Haejun pressed his index finger to his temple and spun it in a little circle. Treating it like a joke, Yohan snickered.
“What kind of psycho?”
“He bangs on the door and pounds the wall every damn day saying it’s too loud. I even turn the TV off on purpose and listen to music with earphones, but last time he went off saying he couldn’t sleep because of the sound of water just because I took one shower. Who’s the one who actually can’t sleep here, huh?!”
“That’s fucking insane. Did you try talking to the landlord?”
Haejun shook his head side to side.
Talking about it with Lee Kangjoo wasn’t easy. Light, everyday chatter like nothing was wrong—he could do that anytime. But the moment it turned even a little heavy, anything about problems happening to him got stuck in his throat and just wouldn’t come out. He didn’t want to look like some half-grown brat who couldn’t even handle one thing on his own.
“Did you at least try talking to the guy?”
“I did. But it doesn’t work.”
As if Haejun wouldn’t have tried. Because of this, he’d properly realized why crazy fuckers were called crazy fuckers—because normal conversation just didn’t work with them.
He’d written notes, tried talking, even lost his temper insisting he wasn’t making any noise. But the crazy bastard wasn’t easy. He’d flashed this blue, unhinged look in his eyes and pulled out a kitchen knife—Haejun got scared he might actually stab him and bolted straight back home.
“I thought he’d stop eventually, but.......”
It was going to be a long war. He knew the answer was moving, but he didn’t want to leave such a good place. Fighting back wasn’t an option either—on the other side was a genuine lunatic who’d swing a knife if he snapped, and on this side was a normal person with common sense. The difference in firepower was obvious.
Haejun looked steadily at Yohan. If Yohan were with him, they could make up for what he lacked. And Yohan, with his own history of dealing with mad dogs, wouldn’t be easy either.
The short, happy fantasy stopped there. If the two of them met, it might end with at least a knife fight and bright yellow police tape going up. He couldn’t throw Yohan into a cell just to save his own skin.
“Can I crash at your place for a bit?”
He came back to reality and asked Yohan. Maybe it was because Haejun’s sunken eyes looked pitiful—Yohan agreed without hesitation. Haejun downed the energy drink he’d just bought, squeezing out every last drop, then started his bike.
* * *
Lee Kangjoo came earlier than usual. Surprisingly, there was no sex. Since he was tired—and since the neighbor next door had been driving him crazy—it was a relief they didn’t go all the way, but at the same time he worried a little that Kangjoo’s interest in him might have dropped off a cliff.
Haejun didn’t show it. Just eating dinner together and sitting on the sofa felt like more than enough. His finances weren’t bad either. Between the tips he got every time he slept with him and the money he’d saved from delivery work, things were pretty decent.
But staying home made him anxious, wondering when the neighbor might start banging on the walls again. Even Lee Kangjoo, who usually stayed [N O V E L I G H T] only briefly, seemed to be lingering for quite a while, as if something had changed in his mood.
He couldn’t exactly shove him out, and honestly, Haejun didn’t dislike this time either. Wiggling his toes, he started scheming, trying to figure out how he could stay with Lee Kangjoo just a little longer.
That was when the blanket caught his eye.
A brilliant idea struck him. Haejun cautiously checked Lee Kangjoo’s mood, then spoke during a commercial break on TV.
“If it’s okay, could I go wash the blanket real quick? I’ll be right back.”
He pointed at the neatly folded blanket with his thumb. Maybe it sounded random—Lee Kangjoo stared at him for a moment, then turned his head to look at the washing machine. There was a small washer under the induction cooktop.
“Well, if you want to dry it too, it’s easier to use a laundromat. Want to go together? There’s a 24-hour coin laundry nearby. At this hour there shouldn’t be anyone there.”
“Shall we, then.”
Lee Kangjoo agreed so easily it made Haejun’s worry feel pointless. Haejun cheered internally and hurriedly gathered up the blanket. When he lifted the bulky bundle, Lee Kangjoo gently took it from him.
“I’ll carry it.”
“It’s fine.”
His refusals were always sharp as knives. Haejun awkwardly pulled back his hand and followed Lee Kangjoo. On the way out, he glanced at the neighbor’s place—there was more junk piled outside than yesterday, but not even the sound of an ant crawling.
The laundromat was a block from the apartment. Inside the brightly lit shop, there was no one. Haejun picked an empty machine and stuffed the blanket inside.
