Chapter 22
by Gideon“What?”
The voice, cutting through the silence, sent a sharp jolt through my heart. Taemo was leaning back against the headboard, arms crossed. Though his head was tilted slightly down, his voice betrayed no hint of drowsiness.
“Oh… You weren’t asleep?”
“I was.”
“Uh…”
I trailed off, my mind blank. I’d never even considered the possibility that he was awake, and the shock left me rooted to the spot, my hand still gripping the doorknob. Taemo slowly raised his head. A faint sliver of light from the living room fell across his face, revealing his features with startling clarity. There wasn’t a trace of sleep in his eyes. He really hadn’t been asleep at all.
“What are you just standing there for?”
His tone was as curt and dismissive as ever, yet it seemed laced with an unusual weariness. The beer Juhyeon had guzzled down had left her mouth feeling raw, but her mind was gradually clearing.
“…If you can’t sleep, do you want to watch a movie with me?”
So, this completely unplanned invitation was something I said while stone-cold sober. She was surprised by her own boldness.
“You’re a real handful, you know that?”
Though he grumbled, he threw back the covers as if he’d been waiting for her to ask. He stepped out of bed and left the bedroom, pausing beside Juhyeon, who was still standing stiffly by the door. He leaned in close, his head nearly touching hers.
“Just how much did you drink?”
The murmur brushed right against Juhyeon’s ear, making him flinch. Without even glancing at him, Taemo turned and strode back into the living room, as if he’d been waiting for Juhyeon to ask him to watch the movie. Or perhaps Taemo had also needed someone to share this sleepless dawn with. A strange sense of kinship stirred within Juhyeon.
He turned up the volume. Now, he could hear the crunch of snow beneath the protagonist’s feet and the rustle of a blanket being pulled up over a shoulder. The terrifying thoughts that had filled his mind just moments ago were gone, replaced by a surprising sense of security from having someone else nearby.
“Care for a drink?”
I cracked open a can of beer and handed it to him, but he didn’t even glance at it.
“You drink it.”
“Yes, sir.”
Come to think of it, he smoked all the time, but I’d never seen him drink. So why did he keep the fridge stocked? I tilted my head, puzzled by the contradiction, and took a sip of my beer.
For someone who’d been dragged out here, he was surprisingly focused on the movie. He sat perfectly still, one arm draped across the back of the sofa. Juhyeon sat on the floor, munching on potato chips and stealing glances at him. The height difference between the sofa and the floor was significant, so she figured he wouldn’t be able to see her. She tried to be discreet, pretending to chew her chips while only moving her eyes, but he caught her immediately.
“If you’re going to keep staring, pay up. Or just say what you want to say.”
Juhyeon flinched, but since Taemo had opened the door, he couldn’t let the opportunity slip. Clutching the bag of snacks to his chest, he crawled onto the sofa, settling at a distance where his shoulder might just brush the fingertips of Taemo’s outstretched hand.
“It’s not like I have anything specific to say…”
“Then stop staring.”
“There is one thing I’m curious about, though…”
Juhyeon trailed off, turning his body fully toward Taemo. The man’s gaze, which had been fixed on the movie the whole time, slowly shifted. Finally, their eyes met on the same level. Taemo’s slow blink seemed to be a signal for him to continue.
“You know, Hyungnim, I can’t sleep when I see blood. I used to hang out with gangsters, but they never actually fought to the point of making a bloodbath.”
“But…”
“Anyway, that’s why I’m still awake. Are you unable to sleep because you’re thinking about it, too?”
Of course, how many people could actually sleep soundly after killing someone? But it was also true that Taemo seemed like the type who wouldn’t be swayed by such things.
“…”
Taemo kept his lips pressed firmly shut, offering no reaction. Anyone else would have taken the hint and backed off by now, but Juhyeon leaned in closer, continuing his line of questioning.
“Or do you just have trouble sleeping in general? Like insomnia?”
Taemo’s dark eyes fixed on Juhyeon once more. His gaze was fierce, yet devoid of any real murderous intent—instead, it held a mixture of annoyance and curiosity. Those deep, dark eyes always made Juhyeon’s heart race with fear, only to put him at ease moments later.
“I’ve known a lot of people with insomnia,” Juhyeon said. “They say medication helps. Have you tried seeing a doctor?”
“…”
“Maybe it’s because you’re training too hard? Or you could try drinking some tea. You should probably cut back on the smoking, too.”
He was rattling off the kind of nagging he’d only ever do to his closest friends. Despite his appearance, Juhyeon was actually quite attentive to the people around him. Jaeseon had once drunkenly let slip that it was “just affection starvation,” but Juhyeon simply chose to believe it was his fierce loyalty.
