As he handed over the indoor slippers, Yoon Jooho briefly met eyes with Song Hyunsoo.
There was definitely something behind that look, but Jooho immediately looked away and turned without saying a word.
At the end of the long hallway, Jooho veered toward the kitchen instead of the living room.
Looking back at Hyunsoo who was following, he rubbed the back of his neck and pointed toward the refrigerator with his other hand.
“Go ahead, find something to drink. Sangho hyung isn’t here… I don’t even know where anything is.”
“Okay.”
Hyunsoo headed toward the fridge intending to grab a bottle of water, and glanced casually at the kitchen island.
There were signs of someone having eaten something — half-eaten food left behind.
On a stool sat a sports bag.
“Were you eating?”
Looking closer, it wasn’t really a proper meal — just plain white chicken breast, sweet potato, and a few leafy greens.
“What is this? How can someone survive on this at your height?”
“It’s my diet.”
Jooho plopped down heavily on the stool and answered nonchalantly.
“Bulk-up diets don’t usually involve eating more than this?”
“I’m just trying to build muscle, not become some huge guy.”
Hyunsoo, having taken off his backpack and set it down, pointed at the chicken breast and sweet potato which were totally unappetizing and asked.
“When you’re dieting, you’d at least be a bit careful about what you eat… This is just something you nuked in the microwave, isn’t it?”
“It’s a ready-made meal designed to be microwaved easily.”
Watching Jooho rest his elbow on the counter and poke around the cherry tomatoes and broccoli with a fork, Hyunsoo thought that even a big eater who could polish off five bowls of jajangmyeon at once would lose their appetite here.
Jooho hadn’t even transferred the salad from the disposable container to a plate just tore open the packaging and ate directly.
Seeing my actor who I’ve admired since elementary school casually eating like this without any effort to enjoy a proper meal made my stomach churn.
“Why do you do that when your body is your asset? You care so much about your looks.”
Jooho, holding the fork backwards and spearing something between his teeth, spun around on the stool and sneered.
“I’m just a guy who only has his looks. Aside from that, what do I have?”
Confidence king, arrogance king how did he get so twisted?
Looking around the kitchen, which was clean to the point of being as bare as a model home, Hyunsoo said,
“I’ve wondered for a while, you don’t manage this house yourself, right?”
“No way.”
That’s right.
If anyone actually washed rice with dish soap, that’d be my senior.
“So then, does that person not cook for you? They could just prepare food and put it in the fridge so you could heat it up whenever.”
Jooho stopped spinning on the stool and snorted.
“Delivery food is better. I don’t eat food cooked by others in my own house. Only if I see it made right in front of me.”
“Why? Did something happen in the past?”
Jooho didn’t answer.
Instead, he speared a piece of broccoli with his fork and put it in his mouth, then began spinning on the stool again.
Watching him at the dining table, fiddling instead of eating rice, was like watching a kid who’s refusing to eat.
I wanted to give him a smack, but… I guess he must’ve had something happen at school today, so I’d let it slide.
“Shall I make something for you?”
Jooho looked up at Hyunsoo, who was standing opposite him, with a bit of interest.
“You can cook?”
“Well, not really cooking… I can make kimchi… fried… rice…”
Hyunsoo’s voice lost confidence as he ran his fingertips along the edge of the countertop.
Jooho frowned in disbelief, or as if doubting he heard correctly, and leaned toward Hyunsoo.
“What? What are you gonna make?”
“Kimchi fried rice, don’t underestimate it! Mine’s special!”
“What’s so special about it? Does it have ginseng or something?”
“I don’t fry it. I put all the ingredients in the pot together and steam it.”
“If you don’t fry it, how can you call it fried rice?”
Really, he picks apart things as meticulously as his face.
“Anyway, it’s quick. Don’t ask me to make it all the time.”
Hyunsoo took off his jacket and hung it on the chair of the round dining table beside the counter, then went to wash his hands at the sink.
“You have kimchi at home, right?”
“You’re really going to make it?”
“You need to eat warm rice to feel at ease and have peace of mind. Maybe the reason you’re always so irritable, sunbae, is because of your food. Where’s the kimchi?”
Yoon Jooho frowned but put down his fork and got up to fetch the kimchi.
The kimchi wasn’t stored in the usual 5- or 6-liter containers like in a typical household.
The glass container Jooho brought out was clearly store-bought kimchi.
His parents, who supposedly cared deeply for him, seemed oblivious to the state of their son’s fridge.
Even I, living in a rooftop room with a deposit of a thousand and rent of forty, had three types of kimchi sent from home piled up and ready to eat.
“I’m not lifting a finger.”
“There’s nothing to help with. It’s super simple. Ah, you don’t have cooked rice, right? Do you have instant rice?”
Leaning against the fridge with his arms crossed, Jooho pointed to a corner of the kitchen with his fingertip.
Song Hyunsoo began rummaging through another cabinet looking for a pot.
“In that case, you just microwave five packs of instant rice.”
