“Yesterday...”
As Jaegyeom finally forced the word out, Yoon Taehee—who had been lifting his water glass to his lips—stilled and looked at him.
Yoon Taehee waited quietly for what would come next, but Jaegyeom only clenched and unclenched his fist beneath the table, unable to continue.
He didn’t even know where to begin.
Your ten years were all for nothing.
Even setting everything else aside, those words alone remained lodged in his throat like a fishbone.
It took far more resolve to say them aloud than he had imagined.
He thought he had already made up his mind. But maybe he had never truly prepared himself, because the moment he saw Yoon Taehee’s face, his lips stopped moving entirely. It felt as though someone had sealed them shut.
Jaegyeom slowly lowered his eyes.
“...Never mind. It’s nothing.”
In the end, he couldn’t say a single thing.
Yoon Taehee watched him quietly for a moment before setting his glass down.
“Alright.”
He didn’t press him any further.
He didn’t ask what Jaegyeom had been trying to say. He didn’t mention the Gongju branch incident, or the way Jaegyeom had interrogated him at the hospital yesterday.
The conversation faded away limply, and silence settled between them.
Then the food arrived.
Jaegyeom silently picked up his spoon and chopsticks. He had no appetite whatsoever, but at the very least, he felt he should pretend to eat. He forced a spoonful of rice into his mouth.
He couldn’t even tell whether he was swallowing properly.
He ate mechanically.
It felt like chewing sand.
At some point, a plate slid quietly in front of him.
It was the grilled Spanish mackerel Yoon Taehee had ordered. Every last bone had been removed with painstaking care.
“Why are you giving me this?”
Jaegyeom looked up from the fish.
“I don’t really eat fish.”
“Then why order it?”
Yoon Taehee answered casually.
“You liked it on the island.”
At those words, Jaegyeom remembered.
It was from the trip to Geoyeo Island.
Back then, the guesthouse owner had prepared a table full of fresh seasonal seafood for dinner. There had been golden-browned grilled Spanish mackerel among the dishes, and Jaegyeom remembered eating it enthusiastically.
Yoon Taehee had noticed.
“You ate it well that day too.”
“That was because they put effort into preparing it.”
Yoon Taehee was notoriously picky about food. Normally, he wouldn’t have touched something like that. But that night, he had eaten quietly out of respect for the sincerity behind the meal.
“......”
Jaegyeom stared silently at the plate for a long moment.
“Then what are you going to eat with your rice?”
“I can eat the side dishes.”
The moment he heard that, something inside him twisted violently.
For some reason, Jaegyeom suddenly felt furious.
Furious that Yoon Taehee had ordered grilled fish he normally hated instead of simply eating something else. Furious that he had chosen this restaurant in the first place solely because Jaegyeom liked it. Furious that instead of eating his own food, he was carefully deboning fish for someone else. Furious that he had agreed to dinner without asking a single question.
That he wasn’t angry.
That he wasn’t demanding answers.
“Hey.”
Clatter.
Jaegyeom slammed his spoon and chopsticks down onto the table.
“Worry about yourself for once.”
Yoon Taehee’s hand paused around his chopsticks.
“When did I ask you to debone fish for me?”
The sharp words pierced the air like awls, freezing the atmosphere instantly.
“......”
Jaegyeom wished Yoon Taehee would just get angry instead.
He wished he would demand answers. Scold him. Lash out at him for disobeying orders and running to the Gongju branch. For suspecting him afterward in such a ridiculous way.
If Yoon Taehee got angry, then maybe Jaegyeom could at least defend himself somehow.
But Yoon Taehee said nothing.
It was Jaegyeom who had ruined Yoon Taehee’s revenge.
Caught between Yoon Taehee’s revenge and his own death, Jaegyeom had chosen himself in the end. In his heart, he had already turned away from Taehee’s revenge. That was why he had asked to meet tonight.
To tell him that.
And yet here Yoon Taehee was, carefully removing fish bones for him.
The feeling choking Jaegyeom became unbearable.
But none of this was Yoon Taehee’s fault.
Jaegyeom was the one who had said nothing. Naturally, Yoon Taehee knew nothing. The one who had every right to be angry was Yoon Taehee.
Instead, faced with kindness from someone who knew absolutely nothing, Jaegyeom only ended up hurting himself.
“You’re right.”
At some point, Yoon Taehee finally spoke quietly.
“I did something you never asked me to do again.”
He nodded lightly, almost as if it didn’t matter, then resumed eating with one arm resting lazily against the table.
A faint laugh escaped him.
“You asked me to dinner for the first time, so I guess I got excited like a kid.”
The calm self-mockery made the corner of Jaegyeom’s eye twitch.
“I know I ruined the mood, so just eat.”
And hearing those words, Jaegyeom suddenly realized something.
This anger had never been directed at Yoon Taehee.
He wanted Yoon Taehee to hurt him.