Perhaps it was because she’d grown closer to Taemo, but Juhyeon found herself nagging him just as she would her friends. Taemo listened to her pointless rambling in silence, his expression unreadable. He didn’t seem angry, but there was a strange awkwardness about him. As a result, Juhyeon’s one-sided chatter gradually trailed off into an embarrassed silence.
“Anyway… I was just curious. You should go to the hospital. I’ve heard that if you put it off because you’re too lazy, it ends up costing dozens of times more in the end.”
“I just can’t sleep.”
He dismissed her long lecture with a single sentence. Who just “can’t sleep” by nature? But she couldn’t argue any further. The gaze that had been meeting hers so indulgently just moments ago had completely vanished. She had to take the hint.
“If you can’t sleep again, come out to the living room. We can watch a movie together.”
“…”
The silence that followed made Juhyeon feel like he’d just acted as if he owned the place. He added an awkward laugh and turned away.
“Well, it’s not my place, obviously. But I can still watch it with you?”
“Do I have to pay you an hourly rate to watch a movie with you?”
“If you’re paying, I’m all ears. I’ll make it even more entertaining for you.”
Taemo let out a dry laugh, and a surprisingly soft smile appeared on his usually intimidating face. He actually smiled quite a lot. When Juhyeon first ran into him in the neighborhood, he’d seemed so cold that he couldn’t even imagine him smiling. But now, he found himself frequently seeing the corners of Taemo’s lips relax into a smile—even if most of them were just smirks.
“How?”
Taemo’s lips, still curved in a smile, parted as he asked. Juhyeon, who had been staring at those lips without even blinking, responded a beat late.
“Pardon?”
“You said you’d make it fun. How exactly are you going to do that?”
Now that he was being asked, Juhyeon had no answer. He wasn’t particularly funny, nor was he the type to act the fool. While he was good at catering to his older friends, his peers always called him boring. No matter how much he thought back, he had nothing to brag about.
“…Um.”
The awkward silence prompted Juhyeon to reach into the bag of chips he was clutching. The only sound was the soft crinkle of the plastic.
“This is fucking bullshit.”
“Bullshit?”
Juhyeon asked, crunching on a potato chip. Taemo gave a short nod. For someone who had just cursed, his lips were pulled up in a wide grin. His dark eyes gleamed with genuine interest.
“I wondered what you were talking about when Kang-i mentioned it.”
“Kang-i? So you were talking about me behind my back?”
Hmm. Juhyeon let out a long breath and tilted his head defiantly. He tried to glare, hardening his expression, but even he knew he didn’t look threatening at all. Taemo, who had been watching him intently, suddenly reached out. His large hand brushed lightly against Juhyeon’s lips before pulling away. The touch was so fleeting that Juhyeon only flinched after the fact.
“You’re cute. Like a kid.”
The spot where Taemo’s fingers had touched burned as if seared by fire. A large hand settled on Juhyeon’s frozen head, patting it a few times with a gentle but firm weight. Juhyeon remained stiff as a board, while Taemo leaned in even closer, his face inches away as he studied Juhyeon’s features.
His dark eyes fixed on her with such intensity that her face flushed for no reason. They were so close that the slightest turn of her head would bring their noses together. At this distance, he could probably hear her swallow. Even the simplest actions—shifting her gaze, drawing a breath—felt awkward.
“So tense,” he murmured, his voice dripping with queasy confidence.
The low vibration of his words and the warmth of his breath against her ear were infuriatingly relaxed. The sheer maturity of his composure made Juhyeon scratch her chest in frustration. As she stared straight ahead, her posture stiff and unnatural, the hand that had been resting on the top of her head finally withdrew.
“Eat.”
He pulled his arm back and leaned against the sofa. The taut tension that had stretched between them snapped, leaving a sudden slackness in its wake. Should I move down from the sofa? No, that would make it too obvious how flustered I am. A thousand thoughts raced through her mind.
Juhyeon had missed her chance. Now, she was stuck, unable to move. Time slipped away. The bowl of potato chips remained untouched, and the beer had grown warm and flat. The movie was halfway through, the main character sobbing with her hand over her mouth. But Juhyeon couldn’t focus on any of it. Her entire attention was fixed on Taemo’s every movement, just inches away.
They had watched two movies in a row. Juhyeon held the remote, which meant she had been the one choosing. She had picked a film that looked so calm and boring from its thumbnail alone that it was practically a sleep aid. It was far from her own taste, but she’d chosen it for Taemo. She hoped it would help him fall asleep, even if just a little.
