“It’s time. Let’s go.”

Lee Kangjoo checked his watch and prompted Haejun. Haejun shouted “Just a second!” and bolted for the concession stand. There was no line, so he quickly bought popcorn and drinks. With both arms full, he trotted back over to Lee Kangjoo.

“It’d feel wrong without popcorn.”

Haejun hugged a tub of popcorn bigger than his own head and took the lead. With drinks in both hands too, he looked pretty unstable, but Lee Kangjoo only smirked and followed behind him.

It had been a really long time since Haejun had been to a movie theater. Between having no time and an empty wallet, it just hadn’t been an option. He’d only ever watched outdated movies playing on TV with Yohan.

The ads ended and the movie started. He’d only checked that the top-ranked reservation wasn’t a romance before snapping up tickets, but as time went on, Haejun’s hand heading for the popcorn slowed. He was restless before the opening even finished.

Of all things, it was noir. Blood and violence splashed across the screen. The story was about a gangster who’d retired from an organization, lost the senior he’d served in an accident, and got swept up in some kind of conspiracy.

When a long-take scene played of the protagonist fighting off enemies rushing him like a pack of dogs, Haejun couldn’t focus. He anxiously chewed at his lip and looked over at Lee Kangjoo. Light spilling from the screen scattered over Kangjoo’s sharp nose, his cheekbones, his long lashes, his eyes [N O V E L I G H T] fixed in one place.

This wasn’t the time to get distracted by his looks. Haejun cautiously leaned closer, bringing his lips near Kangjoo’s ear.

“If it’s not your thing, should we leave?”

“It’s interesting.”

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

“There’s nothing not okay about it.”

Maybe because of the whispering, Lee Kangjoo tilted his head toward Haejun. Their lips came close enough to brush his earlobe. Feeling his cheeks heat up, Haejun quickly pulled his head back.

Lee Kangjoo was unfazed, but Haejun only half-watched the movie after that. He couldn’t stand how aware he was of Kangjoo. When the protagonist was betrayed by a trusted ally and stabbed in the stomach, Haejun squeezed his eyes shut. Kangjoo’s face had overlapped with the character’s in his mind.

Only when the end credits rolled did he finally relax. As people filed out, Haejun stretched his legs out long and sagged back. Even the half-empty popcorn tub felt heavy, he was that drained.

He soon gathered himself and left with Lee Kangjoo. Since they were among the last out, the main hallway was relatively quiet.

“So, how was the movie?”

“Pretty good. Even if it wasn’t realistic.”

“Realistic?”

A faint smile hovered at Lee Kangjoo’s lips. Even so, there was something chilly about it.

“If you start by clearing out the low-level guys, it takes too long. You’re just giving them time to counterattack. Crushing it all at once, or taking the head first, is faster.”

There was no way the smell of blood from the movie could cross into reality, but Haejun’s nose stung anyway. It felt like Lee Kangjoo, who’d seemed closer just moments ago, had drifted farther away again. Haejun suddenly blurted out like a student raising his hand.

“I really remember that supporting actor. You know, the right-hand man who betrayed him. He was good. I think the actor’s name was Lee Honghwa or something. He looked so nice, I didn’t expect him to betray anyone.”

“It’s not like betrayal is written on someone’s face.”

“Sir, have you ever... ...never mind.”

“You mean, have I ever been betrayed?”

Bullseye. Haejun looked away and laughed awkwardly.

“No. I don’t really trust people.”

They’d reached the ticket booths. Even late at night, the place was still crowded. Careful not to bump into anyone, Haejun stuck close to Lee Kangjoo.

That was when he felt a stare boring into his cheek. Haejun turned his head toward whoever was looking at him. A woman nearby met his eyes, exclaimed “Oh!” and approached with a bright smile.

“Hey, haven’t we met somewhere before?”

The woman beside her—probably a friend—looked Haejun over with curious eyes. Unlike their lively expressions, Haejun’s face went pale. The world really was small. Of all places, running into former clients here.

The woman who spoke was his first client; the friend next to her was the next one she’d introduced. He’d slept with both of them. Most clients were embarrassed about having spent time with a male host and pretended not to recognize him, but these two were different.

“You look really familiar. ...Oh, right. It’s you.”

