Contrary to his worries that he might keep screwing up like he did when he worked part-time, Haejun handled the delivery job pretty well. Everything Yohan had drilled into him paid off. He’d always been friendly by nature, and since he ran hard no matter the distance, he even picked up regular customers.

The income was decent, too. It was peanuts compared to host money, but hell, it was still money. Thanks to Lee Kangjoo covering the rent, this much was enough to pay off the private loan interest and keep food in his mouth.

Mornings and afternoons were for deliveries. Evenings, he waited for Lee Kangjoo like a puppy waiting for its owner at home. Some days he came, some days he didn’t. And even when he did come, it wasn’t like they always ended up in bed. Sometimes he just ate dinner and left, or watched whatever movie was airing on TV before heading out. That was rare, though. Most of the time it ended with him fucking Haejun senseless and leaving.

The advance was being steadily deducted every night they spent together. The generous CEO never forgot to leave a thick wad of payment either. You couldn’t ask for a better client. Even if his bed manners were closer to an untamed wild animal than a human being’s.

The payment—meaning the tip Lee Kangjoo slipped him—was one of the things keeping Haejun breathing. Thanks to that extra leeway, he could even buy Yohan a meal. Yohan always refused, saying Haejun didn’t have that kind of money, but living off constant help made Haejun restless. If he couldn’t even do this much, he felt awful, so he scraped together enough to buy meat anyway.

-......We’ve recorded torrential rainfall exceeding 100mm per hour. ......Heavy rain accompanied by thunder and lightning is expected to continue until tomorrow morning, so residents in low-lying areas should.......

While waiting for the next call, the weather forecast drifted out of the radio. Looking up, he saw rain dripping steadily from heavy gray clouds.

The air grew thick, like it was about to dump everything at once, so Haejun hurried to finish his deliveries. Even so, he got caught in the rain on the way back, and [N O V E L I G H T] by the time he got home he was soaked head to toe, like a rat pulled out of a sewer.

At least the helmet protected his head. He shook his wet hands dry, then shuffled down the hallway.

“Ah.”

He stopped short in front of his place. In front of the neighboring unit—which had been empty—there were boxes and belongings stacked everywhere.

“Guess someone moved in.”

Muttering to himself, he went inside his room. Who lived next door had nothing to do with him. Haejun stripped off his soggy clothes and took a hot shower.

That was one of the best things about this place. Hot water anytime, morning or night. A whole different world compared to his old place, where only cold water came out at dawn.

After drying his hair, he leaned back on the sofa. It looked like the sky had torn open somewhere; the city was trapped in a hazy curtain of mist. The sound of rain lashing against the glass like a whip was deafening.

A flash of light split the air outside. Haejun’s shoulders jerked up. A few seconds later came the rumbling thunder. His body flinched again.

“What kind of rain is this.”

He muttered, curling in on himself. He found his earbuds, stuck them in, and cranked the music up loud. The noise-canceling blocked out the thunder, but there was no escaping the flashes of lightning. Even with the curtains drawn, the blinking light leaked through the narrow gaps.

Haejun hated rainy days. Whenever there was lightning or thunder, the back of his neck prickled. He knew it was stupid—what was there to be afraid of at his age, just some natural phenomenon—but the memories from childhood had stayed behind like scars.

He remembered being around five or six. There was no one home. His mother was dead, and once his father went out, he wouldn’t come back for days. He survived on food neighbors occasionally tossed his way, but everyone around him was barely getting by themselves. No one took care of Haejun like a real child. At best, someone passing by would toss him a handout, telling him to live a few more days as long as he didn’t die.

When it rained, life got even harder. The old house leaked from the ceiling. Mold bloomed constantly, and bugs like millipedes and pill bugs crawled over the damp flooring. When he curled up in a corner to sleep, avoiding the rain, all kinds of bugs would crawl up his ankles like they owned the place.

The bugs were fine. You could just brush them off. What Haejun feared most was thunder and lightning. You could dodge water and bugs. You could fill your stomach with water if you were hungry. But there was nothing you could do about those.

The old door rattling in the wind and rain. The flash of light flaring and vanishing beyond it. The massive roar that followed like a tail.

Even when he shut his eyes, covered his ears, and hid under a moldy blanket, the sudden outbursts of rage sent cold sweat pouring down his spine. It reminded him too much of the sound his drunk father made when he lashed out, fists flying and curses spilling. On nights like that, he couldn’t sleep at all.

