"What... what are you doing?"
"Put this on and hand over your shirt. I’m done eating anyway."
With a casual expression, Beomjin extended his oversized T-shirt toward her. Junyoung stared at the massive garment, which seemed big enough to wrap around her entire body, and asked in disbelief.
"Are you serious?"
"Kitchen soap will get the stains out in no time. So, are you giving it to me or not?"
She wasn’t sure if it was necessary to go that far, but the thought of his bulky frame scrubbing her shirt was oddly amusing. After rolling her eyes, she gestured toward the door with her chin.
"Go wait outside, then."
"Tch... whatever."
“Hey!”
Her eyes widened, revealing more white than usual, prompting a chuckle from Beomjin. Shaking his head, he opened the door and stepped out. The gust of cold air that swept in reminded her that he was now shirtless. Junyoung quickly ducked under the desk, her fingers fumbling with her shirt buttons.
Doing laundry at night was an annoying chore. The lack of hot water in this mountain area made the icy water feel unbearable in the mornings and evenings.
If this saved her that hassle, it was worth it.
As she slipped on Beomjin’s T-shirt, she felt warmth radiating down to her knees. His body temperature must run high. Though the shirt was short-sleeved, its oversized fit nearly covered her wrists. Surprisingly, instead of smelling like sweat or cigarettes, it carried a faint, soothing scent, like polished wood.
"It’s done."
Junyoung called out toward the door, and Beomjin promptly stepped back inside. Spotting her holding out the stained shirt, his expression turned sour.
"Why the face? Didn’t you say you’d wash it?"
His brows twitched as he glanced at her, now wearing his black T-shirt. With a slightly rough motion, he snatched the shirt from her hands and muttered.
"Don’t say stuff like this to anyone else."
"What stuff?"
She asked, genuinely confused, but Beomjin refused to elaborate, stubbornly looking ahead as he stood by the sink, running water over the shirt and rubbing in soap.
As Junyoung watched him from the desk while eating ramen, she couldn’t help but notice the way his broad shoulders tensed and released. Every movement revealed the firm muscles rippling down his arms, while faint blue veins ran like branches along his long limbs.
His presence exuded a strength she couldn’t comprehend, a vitality that felt limitless and unshakable.
Beomjin’s body was... beautiful. The thought struck her unexpectedly. His well-balanced frame, sculpted muscles, and smooth, sun-kissed skin gave him an almost artistic elegance.
"Yoon Junyoung."
Startled from her thoughts, Junyoung realized she’d been staring at him with a noodle dangling from her mouth. Beomjin, still wringing out the shirt, tilted his head toward her, smirking faintly.
"Were you drooling while looking at me just now?"
"The ramen’s spicy. How much chili powder did you put in? Get me some water."
Feigning annoyance, Junyoung wrinkled her nose and slurped the noodle. Beomjin chuckled, poured her a glass of tap water, and handed it over.
She downed it in one gulp, trying to steady herself. For some reason, her neck felt unusually warm.
***
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After finishing their ramen, their movements were strictly divided between the first and second floors.
At first, Junyoung hesitated, wondering if she needed to let Beomjin know she was leaving. But before she could decide, the rustling of her packing must have woken him. He sat up, stretching lazily, and trudged down the stairs with a yawn.
“Are you heading out too?”
“How do you expect me to get home in the pitch dark?”
Junyoung, who had been subtly tense, awkwardly asked at his unexpected remark.
“Are you worried about me? Planning to walk me home?”
At her words, Beomjin looked as though she’d smacked him on the back of the head. His face twisted into a silent scowl so severe it was hard for Junyoung to meet his gaze. Instead, she shifted her focus, raising the flashlight she had brought.
“I’ll just use this to light the way.”
“That's why I asked. Don’t carry that around.”
Beomjin snatched the flashlight out of her hand and tossed it into her bag. Then, catching her furrowed eyebrows, he explained, “Are you trying to advertise that you’re coming here? Do you have any idea how visible that light is at night?”
