrong,” he retorted, his voice cold and controlled. “I wasn’t pretending not to know – I was ignoring you.”

Taegang’s expression didn’t waver. He seemed almost expectant, as if Yeowon’s sharp tongue was a comfort in its familiarity.

“Fine. How long are you going to keep ignoring me, then?”

“Until you get on your knees and beg for forgiveness.”

“Don’t be so proud.”

“Look who’s talking. You’re not in any position to sulk.”

Unlike others, Yeowon wasn’t afraid of Taegang. His towering physique, the tattoos snaking across his skin, his intimidating aura – none of it fazed him. Was it their shared history? No, there was something deeper at play.

A subconscious belief that no matter how angry Taegang got, he would never truly hurt him.

The knowledge that he alone could speak to him this way, hurl such barbed words without consequence. It was a strange kind of power, one that had given him a sense of superiority others couldn’t understand. But now he realized how hollow that feeling was. That supposed superiority and trust were built on quicksand. Because Taegang had never truly let him in.

Not about Jeon Chaemin, not about his relationships with men, not about why he had kissed him.

Stripping away the tangle of emotions, what remained was raw betrayal.

“What did I do that was so wrong?” Taegang asked, a hint of genuine confusion in his voice.

“…Are you seriously asking that?”

“Is it because I kissed you?”

“You son of a-“

“Or because I tried to fuck you?”

“Are you out of your mind?”

“Yeah, maybe I am.”

“…Hah.”

“I’m crazy, aren’t I?”

Yeowon massaged his temples, suddenly exhausted. Instead of lashing out further, he let out a weary sigh.

“Forget it. I don’t even want to talk to you. Just go.”

He gestured dismissively, disgust etched across his features. But Taegang stood his ground, unmovable as a mountain.

“Was it really that bad?” he pressed.

“What?”

“Me kissing you.”

“Are you really-“

“Bad enough to avoid me for days, to change your door code…”

“…”

“Was it that fucking awful?”

For a moment, Taegang’s fierce facade cracked, revealing a glimpse of vulnerability. Yeowon’s expression mirrored his, but only for a heartbeat. He clenched his jaw, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper.

“Is any man good enough for you?”

“…”

“Even a friend you’ve known for decades, someone who’s like family – you’d do that to them too?”

“Family?”

Taegang let out a harsh, incredulous laugh. 

“Family? What the fuck… Hey, since when are we family?”

Yeowon felt as if he’d been struck. He had never realized it before, had never seen the chasm between his perception and reality. He was the only one who had felt that bond.

Like family, like a brother – he alone had thought they were special.

A bitter smile twisted Yeowon’s lips, his laughter hollow and defeated.

“…You’re right. We’re not family. So why the hell did I ever think of you that way?”

“Cut the crap, Yeowon.”

“Sure thing, asshole.”

Yeowon shoved past him, his hand closing around the doorknob. If he stayed a moment longer, he feared he might do something he’d regret.

“So, did you sleep with him?”

The sudden question froze him in place.

“…What?”

“I asked if you slept with him.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“Were you so pissed at me that you and Jeon Chaemin-“

Before he could finish, Yeowon’s hand shot out, grabbing Taegang by the collar. His insinuation was so base, so far removed from reality, that it made his blood boil anew.

“You fucking bastard,” he snarled, trembling with rage. “Have you lost your mind?”

Taegang allowed himself to be manhandled, his gaze steady on Yeowon’s face. Yeowon’s grip tightened, his knuckles white with fury.

“How dare you-!”

“That’s why I told you not to let just anyone into your house.”

“What’s it to you? Is it your house? You lecture me about not lecturing you, and here you are, preaching.”

The more he thought about it, the more absurd it seemed. Yeowon let out a cold laugh and continued.

“I’m sorry, but unlike you, I don’t do that kind of shit with other guys who have dicks. No, I can’t. Just because you roll around filthily with those who have holes doesn’t mean I’m the same.”

Restraining himself from lashing out physically, Yeowon released his collar with a shove and stormed out. He didn’t look back, didn’t slow his pace until he was far from the building, lost in unfamiliar streets. His fists were clenched so tightly that his nails had broken skin, leaving crescent-shaped marks on his palms.

He walked aimlessly, unseeing, until a car horn jolted him back to reality. Standing on an unknown corner, Yeowon stared at his injured hand, feeling completely unmoored. Everything felt surreal – the sting in his palm, the unfamiliar pavement beneath his feet, the confrontation that now seemed like a bad dream. For a long moment, Yeowon remained rooted to that spot, adrift in a sea of confusion and hurt.

***

It wasn’t until Youngjae’s call that Yeowon snapped back to the present. His mother had prepared side dishes for him to take home. Unable to refuse such unexpected kindness, Yeowon agreed and made his way to Youngjae’s place, grateful for the distraction.

Though he had met Youngjae’s mother only once, the gesture touched him deeply. Having rarely experienced such parental care, it stirred a warmth he wasn’t quite used to.

Youngjae’s home was the largest villa in the area, not new but well-maintained. The neighborhood boasted renovated buildings and new constructions, with most modern amenities. Despite having only a few floors, the building even had an elevator – a luxury Yeowon wasn’t accustomed to.

“Please tell her I’m grateful,” Yeowon said, eyeing the bag full of side dish containers with a mix of appreciation and slight embarrassment.

Youngjae waved off his concern. “Mom always cooks too much. She’s just sharing the extras.”

Youngjae’s parents were out at a gathering, which disappointed Yeowon. He had hoped to thank them in person. As they descended to the first floor, Youngjae, dressed casually, kept pace with him, clearly wanting to say more but unsure how to broach the subject of his earlier outburst.