Jihoon stared at him, his expression unreadable. For a moment, he considered the sincerity in Minjae's voice, the raw emotion in his eyes. But he quickly shook the thought away, unwilling to let himself soften.
"Do whatever you want" Jihoon said, turning his back to Minjae. "Just don't drag me into it."
Minjae watched him in silence, his heart heavy with regret and a growing determination to atone for his past mistakes.
Minjae straightened his suit, the weight of their conversation still hanging heavy in the air. His voice, however, was calm and steady as he spoke again. "I'll visit Mom soon" he said, more to himself than to Jihoon. "It's the least I can do."
Jihoon watched him, his cold exterior beginning to waver. There was something different about Minjae now. The man standing before him wasn't the reckless, arrogant stepbrother who had left years ago. This Minjae was composed, determined—a man who didn't seem to be running from his mistakes anymore.
The realization struck Jihoon hard, and he felt his defenses crack just a little. Deep down, he craved the connection they used to have, the fun times and the bond they had shared before everything fell apart. Memories of their childhood flooded his mind—playing soccer in the yard, laughing at silly jokes, Minjae ruffling his hair like an annoying but affectionate big brother.
Was the past worth taking back? Jihoon didn't know. But for the first time in years, he found himself wondering if it was possible.
"You're quiet" Minjae said, his voice snapping Jihoon out of his thoughts.
Jihoon blinked, realizing he'd been staring at Minjae without saying a word. "I'm just… processing," he muttered, looking away.
Minjae smirked, the familiar teasing glint returning to his eyes. "Well, process this," he said, crossing his arms. "Your job starts tomorrow at 8 a.m. sharp. Don't be late."
Jihoon rolled his eyes, his usual irritation resurfacing. "I know how to be on time," he grumbled.
"Good!" Minjae said with a nod. Then, after a brief pause, he added casually, "Oh, and one more thing."
"What now?" Jihoon asked, already bracing himself for whatever ridiculous demand Minjae was about to make.
"After the job is done tomorrow," Minjae said, his tone light but firm, "I insist on taking you out for dinner."
Jihoon's eyes widened slightly, caught off guard by the unexpected suggestion. "Dinner?"
"Yes," Minjae said, his smirk growing. "You know, that thing where two people sit down, eat food, and have a conversation. You've heard of it, right?"
Jihoon glared at him, his cheeks flushing. "I know what dinner is" he snapped.
"Great," Minjae said, ignoring Jihoon's irritation. "Then it's settled. I'll pick you up after work."
"I didn't agree to that," Jihoon protested, though his voice lacked its usual conviction.
Minjae shrugged, his expression completely unbothered. "You don't have to. I'm your boss now, remember? Consider it part of your orientation."
Jihoon groaned, running a hand through his hair. "Your really pising me off..."
"And you're predictable" Minjae shot back, his grin widening.
Despite himself, Jihoon felt a small smile tug at the corners of his lips. He quickly suppressed it, unwilling to let Minjae see the effect he was having.
As Jihoon turned to leave, Minjae's gaze lingered on his retreating figure. Maybe—just maybe—there was a chance to rebuild what they had lost. But whether or not he was ready to take that chance was a question he wasn't sure he could answer yet.
Jihoon shut the door to his dorm with a heavy sigh, kicking off his shoes haphazardly before dragging himself to his bed. He collapsed face-first onto the mattress, burying his head into the pillow with a muffled groan. Frustration bubbled up inside him, but it wasn't just because of Minjae's teasing or sudden reappearance in his life.
"What is wrong with me?" Jihoon muttered into the pillow, his voice barely audible.
There was this unfamiliar, fuzzy feeling swirling in his chest, something he couldn't quite name. It was warm, confusing, and entirely unwelcome—or at least, that's what he told himself. He flipped onto his back, staring at the ceiling as his thoughts spiraled.
"Do I really miss him?" Jihoon asked himself, his voice soft and uncertain.
The memories of their conversation earlier replayed in his mind. Minjae's teasing words, the unexpected gentleness in his tone, and, most of all, that hug. Jihoon frowned, his face heating up as he recalled how Minjae's arms had felt around him—strong, steady, and safe.
And the scent. Minjae had smelled so nice, a blend of something clean and rich, like cedarwood with a hint of citrus. Jihoon hadn't realized how much he'd missed feeling secure, even if it was just for a fleeting moment.
He groaned again, pressing a hand over his face as if that could block out the thoughts. "This is stupid-" he mumbled.
Before he could dwell on it further, his phone buzzed on the bedside table. He reached for it lazily, expecting another text from a classmate or a notification from social media. But when he saw the name on the screen, his heart sank.
Sangho calling…
Jihoon froze, his fingers hovering over the decline button. His chest tightened, a wave of anger, hurt, and something unspoken washing over him. Sangho, his ex, the man who had brought so much joy into his life—and just as much pain.
With a sharp intake of breath, Jihoon hit decline, tossing the phone onto the bed as if it had burned him. He sat up, running a shaky hand through his hair, but his mind wouldn't let him off the hook so easily.
The memories came rushing back.
At first, it had been perfect. Sangho had swept Jihoon off his feet with his charm, his laughter, and the way he made Jihoon feel seen in a way no one else had before. They had been happy, or at least Jihoon thought so. Late-night conversations, stolen kisses, and promises whispered in the dark.
But then came the arguments—fiery, endless fights that drained the life out of both of them. Sangho's addiction to thrills and his reckless behavior were the beginning of the end. Jihoon had tried to help him, to save him, but in the process, he had lost himself.
The last fight was the worst. Jihoon could still hear the harsh words they had exchanged, the accusations, the venom. And then it was over. Jihoon had walked away, heartbroken but resolute, knowing he couldn't keep tearing himself apart for someone who wouldn't change.
Now, even months later, Sangho's shadow lingered in Jihoon's life. The debt he owed to the loan sharks was proof of that.
Jihoon clenched his fists, his nails digging into his palms. He hated how Sangho still had this hold on him, even from afar. And yet, there was a small part of him—a tiny, foolish part—that still remembered the good times and missed them.
"No" Jihoon said firmly, shaking his head as if that could rid him of the thoughts. "It's over. He's not worth it."
But as he lay back down, his eyes staring blankly at the ceiling, he couldn't help but wonder if he was doomed to repeat the same mistakes, to keep chasing something that would only hurt him in the end.
And then there was Minjae. Jihoon's chest tightened again at the thought of him, his stepbrother's teasing smirk and steady gaze flashing through his mind.
"Why does he have to come back now?" Jihoon whispered, his voice laced with a mix of frustration and longing.
For the first time in a long time, Jihoon felt like he was standing at a crossroads. One path led to the past, to the pain and mistakes he couldn't seem to escape. The other was uncharted, uncertain, but it had Minjae waiting at the end.
Jihoon closed his eyes, the weight of it all pressing down on him as he drifted into an uneasy sleep.