PSY CH 22

Mixed with Dohyun’s uniquely heavy atmosphere, the whole thing felt muddied like it had been tainted by something impure.

“That thing only you know.”

Then came his sharp, bitter voice. Jooyoung’s brow furrowed slightly. 

“…Thing that I’m the only one who knows?”

“Yeah.”

Jooyoung crouched down in front of him, face to face. The coldness of the railing seeped through to his back.

“Why do you think that?”

Dohyun’s head tilted at an angle. He looked down at the floor once, then met Jooyoung’s gaze. 

“Because you’re the only one who does.”

His eyes, clouded by alcohol, looked like cigarette smoke drifting through the night sky. 

“You only treats me like a person when it suits you…” 

“…”

“And you’re so fucking sensitive—like, painfully, fuckingly sensitive—that you makes me walk on eggshells, ha… all the time.”

Dohyun slowly raised his arm and tapped Jooyoung’s forehead with his index finger. Not just once—twice, three times—pushing it each time.

“You’re fucking selfish. You know that?”

With one final push, Jooyoung nearly fell back on his butt. He came to his senses just in time and swatted Dohyun’s hand away. But Dohyun, for whatever reason, just kept chuckling to himself, reeking of strong alcohol every time he laughed.

“Yeah. I’m the fucking selfish Bae Jooyoung, so let go. That hurts.”

He shook his wrist, signaling for Dohyun to let go, but Dohyun only tightened his grip. In the end, Jooyoung had to freeze mid-motion in a half-standing, awkward position.

“I said it hurts—”

“Can’t you just sleep over?”

“…”

“Just for a bit… yeah?”

What on earth was he thinking? Jooyoung couldn’t understand why Dohyun kept insisting he sleep over, even while fully aware that he wasn’t a woman.

He looked down at the hand gripping his wrist. It was large and firm, all prominent knuckles and veins—the kind of hand that looked far more used to giving pain than receiving it.

And yet, somehow… he seemed like a completely different person from the one who mocked and threatened Jooyoung. He looked fragile, like he’d collapse if you so much as nudged him, hollowed out from the inside.

“…Sigh.”

Jooyoung ran his forehead against the back of his hand and let out a sigh of resignation. Who was really worrying about whom here?

But again, the decision came quickly. A voice, laced with quiet defeat, slipped out from between his lips. 

“Fine. I’ll stay.”

“Real…ly?”

“Yeah. So open the door already.” 

Dohyun staggered to his feet. With Jooyoung supporting him, he shuffled over to the front door and tapped on the digital lock. In the darkness, nine numbers lit up on the panel.

Beep, beep. Even as he keyed in the code, he clung tightly to Jooyoung’s shoulder, as if afraid he might run off. Jooyoung stayed close, holding him steady as they waited for the door to open.

Beeep, beeep, beeep.

A shrill error beep sounded. Dohyun must’ve pressed the wrong number.

“Ah, I messed up.”

He chuckled to himself, swaying. Jooyoung gripped his arm a little more firmly to stop him from tipping over.

Beep, beep, chirp!

The second attempt did the trick. As soon as the lock clicked open, Dohyun dragged Jooyoung inside with him, lurching through the doorway. For someone that drunk, he had absurd strength.

“Wait—ah!”

Jooyoung planned to just come inside to throw Dohyun inside and came out, but Dohyun’s grip clamped down on his shoulder, refusing to let go. Hence, the door slammed shut behind them with a heavy thunk.

Despite the late hour, every light in the house was on—from the living room to the bedroom. It was bright enough to make Jooyoung squint.

Dohyun stumbled past the living room into what seemed to be his bedroom. The space contained only a standing monitor, some lighting, and a king-sized bed. The first impression Jooyoung got from it was for a room that big, it felt oddly bare.

“Ah!”

Dohyun collapsed face-down onto the bed. Still caught in his grasp, Jooyoung lost his balance and fell with him. The sheets were rough to the touch and carried a strong scent of fabric softener—the same scent Dohyun often wore.

“I’m so damn tired… ha…”

Dohyun let out a giggle, then turned his face to the right. Heavy breaths spilled from him. His eyelids drooped, slow and sluggish. Seizing the moment, Jooyoung slowly lifted himself off the bed and swung his legs down, trying to stand—only for a hand to suddenly grab his wrist.

“…Where you goin’.”

Despite the relatively clear words, Dohyun’s eyes continued their slow cycle of closing and blinking open. Jooyoung could tell he was going to pass out soon, unable to fight the alcohol much longer. He figured he’d stick around for a bit, and once Dohyun was asleep, quietly slip out.

Maybe it was Jooyoung’s disinterested expression, but Dohyun’s voice suddenly turned urgent. 

“You said you’d stay… didn’t you?”

“…”

“Don’t go… okay?”