She was talking to Haejun, but her eyes kept scanning Lee Kangjoo. Was this good, or was he fucked?

“Is he your friend? Or your older brother?”

“N-no. He’s not my friend, he’s—”

Haejun couldn’t bring himself to say this was the client he was currently serving, and he hesitated. He needed to smooth things over, block their interest in Lee Kangjoo, and send them on their way. Putting on the bright, innocent smile clients used to call cute, he stepped in front of the women.

“We’re kind of busy right now. Noonas, I’ll 연락 you next time.”

“I wasn’t asking you.”

“Come on, don’t be like that. This hyung does something else for work. He’s very respectable.”

“Even better.”

They didn’t back down an inch. Worse, she jerked her chin at Haejun, ordering him aside with a gesture. His body, used to following orders, twitched—he nearly stepped away. Catching himself, he stood his ground.

“I’m telling you, please don’t—”

Haejun bowed his head slightly and fiddled with the bridge of his nose. His head throbbed trying to figure out how to get rid of them.

“What’s your number?”

All his effort was for nothing as the woman boldly asked Lee Kangjoo. Haejun couldn’t stop her anymore and retreated awkwardly.

Thinking about it, his own panic was kind of ridiculous. He didn’t want Lee Kangjoo to contact them, but even if he did, there was nothing Haejun could do. It was entirely up to Kangjoo.

Haejun pouted and lowered his head. At that moment, an unfamiliar weight settled over his shoulder. Pulling Haejun in close, Lee Kangjoo smiled softly.

“They’re not my type.”

The woman who’d been rejected covered her mouth with a gasp. She looked once at Haejun, crushed against Kangjoo’s side, then at Kangjoo, and seemed to understand something. She lowered the hand holding her phone.

“This is why handsome guys are the worst.”

Sighing that they were nothing but eye candy, she retreated with her friend. Once they disappeared from view, Haejun—his cheek squished into a fish mouth—wiggled and looked up. The grip on his shoulder had been so strong his flesh felt dented, like it wouldn’t spring back.

“Um, sir. About this...”

Lee Kangjoo generously let go. Haejun rubbed the sore spot. Pain and heat mingled together. It wasn’t a sensation that would fade quickly.

“You get hit on everywhere. Earlier too— guh.”

Why did his mouth move on its own and get him into trouble like this. Even though he’d been caught, he’d only been sneaking glances, so Haejun smacked his own lips with his palm in punishment.

“Why didn’t you pretend not to notice?”

“I didn’t want to interfere.”

“In what way.”

“In case you liked her and wanted to exchange numbers.”

“Ah.”

Just like that moment ago, Haejun had no right to get involved. But remembering that made his mouth feel bitter, like he’d rubbed his tongue with gall. He didn’t like Lee Kangjoo. He didn’t even dare dream of becoming something more. And yet, it felt like his heart was sinking to the bottom of the sea with a heavy rock tied to it.

Gloomy, Haejun walked with his eyes lowered. He almost ran into someone passing by, but Lee Kangjoo grabbed the back of his neck and yanked him back just in time.

“For the time being, I don’t plan on seeing anyone other than you, Mr. Cha Haejun.”

Amid the noise of the ticket booths, Lee Kangjoo’s voice rang out clearly. With his neck held at an awkward angle, Haejun’s eyes went wide as he looked up at him.

“You keep saying things that are easy to misunderstand.”

“I do?”

“Yes. You do.”

Lee Kangjoo pointed at himself with his index finger, so Haejun raised his own and pointed back. For someone who said he didn’t watch romance movies, he had a habit of casually tossing out words that made people itch.

If he did it without realizing, it was a natural talent. Or maybe Haejun was just a blind fish swimming straight into an abandoned net.

“I hate hassle, so filter it out.”

While Haejun froze, Lee Kangjoo stepped ahead. Haejun found himself staring down at the floor. Between him and Kangjoo ran a thick, straight line—clear and unmistakable, a yellow line dividing the space.

“.......”

He knew he wasn’t supposed to cross it.

It was just a guideline painted on the floor. Haejun didn’t think too hard. When Lee Kangjoo turned back to see why he wasn’t following, Haejun hurried after him and hopped right over the line.