Chapter 4

　　From a distance, Handsome Guy #1 was walking toward us with a girl.

　　Seongjae waved at them.

　　"Hey! Park Yuhan! Where are you going?"

　　It had taken me two weeks to finally learn Handsome Guy #1’s name. Park Yuhan. It definitely suited his masculine looks.

　　"Seongjae, you know that guy?"

　　"Huh? You don’t remember? He’s my friend from middle school, Park Yuhan. You two were in the same creative writing club."

　　"He’s that kid?"

　　Without realizing it, I stared hard at Park Yuhan. He had stopped right in front of me, glaring down with a sulky expression.

　　"What are you looking at?"

　　This rude bastard is Yuhan?

　　The Park Yuhan I knew was a scrawny, skinny boy who wore round glasses, just like Seongjae. But the man standing in front of me now had to be at least six-foot-three, built massive and solid all over. This guy had the hulking frame of a physical education major—and he was supposed to be that little kid?

　　To think I’d run into someone I know from real life… in a dream.

　　Park Yuhan had been a grade below me in middle school in the real world, too. Back then, we’d been in the writing club together, and he used to cling to me. He was so incredibly affectionate—following me everywhere like a lost puppy.

　　In reality, Yuhan was one year younger than me and four years older than Seongjae. But since he went to the same taekwondo academy as Seongjae, the two of them had been close.

　　Yet here, he was the exact same age as Seongjae. It really hit me again: this place was definitely a dream.

　　"Wow. It’s been forever."

　　Right around the time I graduated middle school, Yuhan had moved to the U.S. to study abroad. We’d lost touch after that, so I never imagined we’d meet again like this.

　　"So you finally remembered me, huh?"

　　Yuhan spat the words out curtly, still wearing that sulky expression. I’d been wondering why he was acting so hostile—turns out it was just because I hadn’t recognized him. Well, fair enough. If the older guy you used to follow around completely blanked on your face, that would sting.

　　"Yuhan! It’s been so long. How’ve you been?"

　　I threw an arm around his shoulders in a casual side hug. He was so tall that even at my own six-foot height, it took genuine effort—my arm had to lift uncomfortably high. But the second my arm landed on him, Park Yuhan’s brows shot together, and he shoved me off.

　　"Don’t touch me like that."

　　"You little punk, you’re prickly. You used to trail after me like a baby chick, always clamoring for my attention."

　　"When did I ever do that?"

　　Yuhan’s face flushed bright red as he flared up. Seongjae chimed in from the side, defending him.

　　"Yeah, when did Yuhan ever do that? It’s true he followed you around, but calling him a ‘baby chick’ is kind of harsh."

　　Seeing Seongjae instantly take Yuhan’s side, it clicked.

　　So this is the guy Seongjae likes.

　　He’d said his crush had a filthy mouth and talked rough, and the shoe fit perfectly. Still—looking at this towering, hulking guy and thinking he was cute? Love really was blinding.

　　Then the girl standing next to them, cute and bright-looking, spoke up.

　　"Hello! We’re in the same club as Seongjae. My name’s Kim Nayeon. I’d only ever seen you in photos, but you’re really handsome."

　　"Oh, hi. I’m Han Taewoon."

　　If this tiny, cheerful girl wasn’t the "filthy-mouthed" or "rough" one, then Seongjae’s crush was confirmed. My little brother really was gay.

　　It’s okay. I understand completely.

　　"By the way, Seongjae, you already joined a club?"

　　At my question, Seongjae nodded with a slightly reluctant expression.

　　"Wait, when did you do that? If you joined a club, you should’ve told me! I want to join whatever you’re in."

　　"You want to join without even knowing what it is?"

　　"It’s a club my little brother joined. Obviously, I have to join too."

　　"Nope. Go find your own."

　　"Come on, why are you being like this?"

　　Nayeon lightly jabbed the prickly Seongjae and smiled brightly at me. "Taewoon, we’re a creative writing club. Are you interested in writing?"

　　"I was in a writing club in middle school. I like writing."

　　"You still write?"

　　Yuhan reacted the strongest to that. His eyes widened in surprise—and there was a faint glimmer of hope in them.

　　"No. I stopped a long time ago."

　　For a split second, I debated whether writing reviews for BL novels counted as actual writing, but I decided against it. No matter what, I couldn’t reveal that dark past.

　　It wasn’t that I was ashamed of Seongjae’s hobby. But that was tied to my real life. And hadn’t I already vowed to keep reality out of this dream world as much as possible?

　　"Thought so."