Juhyeon folded the empty potato chip bag into a neat little square and stacked the empty cans to one side. She’d had to hold her bladder for ages, only going to the bathroom when she absolutely had to.
By now, her eyes were starting to feel dry and gritty. She shifted her stiff body, about to stretch, when she froze mid-motion.
“…”
Taemo was leaning back against the sofa, arms crossed. He’d seemed to be watching the screen earlier, but now his eyes were closed. Was he asleep? Holding her breath, she reached for the blanket draped over the armrest.
Just as she extended her hand to cover him, Taemo’s eyes snapped open.
His movement was a blur as he seized her wrist. The grip was so tight it forced a silent scream from her open mouth. His sharp gaze, fixed on her, showed no trace of sleepiness.
“I thought you were asleep… You should go back in and get some rest.”
He didn’t respond, his gaze shifting between the blanket in Juhyeon’s hands and the wrist he’d been holding. Then, with a slight crinkle of one eye, he finally let go. Despite the sharp, tense lines of his face, his voice sounded as calm as ever.
“I can’t sleep comfortably in that bed.”
“…”
“If you’re tired, go ahead and go back in.”
A red mark lingered on Juhyeon’s wrist where Taemo had gripped it. It hadn’t even been held for that long, yet it ached as if it were about to bruise. Juhyeon hid the arm from view and rotated the wrist a couple of times. It was stiff and uncomfortable, but she couldn’t let it show.
“I’m not tired yet. I’ll put on something else.”
Juhyeon paused the screen as the credits rolled and started a new movie. This one was just as quiet as the last. Though it had been silent from the start, Juhyeon lowered the volume even more. With no dialogue to break the stillness, a heavy silence settled over the living room.
The two remained seated, still keeping a careful distance between them. At some point, Juhyeon had started moving with bated breath. She didn’t even drink her beer. Taemo reacted to the faintest sound—even the softest clink of a can against the table. He would just open his closed eyes and glance toward the noise before closing them again.
…
He’s way more sensitive than I thought. If he really couldn’t sleep, was he like this the whole time I was staying in this house? But he never actually left his room. Was he just sitting on the bed with his eyes closed the entire time?
Well, I suppose it made sense given his line of work. Someone who took lives so easily would be all too aware of how easily his own could be taken. His insomnia was starting to make sense.
Juhyeon kept the TV on, the volume muted, and glanced over at Taemo every now and then. Though his posture looked uncomfortable, Taemo’s eyes remained closed. At least he’s getting some rest, Juhyeon thought.
Juhyeon finally drifted off just as the first light of dawn broke. When he woke, he was still on the sofa, but unlike his last memory, he was now lying flat with his legs stretched out and a blanket draped over him.
So much for all that edgy posturing, locking the door every time. Now here he was, sprawled out in the living room, completely defenseless. Even though no one was saying anything, Juhyeon felt a strange wave of embarrassment.
“Um… Hyung?”
Juhyeon’s body ached, a telltale sign he’d been asleep on the sofa for a long time. He cleared his dry throat and called out to Taemo, but no answer came. Rubbing his gritty eyes with the back of his hand, Juhyeon scanned their surroundings.
The coffee table, which had been cluttered with the beer cans they’d been nursing all night and a folded-up bag of potato chips, was now spotless. Only the remote and Juhyeon’s phone remained, placed side by side on the clean surface.
“Went to work out again, I guess.”
Taemo’s outings were limited to Superman Karaoke or his training sessions. Juhyeon didn’t know when he’d be back, but he wanted to sleep a little longer. He’d always struggled with insomnia, yet today, his eyelids felt impossibly heavy.
With a weak grip, he grabbed his phone and headed for the bedroom. Out of habit, he locked the door and dragged a table in front of it. As he collapsed onto the bed that had been empty all night, sleep once again washed over him.
“Ah, why am I so sleepy all of a sudden?”
The apartment remained silent. Outside, the sun was so bright it was already beginning to dip toward the horizon. Juhyeon sprawled languidly, blinking slowly.
His old places had always been noisy, the sounds of his neighbors bleeding through the walls day and night. Whenever he tried to take a nap like this, the sounds of fighting or the roar of motorcycles would pierce his ears. Even the next-door neighbor’s washing machine had rattled loudly… I guess living in a nice place means you can actually nap in peace.
“…”
As he drifted off to sleep, a sudden wave of pity for Taemo washed over him. Why could he never find a moment’s peace in a house this nice? He couldn’t fathom why this thought had struck him so suddenly.
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