He deliberately turned away from the curtains and fiddled with his phone. Just as he was about to turn on the TV, having run out of things to look at, a message came in. Haejun, who’d been glued to the sofa, rustled as he lifted his upper body. A silly smile spread across his lips.

Had there ever been a day when the news that Lee Kangjoo was coming felt this welcome?

Haejun flopped back down, draping an arm over his forehead. Even though he couldn’t hear the rain, some restless noise echoed from somewhere. He fumbled, lowering his hand to find the source. His palm stopped over his chest.

“That’s weird.”

Maybe it was the thunder. His phobia was probably making his chest noisier than usual. He deliberately turned the music up louder, ignoring the rain seeping in.

* * *

Lee Kangjoo arrived at dawn. Haejun, who’d fallen asleep on the sofa, rubbed at his eyes as he got up. It was much later than usual. A faint metallic smell drifted in. It wasn’t the scent of rain. When he turned on the floor lamp next to the sofa, he saw dark specks of blood splattered across Lee Kangjoo’s shirt.

Following Haejun’s gaze, Lee Kangjoo looked down at the blood soaking the cuffs of his sleeves and smiled awkwardly.

“I had something to take care of.”

Wasn’t throwing punches basically his job? It wasn’t surprising. Haejun shook his head to chase away the drowsiness and stood up. He took Lee Kangjoo’s jacket and hung it on the rack.

“You’re not hurt anywhere, are you.”

Maybe it was unexpected. Those handsome brows lifted for a moment before settling back in place. Sitting on the chair, Lee Kangjoo leaned his head back, a hand wrapping around the back of his neck. When his hand came forward again, the knuckles were red and swollen. Some spots were scraped raw, scabbed over with dried blood.

“No.”

Even though it was right there in plain sight, it seemed like he didn’t count that as being hurt. Haejun took the first-aid kit out of the cabinet and sat beside him. Yohan had given it to him after he scraped his knuckles on a wall during a delivery, saying scars would give customers something to nitpick later.

“I think you should treat that.”

“This?”

“Yes. It’ll get worse if you leave it.”

He remembered how miserable he’d been after leaving a cut on his inner thigh untreated until it got infected. Ever since then, even if he didn’t apply medicine, he never skipped disinfecting.

Lee Kangjoo obediently held out his hand. Haejun gently wiped the wound with an alcohol pad. Dark scabs came away, sticking to the white cotton. It had to sting, but Lee Kangjoo just watched, chin propped in his hand. The way his gaze lingered made Haejun’s shoulders tense up.

After finishing the disinfecting, Haejun blew on it to ease the pain. It reminded him of when his mother was still alive, blowing on his scraped knee after cleaning it. The fingertips that hadn’t even twitched when the alcohol touched them flinched at the lukewarm breath.

“Does it hurt?”

“No.”

When Lee Kangjoo clenched his fist, the wounds on his knuckles stood out. The torn skin stretched tight, and despite all the cleaning, fresh blood beaded up again.

“If you do that, it’ll split open. Please open your hand.”

Without complaint, he stretched his fingers out. Haejun finished applying the medicine and took out a bandage. Right then, Lee Kangjoo pulled his hand back.

“That’s fine. It’s uncomfortable.”

It would heal faster if water didn’t get on it. It was a shame, but if he didn’t want it, there was nothing to do. Haejun put the bandage away and slid the box aside.

Outside, rain hammered against the window. It looked like it planned to pour nonstop until morning. The air in the room felt damp. He wanted to throw the window wide open just to air things out, but if he did, the rain would come flooding in.

The silence felt heavy. Lee Kangjoo wasn’t much of a talker, and Haejun had just woken up, his usually quick mouth still offline. Fidgeting his fingers, Haejun felt pressured to say something and parted his lips.

“How did you get hurt.”

Lee Kangjoo, who’d been staring down at the knuckles Haejun treated, lifted his gaze. Maybe he was used to staying up all night—despite it being almost morning, there wasn’t a hint of sleepiness in his eyes.

“I mean, you said you had something to take care of...... I was just curious what kind of thing it was.”

“It’s nothing.”

The clipped tone shut Haejun’s mouth tight. He shouldn’t have asked. If he’d just stayed quiet, at least he wouldn’t have made things awkward.