Dohyun slowly turned onto his side and shifted closer to Jooyoung. Maybe it was the alcohol, but his eyes were strangely wet—like he was on the verge of tears.

Jooyoung was taken aback. For a brief second, he saw the image of the child Dohyun used to be, overlap with the man before him. 

Come to think of it, Dohyun had always been a lonely kid. He hated being home alone and spent most of his time outside at the playground. His parents only came to see him on weekends, and his grandfather was usually drunk, chasing gambling tables. So for the most part, it had been Jooyoung who stayed by his side.

“If you’re gonna go…”

“…”

“Can you at least wait… ‘til I fall asleep?”

The hesitant request made Jooyoung’s eyes widen. 

The man who once made frightening threats was nowhere to be found—in his place was a child, trembling with anxiety at being apart from his parents.

“…”

The slender fingers resting on the bed curled inward.

Even as he whimpered for Jooyoung not to leave, Dohyun kept glancing up to gauge his reaction. It felt so unfamiliar. Of course, as a kid, Dohyun had always watched Jooyoung’s mood closely. But ever since they’d reunited, he hadn’t shown even a hint of that. That’s what made this moment feel so strange—like catching a glimpse of soft flesh beneath a hardened shell.

Sleep was clearly overtaking him. The grip on Jooyoung’s wrist kept loosening and tightening again. Dohyun’s eyelids were doing the same—drooping, then fluttering open. It wouldn’t be long now. Soon, he’d fall asleep, and Jooyoung could leave and go home.

And yet…

Why did he feel this dull, persistent discomfort, like he’d just swallowed a thorn?

“…”

Jooyoung quietly looked down at Dohyun. Just as his eyes were about to fully shut, they reopened, locking with Jooyoung’s, as if to check whether he was still there. Then they closed again, opened, and repeated.

Through the wide-open bedroom door, the brightly lit living room could be seen. Though it was nearly midnight, the apartment was lit up like midday. Every room, every corner glowed with light. 

“If you’re sleepy, then sleep.”

Jooyoung gently helped him lie down. No sooner had he done so than Dohyun’s eyes flew open again. As if he’d expected Jooyoung to leave, he sat up abruptly and seized his wrist.

The sting of pain surprised Jooyoung a little, but he didn’t shake it off. Instead, he gently pushed Dohyun’s forehead. The bigger man collapsed backward without resistance.

“I’m not leaving until you fall asleep. So go to sleep.”

Still, Dohyun’s anxiety didn’t ease. The way he refused to let go of Jooyoung’s wrist made that clear. After a moment of thought, Jooyoung simply reached out and covered Dohyun’s eyes.

“So, just sleep already.”

With each breath, Dohyun’s chest rose and fell in a slow, steady rhythm. Jooyoung had worried he might insist on staying awake, but it seemed Dohyun had only been barely holding on. Before long, he finally surrendered to sleep. The faint tickle of his eyelashes against Jooyoung’s palm slowed… then ceased altogether.

Had the fierce blaze inside him fallen asleep too? With his eyes closed, Dohyun looked quiet and even cool. 

Jooyoung stayed beside him until after midnight. Then, carefully, he slipped away from the sleeping figure. He didn’t turn off the lights. If Dohyun woke up in the middle of the night, Jooyoung didn’t want him startled by the dark.

***

When Dohyun opened his eyes, noon had long passed. Sunlight streamed between the curtains, and the air in the room was comfortably warm. Still groggy, he blinked against the brightness. 

What finally snapped him out of his daze was the insistent vibration of his phone. It lay neatly beside his pillow. 

— Hwangdo!

A call from Hangyeol.

“…What.”

— Let’s go get hangover soup!

Dohyun sighed and rubbed his temples with his thumb and forefinger. His voice came out like it had been scraped across sandpaper.

“I just woke up.”

— Aw, come on! Let’s go, let’s go! Gae Junwoo^[1]’s coming too!

“Then you two go eat without me.”

The pounding in Dohyun’s head from the vicious hangover made everything spin. In this state, whatever he ate was bound to come right back up. He was expecting Hangyeol to give up after the firm refusal, but instead, the guy blurted something completely unexpected.

— Hwangdo, you know… should I apologize?

“Apologize?”

Dohyun, massaging the stiff back of his neck, frowned. “To who?”

— The pawnshop hyung.

Hangyeol said he’d been thinking about it, and the more he did, the more it felt like he might’ve really crossed a line. That maybe he should apologize properly. Dohyun hadn’t expected someone to bring up Jooyoung, especially not from Hangyeol. It was strange, incredibly out of character. Hangyeol, after all, was the kind of guy you’d call lively at best and reckless at worst. He’d pulled more than his fair share of pranks that went too far—some of which had cost him friendships.

And now he wanted to say sorry? Out of nowhere?