DP Side Story 2, Episode 8
by BrieDeep Pivot Side Story 2, Episode 8
Yeon-woo stood frozen, not moving an inch, staring at Seo-joon.
“…….”
Only the clink of melting ice in the cup he was holding broke the silence.
Seo-joon was so utterly flustered that goosebumps rose across his entire body.
Out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of the rest of the team, looking like they were on pause—wearing expressions that suggested they had just heard something filthy, yet were doubting their own ears because the one who said it was Cha Yeon-woo.
“…Lieutenant!”
Suddenly, Yeon-woo shouted.
“Sir! I-I meant chocolat la, latte—is that right?”
As if time had resumed, Seo-joon rapidly nodded.
“Yes, Yeon-woo… Yeah, mine’s the frappe…”
His mind was so blank he wasn’t even sure what he was saying. Yeon-woo hastily pushed the cup into his hand.
“Y-Yes, Lieutenant. Here you go, Lieu… tenant…”
Stop. Cha Yeon-woo, just stop… He didn’t seem to realize that enunciating the title so clearly, again and again, only turned doubt into certainty.
Thankfully, no one said a word. Even Cheong-oh, who never missed a chance to tease baby, blamed his own corrupted ears this time and lost his usual quick wit.
As unruly as SAU could be, deep down, they’d all held onto the belief that their baby, at least, was an innocent and sensible one.
Yeon-woo blinked and smiled sweetly at Cheong-oh.
“Team, Leader—your iced tea, right?”
“Cha Yeon-woo, you’re seriously an outrageous person.”
Seo-joon scolded his partner as they walked down the hallway inside the center. Ever since Yeon-woo started calling him Master anytime, anywhere, Seo-joon had known it was only a matter of time before disaster struck.
“Don’t worry, Lieutenant. No one heard it. I handled it well, didn’t I?”
“……”
Handled it how, exactly?
Seo-joon stopped walking and stared at him in disbelief.
“So it’s fine because no one heard it?”
Unbelievable.
“Once or twice, sure. But if you keep saying ridiculous stuff like that, you’re going to end up completely humiliating yourself one day. Not you—me.”
“……”
Yeon-woo lowered his gaze and silently took a step back. Standing there with his hands clutched together and a gloomy expression, he looked like a puppy who’d just been scolded by its owner. Or maybe Seo-joon was just too far gone to see him as anything else.
But no—he was already in deep. The moment a grown man and a palm-sized puppy started looking equally precious to him, Seo-joon had crossed a point of no return.
“There it is. That pouty lip again.”
Seo-joon barely restrained himself from scooping him up and nuzzling him like a tiny dog. Forcing a stern face, he acted serious. At that, Yeon-woo edged closer, just like a puppy who knows exactly where it’s safe to lay down. His large frame came too close, tipping Seo-joon slightly off balance.
“Lieutenant…”
Yeon-woo took his hand and gently swayed it back and forth.
“I was wrong. I’ll really be careful from now on.”
Seo-joon’s lips involuntarily curved. His boyfriend was getting way too cute. With Yeon-woo leaning in more and more, pressing his weight into him, Seo-joon found himself backed toward the wall. He quickly tugged his mouth back into a flat line.
“You think I’ll let it slide if you act all cutesy?”
Interlacing their fingers, Yeon-woo mumbled to himself.
“It’s not cutesy, though…”
“Yeon-woo, do you not know what cutesy means?”
Then he began tracing gentle circles across the back of Seo-joon’s hand with his thumb.
“Lieutenant, are you still mad…?”
“How is this not cutesy?”
Seo-joon was completely wrapped up in his boyfriend’s arms, his whole body pinned against the solid muscle. And then, like air whispering through the tiniest crack, barely audible—
Babe.
“Please don’t be mad anymore. Okay? I was wrong.”
Seo-joon melted again. At this point, it felt like Yeon-woo was using this deliberately, like a secret weapon. But it was so adorable, he couldn’t even bring himself to call him out on it. Smack. Smack. Soft kisses landed here and there on his cheeks, and Seo-joon finally burst into laughter. He reached up and ruffled Yeon-woo’s fluffy head with both hands.
Seriously—if this isn’t cutesy, then what is?
With his lips sticking out in a deep pout, Jeong-woo picked at the broccoli in his white vegetable fried rice, unable to eat it or push it away. He was already a picky eater to begin with, but thanks to Song-hee and Seo-joon spoiling him with snacks, his fussiness had only gotten worse.