Lee Kangjoo could’ve refused and told him to go alone, but instead he’d carried the blanket all the way here. Haejun was grateful. He bought a drink from the vending machine and set it down in front of him.
“Here.”
Lee Kangjoo nodded slightly and took a sip. His Adam’s apple bobbed up and down. For no reason, Haejun touched his own throat. He had the same damn anatomy—so why did Lee Kangjoo’s look so much more obscene?
Maybe his eyes were fucked because he hadn’t slept properly. Haejun rubbed at them with the back of his hand and swallowed to wet his dry throat.
“.......”
He’d come out because he wanted to be with Lee Kangjoo, but now that they were alone together, the air felt awkward. Carefully choosing his words, Haejun blankly stared at the washing machine. Through the glass door, the blanket rolled around, slowly soaking through.
Talking with customers in a room was easy. But in front of Lee Kangjoo, even one sentence was hard to spit out. He kept picking and weighing his words in his head.
“What do you usually do when you’re resting, CEO? Like watching movies or working out. Or OTT stuff?”
Haejun brought up a safe topic. Lee Kangjoo was leaning against the wall, also looking at the washing machine. The face reflected in the clear glass turned toward Haejun.
“Not sure. I don’t really know.”
“Come on.”
“I don’t really have hobbies.”
Haejun’s eyes went wide, and only then did he look straight at Lee Kangjoo. With so many things in the world to do, how could someone not have hobbies? Sure, Haejun used free mobile games as his hobby because he was broke—but this man had money to spare.
“Then what do you do on weekends or days off?”
“I work.”
“No, I mean real rest time. When you’re actually off.”
Lee Kangjoo shrugged. Whether it meant he had no time to rest or that he didn’t do anything in particular was unclear. Haejun turned fully toward him, clasped his hands together on the table, and started a full interrogation.
“Do you work out?”
“Usually in the morning. It’s not a hobby.”
“What kind?”
“A bit of everything.”
Lee Kangjoo fiddled with the rim of his ear. It seemed unconscious. It wasn’t cauliflower ear, but if you looked closely, there were darker scars etched there than elsewhere.
It wasn’t just his ears. Haejun’s gaze shifted to the hands he’d secretly watched so many times.
His palms were big enough to wrap around Haejun’s head with one hand. They looked like a dense, seamless net. The lines were deep and dark, his fingers long with thick joints—sometimes they looked like brutal weapons. The contrast with his flawless, clean-cut face was stark.
But what drew his eyes the most were the scars crisscrossing the backs of his hands. Darker lines than his skin tone were carved deep along the edge of his hand, over his knuckles, between his thumb and index finger. Fainter marks were scattered all over as well.
He wanted to ask how those scars happened. But the moment he said it, he was afraid this quiet calm would shatter. So Haejun thought up another question.
“You watch movies pretty well, though...... What genres do you usually like?”
Even if the TV was just on as background noise, Lee Kangjoo would watch without complaint. Dramas, news—he didn’t seem to have strong preferences. But when a movie was on, his gaze lingered longer. Haejun liked sneaking looks at his side profile bathed in light, so whenever Lee Kangjoo came over, he’d deliberately put on a movie channel.
Even without conversation, the quiet felt peaceful. Haejun liked that time. The bone-deep loneliness eased off for a bit, replaced by the relief of not being alone.
“I’m not picky. Ah, romance isn’t really my thing.”
Haejun nodded. He didn’t like romance either. Yohan devoured romance movies and dramas, saying he needed lines to use on customers, but no matter how hard Haejun tried, he’d get goosebumps first and end up giving up.
Still, now it felt a little regrettable. Maybe he should’ve watched them when he was told to, as practice. Only now did he feel a bit of regret. If he’d worked harder, talking with Lee Kangjoo might be a lot easier right now.
“If you’re okay with it, would you like to go to a movie theater together sometime? Just... as a way to try finding a hobby.”
To make it absolutely clear it wasn’t a date, Haejun put extra emphasis on the word “hobby.” Maybe his desperate clarification was funny—Lee Kangjoo’s lips curved up just a fraction. It was nothing, but it made Haejun’s mood bounce like a kid who’d been praised. He took a sip of his drink to hide his crooked smile.
“I think I might’ve picked one up recently, actually.”
“What is it?”
Haejun’s eyes sparkled. This time, not just his lips—Lee Kangjoo’s eyes curved softly too.
“Meeting Cha Haejun.”
