From Cheong-o’s side, Se-hyeon wandering around someone else’s house like it was his own was almost admirable. Without being told, he cooked for himself, ran the washing machine, cleaned the house. While living with Se-hyeon, he didn’t need to call anyone in. There was no need.
At set times, Se-hyeon swept and scrubbed the house. His face, full of pride after a thorough cleaning, made it hard to stop him. If he enjoyed it, that was enough. That was Cheong-o’s conclusion.
‘I haven’t been in touch with the Center — is that okay?’
‘What contact?’
‘I feel like I’ve been resting too long without permission…’
Another day, he’d been drying his hair in the bathroom and then, out of nowhere, asked about going back to work with a grave face. As if it had occurred to him far, far too late.
‘After a big gate like that, they give you leave.’
‘Ah.’
‘Unless it’s a small gate — if they didn’t give you time to recover, that’d be abuse.’ ‘But this long?’
‘I told the Guiding Center, so you can keep resting for a while. What, do you want to go to work?’ At the teasing question, Se-hyeon sat on the sofa wearing someone else’s pajamas like they were his own, playing dumb. Saying random things like, ‘Is the sofa expensive?’
The scratches on his face had long since been healed clean by Nae-seon, who’d rushed over the next day. They said an esper’s abilities had no limits, but it still amazed him.
Today Cheong-o had gone out, so Se-hyeon was home alone. Cheong-o had said he’d be back around evening, and to call if there was anything he wanted to eat, before leaving.
With no need to go to work and the cleaning all done, Se-hyeon, out of things to do, muffled his footsteps and wandered the house, even though no one was home.
“Does he even wear all of these?”
Cheong-o’s dressing room had closets on every side. On one side hung Se-hyeon’s freshly laundered uniform, which felt oddly out of place. Slender fingers traced the neatly hung clothes.
Coats of similar length, knits folded and hung so the shoulders wouldn’t stretch, tops sorted by color. Jeans with jeans. All the other clothes grouped by kind. Se-hyeon felt a rush of pleasure at things arranged this prettily.
Under the glass, the watches lined up in a row were mostly like new. These must all be expensive. He could never buy one on his salary.
Se-hyeon had gone from B-rank to A-rank, but with no particular achievements, his pay was about the same. He didn’t feel wronged. If he’d been paid the same as everyone else for doing nothing, his conscience would have hurt.
“Dog tags…”
He had his own, but his were decorative, so thinking of these as his made the feeling different. He’d seen the dog tags around Cheong-o’s neck inside the gate, but hadn’t looked closely in the chaos.
One thing was certain — they’d looked newer than these, maybe?
Se-hyeon stroked the scratched dog tags and pictured Cheong-o wearing them. In his imagination, Cheong-o was, strangely, shirtless. Just like inside the gate. The dog tags over nicely tanned skin.
The bare torso he’d seen inside the gate had been so well-muscled it made him ashamed of his own body.
Se-hyeon snapped out of it, startled, stroking the tags blankly, and quickly put them back. What on earth was he thinking, having strange thoughts over dog tags — it was absurd. His face burned with a heat that felt almost feverish.
He must be going insane. What would he do if he knew he’d been having wicked thoughts about him? Would he kiss him again? Or like that time, again…
Again, again. More strange thoughts. It must be from doing nothing but staying home — his mind was going. He patted his cheeks, not hard, and standing in the entryway, opened the shoe cabinet. Like its owner, the cabinet was huge.
Of all the shoes, the first to catch his eye were the combat boots. They showed their age but were well kept, gleaming. He wanted to touch them but wasn’t sure he should, without permission; then, figuring the owner wasn’t home anyway, he carefully picked one up.
He turned it this way and that with curious eyes, finished his inspection, and set his own shoe beside the boot.
One sneaker next to the combat boot. He hadn’t realized — his feet were bigger than Cheong-o’s. He tucked his sneaker in and slyly slipped his foot into Cheong-o’s boot, swinging his leg.
The slightly loose boot was heavy and his leg ached. Playing with someone else’s shoes, he found himself wanting to see Cheong-o in his uniform and boots. He’d have to ask him to show him sometime. He took his foot out, put the boot back in its place, and his busy eyes moved on to the other shoes.
There were sneakers in the cabinet, but dress shoes outnumbered them. Come to think of it, he always wore dress shoes. How could people’s tastes differ this much? After staring for a long while at the boots that kept stealing his gaze, Se-hyeon closed the door.
Cheong-o, who’d said he’d be back around evening, didn’t show his face until eleven — exactly one hour before midnight. Glancing at him in a light coat and, as always, dress shoes, Se-hyeon rubbed his sleepy eyes.
“Why aren’t you asleep if you’re sleepy.”
As a guest imposing on him, he couldn’t very well sleep before the owner of the house had even come in. Se-hyeon silently tidied his shoes into the shoe cabinet.
“Honestly…”
Trailing after Cheong-o down the hall, Se-hyeon tilted his head at the faint smell of alcohol.
“Did you drink?”
“Can you smell it?”
“A little.”
“Damn.”
It seemed he could get away with not being drunk, but not with hiding the smell. Looking sheepish, scratching his neck, Cheong-o set the paper bag he’d been carrying on the sofa.
“Try these on, see if they fit.”
“What is it?”
“Clothes for you, Guide.”
“Clothes? What for, all of a sudden…”
“You said my clothes are too big.”
“Ah…”
The tops were more or less wearable, but the waist was big, so the pants kept sliding down and he had to keep hiking them up. Even now he had them loosely tied with a rubber band, the hems folded two or three times.
“…They’re fine.”
“Whose fault will it be if you trip on them and fall. Wash them now and wear them starting tomorrow.”
“I’ll do laundry tomorrow.”
“Why not just wash them now?”
“It’s late… and I want to sleep.”
“Well, whatever. Your call, Guide.”
A flicker of disappointment crossed the face examining the packaged clothes. It had been fine even though they were uncomfortable… He hadn’t minded wearing Cheong-o’s clothes. If anything, it had made his heart race, in a good way. Se-hyeon held the clothes up against his torso.
The pajamas were an unremarkable navy. He hadn’t tried them on, but the size looked exactly right. Se-hyeon asked Cheong-o, who was heading from the dressing room to the bathroom.
“How did you know my size?”
“I’ve had enough practice holding you.”
Cheong-o spread his arms as if measuring, grinning. It unmistakably looked like someone holding a person. The eyes of the one clutching the pajamas narrowed to slits, and Cheong-o’s mouth corners dipped, then rose.
“I saw when we fitted your uniform.”
“Go wash up.”
“I can’t even joke around, you’re so scary.”
Not scary at all, and yet — again, again. When Se-hyeon narrowed his eyes, Cheong-o smoothly turned and vanished into the bathroom.
Meaning only to greet Cheong-o when he came out washed, Se-hyeon sat on the sofa under a blanket, and the covered body gradually lost its center and tilted. Just a little lie-down… The blanket that had covered his lower half had crept up to his neck before he knew it. He shouldn’t sleep…
A warm living room, a comfortable mood. A cozy blanket. Not one of them was a bother. Losing the hard-fought battle against his heavy eyelids, Se-hyeon fell asleep, snoring softly.
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