He scooped up a few grains of rice and dragged out the meal as if time didn’t matter, slumping heavily against the side of Yeon-woo. Gently nudging him, Yeon-woo spoke firmly.
“Cha Jeong-woo, sit up straight. Are you not going to finish your food?”
He wiped up the broccoli that had been subtly scattered around the tray and scolded him. In response, the small head flopped against his arm.
“I’m not hungry… I don’t wanna eat.”
If he just held out for a little while, Song-hee or Seo-joon would bring something tastier. After being spoiled with cake and ice cream, everything else tasted bland. Jeong-woo started whining, asking for ketchup.
In the end, while Yeon-woo went to get the ketchup, Seo-joon pulled his chair closer and sat down next to Jeong-woo, asking gently:
“Broccoli’s delicious, you know. Why won’t you eat it?”
“It’s gross… It’s creepy and tastes bad.”
Jeong-woo, who only knew finely chopped broccoli, had been shocked when he saw a whole one on TV recently. To his eyes, something about it just looked weird and creepy. Since then, he always checked thoroughly before eating anything, making sure there was no broccoli.
Seo-joon, who played no small part in spoiling Jeong-woo’s diet, felt a twinge of guilt and tried to coax him. He said broccoli would make him grow tall, or that not eating it would make him go bald—but Jeong-woo, now ten and wise enough, wasn’t buying it. Seo-joon let out a short sigh.
“Well, if you hate it that much, I guess there’s no helping it…”
He personally picked out all the broccoli from Jeong-woo’s tray and moved it to another section.
“Jeong-woo says he doesn’t like it… What can you do…”
Seo-joon dropped his spoon and covered his face with both hands.
“But still, hyung is a little sad.”
Gasp—a small inhale came from beside him.
“Hyung?”
A little hand reached out and felt around for Seo-joon’s arm. Still covering his face, Seo-joon sniffled dramatically.
“If Jeong-woo doesn’t eat broccoli… then hyung can’t bring ice cream anymore…”
“……”
“And I guess we can’t eat cake together anymore either…”
Ah, so heartbreaking. Seo-joon whimpered. A small body flopped against him.
“Hyung, are you crying? I’m sorry… Don’t cry, it’s my fault. Hyung, look at me. I’ll eat the broccoli, okay? I mean it!”
…How can siblings be this identical?
With a perfectly dry face, Seo-joon mused silently. The sound of a spoon scraping came from beside him. Peeking through his fingers, he saw Jeong-woo really was scraping up every last bit of broccoli.
“Hey, Cha Jeong-woo.”
Yeon-woo, having returned with the ketchup, stared at him in surprise.
“When did you eat all that?”
Cheeks puffed full from stuffing himself with broccoli and rice, Jeong-woo blinked shamelessly.
“I’ve always liked broccoli, hyung. Didn’t you know?”
Seo-joon leaned his arm casually over the back of Jeong-woo’s chair and gave Yeon-woo a cheeky blink. Ta-da, broccoli gone in the blink of an eye. He pointed to the tray like a magician presenting his trick.
With both of them wearing matching expressions, they somehow looked alike. Yeon-woo gave a dry laugh and sat down. He smothered Jeong-woo’s face in praise and kissed his cheek, then suddenly asked:
“Lieutenant, you didn’t eat it for him, did you?”
“Would I do that?”
“No way!”
They both answered at the same time. It was still suspicious no matter how you looked at it. As Yeon-woo squeezed ketchup over Jeong-woo’s rice, he glanced at Seo-joon—who was now holding out his hand saying, “Yeon-woo, I want ketchup too”—and muttered quietly:
“I seriously don’t know which of you is the baby.”
Still, Yeon-woo squeezed ketchup fairly over both the ten-year-old baby’s and the thirty-year-old baby’s rice.
“Yeon-woo, come sit over here.”
Hee-min, seated next to Dr. Yoon, smiled and gestured to the empty seat. Yeon-woo, sitting across from them with Seo-joon, looked at the two of them with slightly tense eyes.
“A reason has come up for Jeong-woo to accompany us on this trip, Yeon-woo.”
A faint shadow fell over Yeon-woo’s face. It was an expression he hadn’t worn in quite some time. Something in Hee-min’s words must have given him a bad feeling. Yeon-woo, who had lived his life always closer to despair than hope, instinctively began bracing himself whenever it came to Jeong-woo’s illness. It was a defense mechanism he’d developed through repeated disappointment.
“First, don’t be alarmed. Just listen. Patient Cha Jeong-woo has never actually received proper treatment. That’s because everything started from the wrong place.”