Chapter 8

Judging from the piles of evidence Jaeyoung had from past experience, the loyalty of an underclassman could easily be bought with the right amount of kindness and the occasional meal. There was only one person he knew who was an exception to this rule: a certain weirdo who ate food like it was simply fuel that would pass through his digestive system. He’d chew up pizza with complete apathy, like it might as well have been made of dirt. Risotto was no different—he’d shovel it into his mouth like it was the most bland thing he’d ever had the misfortune of eating. And in Jaeyoung’s opinion, the risotto in question had been pretty damn decent. It should’ve blown the weirdo’s mind after exclusively eating at the dining hall, which didn’t exactly provide a five-star dining experience. At this point, Jaeyoung had been in college for five years. He was more or less an expert at making underclassmen like him—he’d even started specializing his approach based on his target’s gender. Guys were easy enough: order them some takeout and do a few skateboard tricks, and they were usually sold. Girls, on the other hand, were different. You had to get them food as well, but you also had to interact with them with relative frequency. To talk with them and make an effort to smile as they spoke. In that sense, Sangwoo didn’t really match his previous experiences of either gender. Jaeyoung had tried literally everything he could think of to win that weirdo over. Admittedly, he hadn’t quite been able to suppress his desire to mess with the guy on a certain number of occasions, but he’d truly done his best not to provoke him. He’d limited his vocabulary to words that wouldn’t set the weirdo off, presented him with his favorite coffee every single day to help him maintain his precious routine, and basically carried their entire Intermediate Chinese skit on his back. He’d even drawn a caricature of the guy—although it’d had the opposite effect than the one he’d intended—and escorted him all the way home on his skateboard, which was basically his finisher move. There was literally nothing more he could’ve done. And yet… “I hope you have a nightmare.” …shockingly enough, none of it had worked. Initially, Jaeyoung had been so frustrated that he’d almost given up on the jerk entirely, but then he’d remembered the effort he’d already poured into winning the weirdo over. Determined, he’d come at the challenge with renewed vigor. If he’s gonna keep acting like a robot, I’ll just have to approach him like one. The idea came to Jaeyoung one Sunday as he was watching soccer on his garbage spare laptop, which was slower than a snail. Sure, taking apart his own laptop in order to have a reason to talk to Sangwoo could be seen as being obsessive, but he refused to give up on something once he’d started. Besides, if he straight-out asked the weirdo to format his computer, Jaeyoung knew the guy would turn him down right away. If he came up with another plausible issue, on the other hand… He’d grabbed all the necessary materials and headed off to the enemy’s base: the internet café. Just as Jaeyoung had expected, the weirdo’s eyes had started to sparkle as soon as he began working on the laptop—an expression in stark contrast to the disinterest he treated his fellow humans with. It was kind of sexy, seeing him in his element. I guess this is why people are attracted to competence. Jaeyoung had leaned against the counter and watched Sangwoo work for a long time, his interest piqued. When the weirdo announced that he’d formatted and optimized the system—without Jaeyoung even asking him to do it—he’d found the guy kind of…cute, was the word that came to mind. It was impossible to explain, honestly. Some people had the same sort of adorableness about them as a puppy, kitten, or even a rabbit, but not Sangwoo. Even so…something about him struck Jaeyoung as cute. Being impulsive and free-spirited was something Jaeyoung took pride in, which meant he and the weirdo were polar opposites. The guy acted like he had his whole life already planned out, and even worse, he refused to ever deviate from his annoying schedule. Honestly, Jaeyoung would bet money that if Sangwoo woke up one day and realized that everybody else in the world had disappeared, the weirdo would still wait for the light to turn green before he crossed the road. In the past, Jaeyoung would have ignored someone like Sangwoo. When he’d first started getting to know him, he’d found the guy’s little habits and mannerisms ridiculous. Somewhere along the way, however, he’d started to appreciate them as something that made the weirdo unique. The way Sangwoo always answered his questions, even though he acted like it was the last thing he wanted to do; the way he tried so hard to complete his little tasks; even the way his Chinese pronunciation was horrendous despite his impeccable spelling and grammar… Jaeyoung found it all cute. Even the guy’s appearance was fascinating—his pale skin was such a sharp contrast to his all-black outfits and the way