Homeboy

Once in my room, I irritably flipped open the diary neatly placed on my desk. The pen I’d been using as a bookmark rolled off onto the floor. Grabbing a red pen from the holder, I struck a cancellation line through the entry without hesitation. The decapitated letters looked like convicted traitors sentenced to execution.

Even then, I couldn’t shake off my bad mood. Deciding to take a shower, I gathered some clothes and stepped out of my room. The sound of water dripping in the kitchen suggested someone was washing dishes. Just as I started toward the bathroom, a sharp realization flashed through my mind.

The phone.

I immediately retreated, carefully scanning the kitchen as I backed away. Quietly, like a stray cat, I slipped back into my room and locked the door behind me. Looking around quickly, I lifted my blanket and shook it out. Thud. Jung-in’s phone tumbled onto the mattress.

Gulping, I glanced nervously at the locked door before snatching up the phone. At this point, there was nothing to lose.

Park Jung-sik, Choi Hyun-ho, Yoo Min-young—names and more names scrolled across the call log like a roll call. I meticulously went through each entry until I came across what had been ;Ji-hye’ two weeks ago: an anonymous eleven-digit number. Ultimately, only four entries in Jung-in’s call log were saved without full names: Mrs. Lee, Mrs. Kim, Dad, and Little One.

Perplexed, I began checking his messenger app in the same methodical manner. After scrolling for a while, I stopped.

‘X’

The name radiated suspicion. My fingers froze mid-scroll. Was this a placeholder from when he was juggling Kim Ji-hye and another woman? My heart racing, I tapped the chat.

X
If you don’t want me to dig through your stuff, return the tent you stole last time.

“It’s Yeo-jin.”

Of course. The profile picture had seemed familiar. Just in case, I scoured the phonebook, photo gallery, and even the spam folder, but there was no trace of a new girlfriend. That left me with two possibilities: either the girlfriend didn’t have a phone, or she didn’t exist at all.

Standing under the shower, water streaming over me, I continued wracking my brain. Besides outlandish ideas like telepathy, pen pals, or carrier pigeons, nothing plausible came to mind. Though Jung-in and I didn’t share every detail of our love lives, he had no reason to lie. Why would he claim to have a girlfriend if he didn’t?

I briefly considered asking him outright but quickly dismissed the idea—admitting I had snooped through his phone would require its own explanation. Frustrated, I ran my hands over my face. Jung-in, so bluntly honest most of the time, occasionally acted secretive in ways that drove me insane.

After thoroughly drying my hair, I returned to my room. Jung-in was standing at my desk, staring at the open diary. His damp hair suggested he’d showered as well.

“Not going to the movie? Canceling plans out of nowhere—is that okay?”

“I canceled it in the diary with a red line, so it’s fine.”

“Alright, then.”

Shrugging, Jung-in pulled a book from my shelf. I shifted my gaze to the window. The rain, now lighter, pattered softly against the glass.

Behind me, Jung-in had settled against the headboard of my bed, the book open in his lap. It seemed he planned to stay in my room until the rain stopped completely.

“Go back to sleep.”

His tone was casual. I stood by the door, observing Jung-in. I thought he might be angry, but his face was surprisingly calm. Though there was a high chance I’d have nightmares if I slept again, I had nothing else to do now that my schedule had suddenly emptied. More importantly, it wouldn’t do me any good to upset Jung-in at the moment.

After some thought, I moved without protest. Pausing briefly to decide whether to climb over Jung-in, who was lying on the outer edge of the bed, I opted to lift the blanket from the foot of the bed instead. I crawled under the covers, inching my way toward the head of the bed. As soon as the back of my head hit the pillow, Jung-in’s large hand ruffled my hair, as if he’d been waiting for this.

“You canceled the movie, but did you cross out the duck barbecue plan too?”

Jung-in asked as if he didn’t already know, though it was clear he’d looked through my diary.

[PM 2:00, Duck, Duck Barbecue Restaurant (★Their pork neck is also delicious!)]

Since the movie was canceled, it was only natural to cancel the lunch that had been planned afterward. However, the thought of drawing two red lines in one go didn’t sit well with me. I’d left the plan untouched, but it had been nagging at me. The tightening anxiety made me furrow my brows. I shook my head.

“Good. Let’s take a nap and go eat later. Want to update your diary?”

This time, I nodded quickly and firmly. Jung-in stood up and brought the diary from the desk. I rolled onto my stomach and opened it, grabbing a pen. Beneath the canceled schedule, I wrote a new one in small letters.

[AM 10:30, My Room, Nap]

“…But what about Mom?”

“Should we pick her up around one? She’s probably at NaNa Café or somewhere like that.”

“It’s MoMo Café.”

“NaNa, MoMo, same difference.”

Ignoring Jung-in’s grumbling, I wrote the new plan in even smaller letters.

[PM 1:00, MoMo Café, Mom Pickup]

Filling the empty time slot with a new schedule dispersed my earlier anxiety like dust. Feeling satisfied, I looked at my updated diary, only to hear a small chuckle above me.

“Where did you even hear that their pork neck is good?”

“……”

Once again, I chose to ignore him. Snapping the diary shut with a loud thud, I lay on my back, staring at the ceiling. As if by habit, Jung-in’s hand followed. His long, large fingers—at least a knuckle longer than mine—pulled the blanket up to my neck with meticulous care. His hand brushed past my face and gently tousled my hair. His touch was unusually cautious.

Jung-in was unexpectedly thoughtful in random moments like this, and every time, I found myself helplessly drawn to him.

“Don’t be kind to me so casually.” 

I muttered, brushing his hand away as it reached my forehead.

“Especially since I’m not even your type.”

“…Alright, then.” 

I tested the waters with my words, but Jung-in simply withdrew his hand without hesitation. Trying to shake off the lingering coolness of his fingers, I pulled the blanket over my head. The distant sound of raindrops and the soft rustle of pages being turned filled the quiet room. The steady, calming rhythm lulled me into a hazy state, and soon my eyes fluttered closed.

Half-asleep, I felt Jung-in’s hand rest gently on my chest. With slow, soothing pats, his touch resonated through me like a comforting drumbeat. Using my drowsiness as an excuse, I extended my arm out from under the blanket. Hugging his firm forearm, I thought I heard him chuckle faintly.

“If you’re not a kid, then what are you?”

With that sighing grumble, I surrendered fully to sleep.

***