“Who’s going to eat all five?”
“I’ll eat with you. For two guys, five instant rice packs for fried rice is just a snack.”
At least for Hyunsoo and Jooho, it was.
With a sigh, Jooho started microwaving the instant rice while Hyunsoo began chopping the kimchi.
The cutting board and knife gleamed as if brand new.
The soy sauce, olive oil, sesame oil, and other condiments neatly arranged in the sliding cabinets were all untouched.
It seemed Jooho never cooked.
“It’d taste better with my grandma’s kimchi.”
Muttering regretfully, Hyunsoo spread the chopped kimchi evenly on the bottom of the pot.
“By the way, are there any famous tourist spots around here?”
Jooho, peeling the packaging off the warmed instant rice, pointed at his chest and replied,
“You see, I’m a famous tourist spot.”
So annoying.
Even though it was true, it was still so annoying.
Still, it was better than him calling himself a guy with nothing but looks acting like a proud prince was more tolerable.
Jooho poured all five packs of instant rice into the pot one by one.
Having finished peeling all the packages, Jooho left the counter.
“There were some foreigners taking pictures in the alley. Were they taking pictures because this is your place?”
Jooho stopped walking and looked back.
“Are you still wandering around here?”
“Were you home when they came?”
Hyunsoo drizzled sesame oil on the pot, covered it with a lid, and placed it on the induction stove.
He set it to low heat and quickly tidied up.
Jooho, who had just lit a cigarette standing near the sofa table in the living room, moved to the opposite side of the sofa and was now on a phone call — not on a mobile, but a landline.
His face, with one hand pressing above his eyes while holding the cigarette, looked unusually tired.
Seeing his serious expression and tone, Hyunsoo stepped out of the kitchen.
“What’s going on?”
“I checked with the security office if those people are still here.”
“Why? Who are they? Aren’t they your fans?”
Jooho put one hand on his hip and nervously drew on his cigarette filter, then sneered while exhaling smoke.
“Fans… if stalking fans count as fans.”
There had been a middle-aged woman who looked quite wealthy among them, so Hyunsoo hadn’t guessed they were Jooho’s stalking fans.
The stalkers Hyunsoo had seen so far were either high school students with nothing better to do who loitered around idols’ dorms for fun after school, or professionals in their late 20s to mid-30s — usually one of those two types.
Jooho leaned against the display cabinet as he flicked ash into the ashtray on top.
“They waited at the underground parking entrance and then ran in front of my car.”
Hyunsoo couldn’t believe what he’d just heard. His response was slow to come.
“Why would they do something so dangerous?”
“To see my face.”
Jooho explained with an annoyed expression that he almost hit the parking ramp wall while slamming on the brakes and turning the wheel abruptly.
Hyunsoo stepped closer to Jooho, grabbed his broad, solid shoulders, looked him over from head to toe, then grabbed his cheeks and examined his face carefully.
“Are you hurt? Are you okay?”
He wasn’t even aware that he was touching Yoon Jooho’s body without permission.
“I’m not hurt. I did slam the horn like crazy because I was so shocked, though.”
Jooho’s voice softened because of Hyunsoo’s sudden behavior.
Someone who would blush and freak out if a hand got near his face had boldly touched Jooho’s own body first, so Jooho couldn’t help but feel stunned.
“They’re totally crazy! Who do they think they’re messing with? We’re lucky nothing happened this time, but they could’ve smashed into the wall, or even hit someone with the car! Should I call the police now? I really should!”
Hyunsoo nearly ran back to the kitchen, rummaging through the pocket of his jacket draped over the dining chair to find his phone.
“We can’t let things like this slide. We have to nip this in the bud so they never try that again.”
Without warning, Jooho’s hand grabbed Hyunsoo’s upper arm.
With a firm pull upwards, Hyunsoo looked up while still bending slightly at the waist.
“Enough.”
Jooho’s voice was as soft as his relaxed expression.
“Let’s eat.”
“If we do, then something like this might—”
Jooho tightened his grip.
“I’m hungry. You’re not gonna feed me?”
“……”
“They said it’s a special kimchi fried rice.”
Hyunsoo slowly straightened up.
Jooho, loosening his grip on Hyunsoo’s arm, quietly looked down at him from this close distance — the first time they’d stood so near, face to face.
Jooho’s breath brushed against Hyunsoo’s lips.
Neither knew where to look.
Jooho’s hand, still holding Hyunsoo’s arm, swept aside his bangs.
Holding the hair back so his forehead was fully revealed, Jooho tilted his head in curiosity.
“…What’s this?”
“Why is there something on my forehead?”
Hyunsoo looked up, as if trying to see his own forehead that way.
Jooho chuckled shortly and lightly brushed Hyunsoo’s forehead away, like teasing.
As if trying to lighten the mood of this skinship.
“Smells nice.”
Watching Jooho stroll off toward the induction stove, Hyunsoo touched his own forehead.
Was it just his imagination?
He felt like he had a slight fever.