he was such a stickler for rules. In Jaeyoung’s imagination, Sangwoo was like a cuddly little fawn that had mutated to have shadowy black attributes and could now use a computer keyboard—maybe in a cyberpunk-style world set after the apocalypse. And despite everything, he didn’t think anything was wrong. Honestly, it was only natural that Jaeyoung was attracted to the weirdo. He was an artist, after all—how could he not be drawn to a creature of contrasts that looked entirely different every time one of its layers was peeled away? But then things had started spiraling. An unsettled feeling had crept over him. Sure, it was totally fine for an upperclassman to find an underclassman cute, but where was he supposed to draw the line? Obviously, thinking the weirdo was adorable for scribbling on his nose with a marker during class was fine. But what was he supposed to do with this craving to sink his teeth into the pale skin at the guy’s nape? Jaeyoung had always wanted to see what Sangwoo looked like without the hat that had seemed to be glued to his head. But when that desire had been fulfilled, he’d been overcome by a ravenous need for more. He’d wanted to strip the weirdo of his jacket, shirt, shoes, and socks in order to find the answers to a variety of questions: Were his shoulders as skinny as the rest of his body? What did his toes look like? How much body hair did he have? What color were his nipples? You’re completely right, Sangwoo. I am the scum of the earth. It was a good thing that Sangwoo wasn’t a mind reader—if he’d gotten a glimpse of Jaeyoung’s perverted thoughts, he would’ve reached for his phone immediately and called the police on him. Jaeyoung had polished his “nice upperclassman” act even as his thoughts had spun further and further out of control. Fortunately, maintaining the facade was as easy as breathing. He just had to use a low, gentle voice, keep a smile pasted on his face, and lighten his intonation at the ends of his sentences. Seriously—that was all it took to make most people think he was the nicest guy in the world. Sangwoo had been no exception. His struggle to hate the green coat version of Jaeyoung as much as he did the red puffer jacket version had been palpable. Jaeyoung had to admit, though, it had been pretty childish of him to snap at the girl who hung out with the weirdo. “Well, it’s just… You seem to have more makeup on than the last time I saw you, that’s all.” A part of him hated himself for hurling that line at her. It was such a cliché, mean girl thing to say. But at the same time, another part of him had thought: That’s what you get for acting like you’re his girlfriend. It was only later that he’d realized she was six whole years younger than him, which meant he’d been one-sidedly feuding with a girl who’d been a little kid while he was in high school. The entire thing with Sangwoo had started as a stupid joke, but somehow, without Jaeyoung realizing it, it seemed to have spiraled into something much more bizarre and meaningful. Around that time, Jaeyoung had started contemplating whether he was romantically attracted to Sangwoo. Sure, the guy was a weirdo, but Jaeyoung had always been attracted to people who piqued his curiosity. The only problem was…well, there were too many problems. For one, Jaeyoung wasn’t going to be around for very long. He’d applied to the same grad school that had already accepted him last semester, and judging by the tone of their emails, it seemed like a done deal in his favor. The biggest issue was that Sangwoo was a man. The weirdo’s gender itself wasn’t the problem—once, a few years back, Jaeyoung had slept with a cute, petite man on a whim when he’d been traveling in Europe. It was just that he’d never felt the desire to go on a date or get into a relationship with one. And while he wasn’t against the idea…with Sangwoo Choo? The robotic weirdo who malfunctioned at the mere thought of two guys going to a movie together? No matter how much Jaeyoung thought about it, he always came to the same conclusion: It wasn’t going to work out. Funnily enough, that had actually inspired him to throw caution to the wind—why not, when they were never going to develop into anything anyway? And so, despite knowing it was being ill-received, he’d kept poking and prodding at Sangwoo under the guise of a nice upperclassman. Initially, he’d only planned to mess with the weirdo for a few days. But before he’d known it, those days had turned into a week, then two weeks. As the time to drop his unnecessary classes had neared, Jaeyoung had even found himself feeling slightly disappointed—time really did fly by when you were having fun. Although he’d once hoped for more, it’d still been pretty gratifying to see his and the weirdo’s relationship coalesce into something closer to a friendship. Maybe that was why he’d poured so much effort into the stupid skit for Intermediate Chinese. He’d not only come up with the scenario and put together the costumes and props, he’d done all the script translation and edits, too, along