After the session at Jiho's house, I decided to take a walk and clear my head. The conversation had been heavier than usual, and I needed the fresh air. Just as I was passing a cozy-looking restaurant nearby, the faint clinking of glasses and cheerful chatter tempted me inside.
The warmth of the place enveloped me as I sat down at a table near the window, ordering a small bottle of soju and a plate of kimchi. It was comforting, a simple indulgence to unwind.
As I was halfway through my drink, a familiar voice called out, "You're still drinking alone?"
I turned to see Kang Ji-uk, my childhood friend. He smiled, his easygoing charm instantly lifting my mood. We hadn't seen each other in months, but it felt like no time had passed.
"You know me," I replied, grinning as he pulled up a chair.
Ji-uk waved over the server and ordered more soju. Soon, the table was filled with small dishes of food and enough soju to make us lose track of time. We laughed and reminisced, sharing stories from when we were kids, the kind that only old friends would remember.
By the third bottle, our laughter had become louder, our words a little slurred, and the world outside felt distant. Just as Ji-uk was trying to tell a story about our school days, a shadow passed over our table.
I glanced up to see Jiho standing there, his tall frame silhouetted against the restaurant lights. His features, sharp and striking with a well-defined jawline and intense eyes, seemed even more imposing in that moment. He wasn't smiling.
"What are you doing here?" Jiho asked, his voice steady but cold.
I blinked, trying to process his sudden appearance. "Jiho? What are you—"
"Let's go," he interrupted, his gaze flicking between me and Ji-uk.
Ji-uk raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. "Hey, who's this guy? Your boyfriend?"
Jiho didn't respond, but his jaw tightened, and he stepped closer. "You've had enough. Come on."
I felt a tug of embarrassment mixed with confusion. "I'm fine, Jiho. I don't need a babysitter."
"You're not fine," he said firmly, reaching for my arm. His grip was gentle, but there was no mistaking the strength behind it.
Ji-uk chuckled, leaning back in his chair. "You should listen to him. He looks like he means business."
Before I could argue further, Jiho pulled me to my feet, steadying me with a hand on my elbow. His touch was warm, and for a moment, I felt oddly comforted despite my annoyance.
---
The walk back to his house was quiet. Jiho's face was unreadable, but there was a tension in his shoulders that hadn't been there before. I wanted to ask why he was so upset, but the words wouldn't come out.
When we arrived, he opened the door and gestured for me to go in. I hesitated, but his stern expression left little room for argument.
Inside, he finally spoke. "You shouldn't drink that much, especially with people like him."
"People like him?" I repeated, offended. "Ji-uk is my friend. He's harmless."
Jiho sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I don't trust him. That's all."
"Why do you care so much?" I asked, crossing my arms.
He looked at me, his gaze softening for the first time that evening. "Because I do."
For a moment, neither of us said anything. The weight of his words hung in the air, and I could feel my defenses crumbling.
"You don't have to take care of me, Jiho," I said quietly.
"I know," he replied, his voice just as soft. "But I want to."
---
Jiho leaned back against the couch, his gaze steady. "If you really want to drink soju, do it with me. Not with someone like Ji-uk."
I raised an eyebrow, still feeling the sting of his earlier words. "What's wrong with Ji-uk? He's been my friend forever. He's harmless."
"He's not harmless when it comes to you," Jiho said bluntly, pouring a glass of water and handing it to me. "You don't see the way he looks at you."
I rolled my eyes, taking the glass. "You're overreacting."
Jiho let out a small, frustrated sigh. "Maybe. But I don't want you to end up in some situation you can't handle because of him—or anyone else."
The room fell quiet for a moment, save for the faint hum of the refrigerator. I watched Jiho as he stood up and walked to the kitchen, his movements deliberate. He returned with a fresh bottle of soju and two glasses.
"What are you doing?" I asked, narrowing my eyes.
He set the bottle down on the coffee table with a soft thunk. "If you want to drink, we'll drink. Together. Right here."
"You're serious?"
"Dead serious," Jiho said, pouring two glasses. He handed me one and clinked it gently against mine. "Cheers."
I couldn't help but laugh at his sudden shift. "Cheers, then."
We took a sip, the sharp burn of the soju warming my throat. It wasn't long before the glasses were empty, and Jiho poured another round.
You know, this isn't exactly standard therapist behavior."I said.
Ji-ho raised an eyebrow, a playful smirk tugging at his lips. "Then don't think of it as therapy. Think of it as… letting loose."
"That's not helping your case," I muttered, taking the glass he handed me.
We clinked our glasses, the sharp ting breaking the silence. I took a cautious sip, while Ji-ho downed his in one go, letting out a small, satisfied hum.
"Ahh…" he exhaled, shaking his head slightly. "Nothing like it."
I couldn't help but smile at his boyish expression. "You seem… different tonight."
"Different how?" Ji-ho asked, his voice dipping lower as he leaned closer.
"Less guarded," I replied, my eyes meeting his for a moment longer than I intended.
Ji-ho's gaze didn't waver. Instead, he let out a soft chuckle, almost a hum. "Maybe that's what happens when you're around the right person."
---
We'd gone through another bottle of soju before I realized how late it was. My head felt light, and my cheeks were warm, though whether it was from the alcohol or Ji-ho's lingering glances, I couldn't tell.
"Yoon-seo…" Ji-ho said, his voice quieter now. There was something in his tone that made me pause.
"Yes?" I replied, my own voice softer.
He hesitated, running a hand through his dark hair, his fingers brushing the nape of his neck. "You're… not like anyone else I've met."
I let out a nervous laugh, unsure how to respond. "That sounds like the soju talking."
"It's not," Ji-ho said firmly, his eyes locking onto mine. "You're different. And I don't mean just because you're my therapist."
I opened my mouth to respond, but the words caught in my throat. The room suddenly felt too small, the air heavy. Ji-ho leaned closer, his breath warm against my cheek.
"Ji-ho…" I murmured, my voice barely audible.
He didn't answer. Instead, he reached out, his hand brushing against mine. The touch sent a jolt through me, and I pulled back instinctively, only to find myself pressed against the armrest of the couch.
"Sorry," he said quickly, though his voice lacked conviction. He let out a small, awkward laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. "I guess the alcohol's making me… bold."
I swallowed hard, my heart pounding in my chest. "We should… probably stop."
Ji-ho nodded, though he didn't move away. "Yeah… we probably should."
But neither of us moved. The silence between us was filled with the sound of shallow breaths and soft, nervous hums.
"I mean it," I said, though my voice was weaker now.
"So do I," Ji-ho replied, his lips curving into a small, teasing smile.
Before I could respond, his hand moved again, this time brushing against my shoulder. The touch was light, almost hesitant, but it was enough to make my breath hitch.
"Yoon-seo…" he said again, his voice barely above a whisper.
"What?" I managed to say, though my voice cracked slightly.
"You're beautiful," he said simply, his words slurring slightly but still carrying a weight that made my chest tighten.
I let out a shaky laugh, trying to brush it off. "You're drunk."
"Not that drunk," Ji-ho said, his gaze steady.
For a moment, we just sat there, the space between us charged with something unspoken. Ji-ho let out a soft hum, almost a sigh, and leaned back against the couch, his hand dropping away.
"I'm sorry," he said finally, his voice softer now. "I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable."
"You didn't," I said quickly, though my voice betrayed my nerves.
"Good," Ji-ho replied, his lips curving into a small smile. "Because I don't think I could handle it if I did."