Homeboy

As expected, he looked even more handsome in the daylight. Coming to this conclusion, I nodded slightly to myself. Jung-in, perhaps noticing my gaze, turned his head toward me. I quickly looked away, gulping my rice with a serious expression. Jung-in, his face neutral, suddenly reached out.

Before I could react, his large hand lifted my chin, and his fingers roughly wiped the edge of my lips.

“Mom, this kid still can’t even use chopsticks properly and gets food all over his face. Are you sure he’s ready for school? He’s already an older freshman, and if he’s clumsy on top of that, what’s he going to do?”

On his fingers, which had just brushed my lips, was a reddish sauce, likely from the stir-fried pork. His dry gaze lingered on me as he casually stuck his fingers in his mouth, loudly sucking off the sauce.

“Tastes good. I should eat more.”

The subject and object missing from his sentence made me involuntarily imagine inserting ‘lips’ and ‘Yeo-il’ into it, causing my face and neck to heat up instantly. What is wrong with me? Spending all morning with Jung-in must have corrupted my thoughts, making me indecent too.

“His bad temper is more of a problem than his chopstick skills.” 

Mom said with a chuckle, joining in to mock her real son while laughing with the ‘neighbor’s son.’

If I left them to it, they’d undoubtedly spend the entire meal ridiculing me. Deciding to unleash my “bad temper,” I retorted.

“What are you talking about? I’m popular. And stop calling me a kid.”
“Oh-ho, the kid’s mad.” 

With his slightly excited, boyish smile, he looked as innocent and pure as a teenager. Compared to him, my earlier indecent thoughts made me feel like a complete degenerate. Guilt tightened my chest, and my defiance faltered. Still, I launched another pointless attack.

“Don’t call me a kid!”
“Why not? You are one.”
“I’m twenty-three.”
“So? I’m thirty-two.”

There was no way someone like me could win against Jung-in. Deciding to drop it, I fell silent.

Mom, who had been watching our pointless exchange, spoke up, her tone cheerful but her expression cautious.

“Still, now that you’re going to college, Yeo-il, you’ll probably get a girlfriend, right?”

The fact that I liked men, and that the man I liked was Jung-in, had been unintentionally revealed when I was eighteen. It was an unspoken rule in our family (technically, both our house and Jung-in’s) that this truth was treated as a secret and never brought up. However, everyone knew it was an ongoing reality.

The person who branded me with the scarlet letter of ‘dirty gay’ had been my closest friend at the time. Within half a day, I went from having no allies to being followed by the scornful or pitying gazes of the entire school. Despite the malicious ridicule and disdain, I never denied the truth. Even if no one else could understand me, I had to accept myself.

What I fought to protect, even as I was dragged through the mud, was the essence of who I was: my body, my mind, my reason, my emotions—everything that made me Son Yeo-il. It was a desperate dance to cling to life, a final act of resistance to avoid losing myself. Leaving school had been my choice.

So, I had every reason to get angry at my mom for jokingly dismissing me as someone who could get a girlfriend. This was the perfect moment to flip the table and unleash my bad temper.

But I couldn’t.

Even with her grim expression, my mom was still clinging to a sliver of hope. Seeing her so anxious, afraid of receiving the wrong answer, drained my energy. She had tried to ignore and suppress who I was, but in truth, she was entirely normal and aligned with societal expectations. I was the exact opposite.

‘A protruding nail gets hammered down. ‘

“A girlfriend? More like a boyfriend. Wake up, Mrs. Lee.”

But I wasn’t the only misfit in our family.

“Pretending you don’t know and passing responsibility onto him? What’s the point of saying, ‘Sure, okay.’ Do you think if you say that, Yeo-il will suddenly decide to like girls?”

Cha Jung-in didn’t hold back. Even when everyone had silently agreed to keep things under wraps, he made no exceptions. He would call my mom ‘Mom,’ act like a doting youngest child by spending his weekends helping her cover for the absence of her married eldest daughter, but in situations like this, he’d scold her like a delinquent from a back alley, completely disregarding any manners.

“That’s not what I meant…”

“Oh, really? Because it sure looks like you’re subtly pushing for an answer while he’s just sitting there worrying about what to say. What’s so funny about that? Are you the victim and Yeo-il the perpetrator?”

“Why do you have to put it like that? I just thought he might have changed his mind since he’s still young…”

“Didn’t you and Dad meet when you were twenty? You dated and got married back then, so why are you making an exception for Yeo-il?”

Unlike Jung-in’s calm and steady tone, my mom’s voice rose, her discomfort and irritation evident after being so pointedly called out. I gauged when I might need to step in, watching the tension build.

“It’s just so frustrating! No matter how much I think about it, I can’t understand it!”

“Did Yeo-il ever ask you to understand? Just stop trying and accept it. It’s easier.”

“Easy? Do you think this is easy just because it’s not your problem?”

“No, Mom. You’re wrong. I’m both Yeo-il’s brother and the man he likes. How could it not be my problem? Of course it’s hard for me.”

“Oh, great. You’re amazing, Cha Jung-in!”

“Of course I am. That’s why Yeo-il likes me.”

Jung-in truly… never lost an argument. Today, I finally realized that having someone on your side could be downright annoying. I decided it was better to never think about beating Jung-in again.

Red-faced, my mom yanked off her apron and threw it down. Still fuming, she stomped out of the kitchen, her footsteps echoing through the living room. A moment later, the front door slammed shut, signaling her departure. The peaceful Saturday morning had been swept up in a stormy argument, ending in Jung-in’s victory. The loser had left, while the winner picked up his spoon instead of a trophy.

“Mom got mad because of you, Son Yeo-il.”

His victory speech was, unsurprisingly, absurd. I couldn’t help but burst into laughter, completely forgetting how serious things had just been.

“You’re the one who argued with her. Why blame me?”

As I laughed uncontrollably, I blurted out a sulky question, feeling a twinge of guilt. After all, the fight had started because of me, and I’d laughed it off too easily.

“Why were you acting so pathetic and self-conscious?”

His final remark, almost a mutter, was just loud enough to reach me. For the first time, Jung-in frowned slightly. As we continued eating, he went on to say things like, ‘You grew up watching someone like me, so it’s natural no one else measures up,’ or ‘You’re not even doing anything wrong, but being self-conscious is probably why you’re not growing taller.’ I wasn’t sure if he was encouraging or scolding me, but I nodded eagerly and agreed anyway.

“Since we’re on the topic, you should stop liking me.”

Just when the mood was finally nice, Jung-in had to ruin it. He had a natural talent for disruption. True to form, Jung-in, who never pretended not to know something, was impartial—even with me.

“Why? Didn’t you say I like you because you’re so cool?”

“That’s a separate issue. There’s no chance of it working out, so why waste your energy?”

“Am I really that bad?”

“Do you have to phrase it like that?”

Jung-in raised his hand and flicked my forehead lightly. Despite the exaggerated motion, there was almost no force behind it, just a brief touch of his knuckles.

“Who you are as a person is entirely your matter. Whether I like you or not has nothing to do with your worth. I’m just saying don’t waste your energy on something that won’t happen.”

“Why won’t it happen? Because you’re too old for me?”

“…Isn’t the usual line, ‘Because I’m too young?’”

Ignoring his perplexed expression, I fell into my own thoughts. A long-standing question buried deep inside me rose to the surface. I’d wanted to ask it, but it had always been stuck in my throat. For some reason, it felt possible now.