　　Yuhan looked like something had severely annoyed him again, his mood plummeting in real-time. I immediately started worrying about Seongjae’s future. You really like a guy whose mood swings are this erratic? I vote no on this relationship.

　　"Hey, Han Seongjae. Let’s go."

　　"Huh? But I was gonna walk with—"

　　"Why does your brother matter?"

　　Seongjae looked torn, glancing back and forth between me and Yuhan, before stepping over to Yuhan’s side. I was a little shell-shocked. Seongjae, I know young love is intoxicating and all, but could you at least pretend to deliberate a little longer? Ditching me in three flat seconds hurts.

　　"Sorry. I’m heading home first."

　　Nayeon, who had clearly been reading the room, bowed politely.

　　"Goodbye. See you next time."

　　"Kim Nayeon, you come too. What ‘next time’ is there to see him?"

　　Before I could even get a word in, Yuhan snapped at her. He positioned Seongjae on his right, Nayeon on his left, brushed right past me, and marched off. Watching the three of them leave, their backs leisurely drifting away, I was completely dumbfounded.

　　"Seriously, what is his problem?"

　　That attitude—he acted like he was jealous. What was that?

　　It was like he was trying to separate Seongjae from me as fast as humanly possible.

　　Then, a wild thought flashed through my mind.

　　Wait. Is he gay too?

　　Does that mean the feelings are mutual?

　　"Are those two mutually crushing on each other and just painfully flailing around right now?"

　　If that was the case, it completely explained why Yuhan was acting so sharp with me. Tops were notorious for having hearts the size of thimbles. Weren’t they the crazy, over-possessive bastards who would even view a biological brother as competition?

　　Or is it the other way around? Seongjae could be the top.

　　There were short tops and massive bottoms in the world, so Seongjae could absolutely be the top while Yuhan was the bottom.

　　Wait. I was getting sidetracked again. Who topped and who bottomed—why did that even matter?! Even if they were in a relationship where they switched, I’d fully support them. When you’ve read 1,321 novels about gay guys having sex, you learn to accept literally any preference.

　　"Then I just have to help them out."

　　I decided right then and there to become Cupid. Seongjae’s happiness was my happiness. Sure, Yuhan’s garbage personality bothered me a little. But tops were always ice-cold to the rest of the world and endlessly warm to their bottoms. He’d probably treat Seongjae like royalty.

　　The fastest way to break through a mutual flailing phase.

　　There was only one answer.

* * *

　　Before walking into the deafeningly loud bar, I took a deep breath. Just thinking about how many gay couples might be lurking inside made my vision swim, but for Seongjae’s sake, I could endure this.

　　Okay. Let’s go.

　　I slid the door open and stepped inside. People were shouting over each other, playing drinking games at every table. Were all college-town bars this chaotic? It was way too loud.

　　But I couldn’t forget today’s mission. I gathered my scattered focus and headed toward a long row of tables pushed together in the back. As I got closer, a gentle-looking, handsome guy raised his hand and waved.

　　"Hey, you made it!"

　　"Yeah."

　　This handsome guy flashing me an eye-smile was the exact same dude who had casually rubbed his cigarette out on my clothes at the freshman welcome party. His name was Na Hangyeol. His name and face were soft, but it was painfully obvious he was a slippery snake underneath.

　　I was uncomfortable around Hangyeol, but today I absolutely needed his help. He was the class representative for the Korean Education department, and I’d heard he had connections in a bunch of other majors. I’d come to this drinking session with one clear goal: I needed to get close to this guy, a social butterfly.

　　I’ll ask him to set up a group blind date.

　　In a mutual-flailing narrative, the absolute fastest way to push things forward was to provoke the top’s jealousy. Judging by Yuhan’s prickly, abrasive personality and his general attitude, there was a high probability he was an oblivious top. And for that specific archetype, nothing worked quite like jealousy.

　　So, the master plan was a group blind date. The second Yuhan found out Seongjae had gone to one, he’d lose his damn mind. And then he’d confront Seongjae:

　　"Why the hell are you going to something like that?"

　　And Seongjae, all fired up, would shoot back:

　　"Why do you care? Are you my boyfriend or something?"

　　"Can I be? Your boyfriend. If I’m your boyfriend, will you stop going to places like that?"

　　And then the two of them would share a scorching, passionate night…

　　For sale: one brain, untainted by BL. I never in a million years thought I’d end up conjuring filthy delusions like this about my own little brother. I seriously wanted to die. The self-loathing was suffocating.

　　I really had read too much BL. While I was asking about a blind date, I should honestly join one too. I needed to hurry up, get a girlfriend, and rid myself of this agony, for God’s sake.