“Oh.”
Though she acknowledged his point, Junyoung frowned. Then how was she supposed to get around? It was dark out there.
As she mulled it over, her thoughts came to a halt when Beomjin, who had gone to a corner, returned holding what looked like a wooden stick.
He had spent most of his time sleeping like a bear in hibernation, which had lulled her into underestimating him. But this was Kwon Beomjin—infamous for his involvement in a brutal fight involving over a dozen people. That Kwon Beomjin.
“My night vision is good. Just grab this and follow me.”
Junyoung, who had been shrinking back nervously, watched as Beomjin passed her, opening the door to step outside. From beyond the threshold, he extended the end of the long stick toward her.
...She didn’t know then that she’d end up holding onto that stick every night.
Junyoung ran her fingers over the surface of the now-familiar stick and reflected. On the first night, when she’d grumbled about the rough texture, the next evening, Beomjin handed it back to her with blue tape wrapped around the end.
To an outsider, it might look like an upgraded weapon, but Junyoung held it willingly.
There were plenty of rumors about Kwon Beomjin, just as there were about her. But the Beomjin she had come to know wasn’t the type to hurl insults at teachers or steal from the elderly.
Of course, the Beomjin she knew was limited to this place. But anyone who had seen him meticulously fold a wet shirt and slide it under his blanket to dry would have trouble seeing him as a mindless thug.
After spending three hours pressed under Beomjin’s torso, her shirt came out looking freshly ironed. Holding the warm, faintly dusty shirt, Junyoung hadn’t known what expression to wear.
“There’s a hole here.”
Beomjin’s voice brought her back to the present. Walking a few steps ahead, he warned her of a dip in the ground. With only the faint glow of a streetlamp on the distant road to guide them, she had to pay close attention to his words.
“Come to think of it, you do kind of look like a cat. You even have ‘Beom’ (tiger) in your name.”
Beomjin glanced back at her as she muttered. Seeing her nodding to herself, Junyoung added, “Cats have excellent night vision. Their pupils widen so they can see in low light.”
“You know the strangest things.”
He scoffed, and Junyoung shrugged. The rustling of leaves in the wind sounded ominous. Without Beomjin, she wouldn’t have been able to stay out studying this late with peace of mind.
“You don’t sleep during the day and stay up all night, do you?”
“Are you asking what I do at night?”
His tone made it clear he wasn’t thrilled with the question. Junyoung shook her head hastily.
“No, it’s just... I was wondering what I’d do if you suddenly stopped showing up one day. How would I get home in the dark?”
Beomjin snorted at her absurd comment.
“Go home before it gets dark.”
“Home is...”
I can’t go there.
Junyoung clamped her mouth shut before finishing her sentence. Beomjin didn’t respond, seemingly unfazed by her sudden silence.
The two walked quietly, their steps crunching over dirt and dry twigs. When they finally reached the road where the streetlights stood, Beomjin smoothly retrieved the stick and turned to her.
“Go.”
“Okay.”
The words “thank you” lingered on her lips, but she missed her chance to say them. Habitually, she kept her goodbyes short and turned away quickly.
She debated looking back after a few steps but couldn’t bring herself to do it. Sighing, she entered the narrow alley that led home.
The place she shared with her mother was a damp, single-room semi-basement at the end of the alley. The air reeked of mildew and urine.
Holding her breath wouldn’t help. She needed to sniff out whether or not the smell of alcohol lingered near the door.
Just as she tightened her grip on her slipping bag strap and took a deep breath, the creak of the iron door with its frosted glass window startled her. She froze as a dark silhouette emerged.
“Oh, Mom, you’re still up?”
If only...
...if only I had stayed out a little longer.
The pungent smell of alcohol hit her as her mother stumbled forward. Junyoung’s grip on her bag strap tightened, her heart shrinking with a cold dread.