To say cruel things. To treat him coldly. To punish him.
“......”
“......”
In the end, Jaegyeom put his utensils down after only a few bites.
After that, the conversation died completely.
“Eat more,” Yoon Taehee said quietly.
Jaegyeom only shook his head.
And so the two of them finished dinner in near silence before leaving the restaurant together.
“Going home?”
Yoon Taehee asked.
It was Jaegyeom’s day off. Yoon Taehee, meanwhile, still had to go to headquarters.
But Jaegyeom said nothing.
Taking the silence as an answer, Yoon Taehee pulled out his car keys.
“Get in. I’ll drive you home.”
“It’s fine. You should go.”
“I won’t be late just because I drop you off first.”
But Jaegyeom turned away as though he hadn’t heard him.
“I said I’ll go myself. Don’t worry about me and just go.”
At the firm refusal, Yoon Taehee slid both hands into his pockets and looked at him expressionlessly.
Jaegyeom knew perfectly well he was being unreasonable.
He was the one who had asked Yoon Taehee to dinner. Then he got angry for no reason and rejected even the smallest kindness.
Still, without looking back once, Jaegyeom started walking away.
This time, Yoon Taehee didn’t stop him.
Leaving him behind, Jaegyeom wandered aimlessly through the streets.
Before he realized it, night had fully fallen.
After walking without direction for some time, he eventually found himself in front of a bus stop. Jaegyeom sat heavily on the empty bench.
“......”
Lowering his head, he buried his face in both hands.
This wasn’t why he had asked to meet.
It felt as though the ground beneath his feet was collapsing.
Everything felt unbearably dark and suffocating.
Just facing Yoon Taehee had been painful enough that he ended up saying things he never meant and taking his frustration out on him for no reason.
He had no idea how much time passed.
Bus after bus stopped and departed again.
Even after several came and went, Jaegyeom remained rooted to the bench as though nailed there.
The city night was dark and cold.
Passing headlights swept repeatedly across the boy’s exhausted face before disappearing into the distance.
The bus stop remained the same as always.
Quietly noisy.
Desolate.
It was both a familiar feeling and a new one.
Everyone else had somewhere to go.
Only Jaegyeom remained behind.
A helpless loneliness washed over him like a tide. The whole world looked gray.
Slowly, Jaegyeom closed his eyes.
He felt utterly alone in an enormous, barren world.
No one was coming to find him.
There was nowhere left for him to go.
No matter which bus he boarded, none of them would ever take him where he truly wanted to be.
His entire life had been wandering without a destination.
And now, for the first time, he genuinely wanted it all to end.
Jaegyeom had finally reached his limit.
It felt as though he were standing at the edge of a cliff.
If I don’t leave first, I’ll be the one abandoned.
If I don’t throw someone away first, I’ll be the one left behind.
So what are you hesitating for?
Just walk away.
Make the right choice already.
Heat suddenly gathered behind his eyes.
Just as Jaegyeom rubbed roughly at them—
Honk. Honk.
A car horn sounded nearby.
Jaegyeom slowly lifted his head toward the sound.
Then his eyes widened slightly.
Not far from the bus stop, Yoon Taehee’s car sat parked along the roadside.
The moment Jaegyeom noticed it, the horn stopped.
As though it had simply been waiting for him to look over.
Waiting for him to approach.
But Jaegyeom remained seated on the bench without moving an inch.
After a while, the driver’s side door opened.
Yoon Taehee stepped out.
It seemed he had finally come himself after waiting long enough for Jaegyeom to come over on his own.
Walking up to him, Yoon Taehee spoke first.
“It’s late.”
A long time had passed since they separated.
Yoon Taehee should have been at headquarters by now.
Jaegyeom wanted to ask what he was still doing here.
But he kept his mouth shut tightly.
The moment he spoke, he felt certain he would only end up saying something cruel again.
“Come on.”
Yoon Taehee crouched down in front of him until their eyes met.
“I’ll take you.”
He looked at Jaegyeom as though nothing had happened.
Just moments ago, Jaegyeom had clearly told him to stop worrying about him and leave.
And yet here he was again.
“......”
After a long silence, Jaegyeom finally asked quietly:
“Where?”
“...What?”
“I don’t want to go home right now.”
Jaegyeom lowered his head again, his gloomy voice barely audible.
“How do you know where I want to go?”
“......”
“How can you say you’ll take me there when you don’t even know where I’m trying to go?”
Yoon Taehee looked out into the distance for a while before turning back toward him.
Car lights drifted through the dark like scattered fireflies.
In the middle of that bleak scenery, Yoon Taehee answered softly.
“Anywhere you want.”
Silence lingered between them.
Then Yoon Taehee slowly stood and held out his hand.
“If you’re not getting on a bus, there’s no reason to stay here.”
“Let’s go.”
And in that moment, Jaegyeom finally realized something.
Your sadness hurts me more than my own.