　　"Taewoon, what are you spacing out for? Sit next to me."

　　"Huh? Yeah. Right."

　　I snapped out of it at Hangyeol’s voice and took the seat beside him. Before I could even shrug off my coat, Hangyeol filled my glass to the brim.

　　"First shot goes down the hatch, no sips."

　　"Haha, really? Okay."

　　I poured the soju down my throat, the bitter liquid burning my tongue.

　　"Ugh, it’s bitter."

　　"If it’s bitter, eat this. Say ah."

　　Hangyeol popped a puffed rice snack straight into my mouth. While I chewed, my glass was magically full again.

　　"From the second shot on, let’s drink while we play games."

　　"Games? I’ve never played before."

　　"Drinking games are something you learn by playing."

　　"Hangyeol’s right! Let’s start easy—the Nunchi Game. One!"

　　I heard Two! Three! Four! rapid-fire from all around the table, but I just sat there blankly. Huh? What? And inevitably, I was the last one left. Everyone started screaming and making a massive scene.

　　"Okay, Taewoon. Chug it."

　　I felt an inexplicable, ominous chill from Hangyeol as he handed me the glass, still wearing that perfectly crafted eye-smile.

　　But a penalty was a penalty, so I drank it.

　　"You drink pretty well. What’s your limit?"

　　"Not a lot. About a bottle and a half."

　　"Hm."

　　After gauging my limit, Hangyeol ruthlessly ran game after game that I didn’t know. Since it was my first time at a chaotic college drinking session, I lost constantly. I downed every penalty shot shoved in my face, and before long, I was way, way past my limit.

　　"Ugh, I need the bathroom for a second."

　　Nausea surged up my throat as I bolted for the restroom. I stumbled my way there, yanked the door open, and came face-to-face with a gay couple in the middle of a deep, aggressive make-out session.

　　"Sorry to interrupt, but I really need to use the toilet."

　　After politely asking permission from the couple who looked seconds away from going all the way, I practically hugged the porcelain bowl and threw up everything inside me. All I could taste was cheap alcohol, and my throat felt like it was on fire.

　　"Ugh… I drank way too much."

　　I’d originally planned to read the room a bit more and smoothly bring up the group blind date to Na Hangyeol, but the world was spinning so violently I didn’t think I could stay upright. I should probably call it a night and try again next time.

　　I dragged myself out of the stall and was rinsing my mouth at the sink when the door creaked open. Hangyeol approached me from behind. The kissing couple had disappeared long ago. Hangyeol handed me a paper towel, his voice laced with concern.

　　"Are you okay? You went way past your limit. Do you want to head home now? Where do you live?"

　　"No, I’m okay. I feel a lot better after throwing up."

　　"Yeah?"

　　Smiling, I wiped my mouth with the towel he provided. Considering how incredibly kind he was being, I figured maybe he was a better guy than I’d originally assumed.

　　"Do you want to step outside for some fresh air, then?"

　　"Yeah, I probably should."

　　The damp, muggy air of the bathroom was only making my nausea worse, so I stepped outside with Hangyeol to get some air. The cold wind bit at my face, cutting through the alcohol haze and clearing my head a fraction.

　　"I’m gonna smoke. That okay?"

　　"Yeah."

　　Hangyeol slipped his hand into the pocket of his leather jacket, then furrowed his brow.

　　"Damn, I forgot my lighter. Hold on. I’ll go borrow one from the guys inside."

　　"I should go back in and grab my coat, too," I said, shivering. "It’s freezing."

　　"Don’t. Just wear mine. Fighting your way back in there is a pain."

　　I tried to refuse, insisting that I was fine, but Hangyeol wouldn’t take no for an answer. He stripped off his jacket, draped it over my shoulders, and headed back inside. As I slipped my arms into the warm sleeves, a wave of guilt washed over me.

　　I shouldn’t have judged him based on my own prejudices.

　　Honestly, going by his looks and demeanor alone, he was just a normal guy, pleasantly handsome, easygoing, and incredibly kind. The real problem was that I’d read way too much BL.

　　Still berating myself for my biased assumptions, I adjusted the jacket and noticed a heavy weight sagging in the pocket.

　　"Huh? I think there’s a lighter in here," I muttered to myself.

　　I reached in to check. The size and smooth texture definitely felt like a lighter. I yanked it out, turning to jog after Hangyeol and let him know he didn’t need to borrow one, but…

　　"Holy shit!"

　　The object in my hand was definitely not a lighter.

　　It was a vibrator.