with printing out the documents and even helping Sangwoo with his pronunciation. Considering the project was for an elective course, putting in that kind of elbow grease had been kind of unprecedented for Jaeyoung. But even after all that, he hadn’t realized how screwed he was until the day of the skit. Jaeyoung had set ten alarms the night before, just in case he didn’t wake up, so he’d successfully headed over to campus on time with a bundle of costumes and props. That was when he’d seen Sangwoo come walking down the hallway. The weirdo had marched forward like he was being graded on his posture, even though there had been no one around but Jaeyoung to see. Jaeyoung’s heart had skipped a beat. His eyes had devoured Sangwoo’s outfit, completely entranced—the old, collared navy shirt, the pair of black pants with the tiny fold at the ankles, the black baseball cap that Jaeyoung had an immense desire to send up in flames… Nothing about the man should’ve been attractive, and yet the sight of him had managed to send butterflies fluttering through Jaeyoung’s stomach. And so, he’d just stood there, utterly dumbfounded—wearing a queue wig, of all things!—feeling distinctly like his life just turned into some cheesy romcom. The rupture had occurred after the skit. Foolishly enough, Jaeyoung had thought Sangwoo might open up to him a bit more. But when the weirdo had taken his offer to watch a movie together and had thrown it right back in his face, he’d realized just how wrong he was. Did the idiot think he was trying to harass or kidnap him or something? It was the furthest thing from the truth—Jaeyoung had simply wanted was to see how Sangwoo’s expressionless face looked in the dark, staring at a movie screen. After everything he’d done for that jerk, couldn’t he have just said yes? Although, if Jaeyoung was being honest with himself…Sangwoo wasn’t in the wrong. Infuriating as it was, he rarely ever erred. Was there really a reason for two guys to go to the movies together, especially when one of them found being around the other a chore? Until that point, Jaeyoung had handled the weirdo’s rejections with a playful smile—but something had been different about that one. Faced with the unfortunate realization that everything he’d done had been for absolutely nothing, Jaeyoung had completely flown off the handle. Why exactly was it so hard for him to put on a mask around Sangwoo? Jaeyoung didn’t get it—especially considering his acting was so good he could convince most people that he was some kind of saint. But whatever the case, the consequence of letting it slip had been the disintegration of every bit of the relationship he and the weirdo had managed to build—not that there’d been much of one in the first place. Once he’d gotten back to his apartment, Jaeyoung had contemplated the situation—but he hadn’t been able to stop arguing with himself. Part of him had just wanted to blow the whole thing off and say: Whatever. If he hates my guts so much, I guess I’ll get lost. But another part just kept shaking its head and insisting they at least end things on good terms. In the end, the thought that emerged victorious was some Frankenstein combination of both, fueled by his selfish desire to see Sangwoo again. If this ends, it’ll be on my terms. The following day, Jaeyoung had gone to class as usual. His plan had been to walk up to Sangwoo before Embedded Systems, nonchalantly shove a movie ticket into his hand, and swagger away. That way, he’d be able to salvage some of his pride, though most of the damage had already been done. But the weirdo had never shown up. Realizing Sangwoo was planning on skipping class, Jaeyoung had been overwhelmed by a sense of betrayal. He knew how obsessed that jerk was with maintaining a pristine attendance record. It wasn’t like he’d asked to hold his hand—he’d only wanted to watch a damn movie with him! Unable to contain his injured pride, Jaeyoung had raced over to Sangwoo’s apartment and started making a scene. Once upon a time, he’d wanted the weirdo to see him as a respectable upperclassman, but that ship sailed far, far away the moment he started banging on Sangwoo’s door. All he’d been able to do to hide his disappointment and mangled pride was to declare he never wanted to see the dipshit again—just like he had after their first confrontation in the internet café. After that incident, Jaeyoung had only gone to campus on Wednesdays for his godforsaken Ethics class. And while he was there, he made a concerted effort to stay the hell out of Sangwoo’s path. He’d filled the rest of his time with drinking, playing pool, bowling, clubbing, gaming, and going to the movies with semi-flings—and before he knew it, two Wednesdays had passed. He’d managed to forget all about that weirdo! Although, he had looked at the selfie he’d taken of the two of them about fifteen separate times… But then, out of nowhere, Sangwoo had appeared at Olive Tree during his shift. The weirdo must’ve been out of his mind to show up here after Jaeyoung had told him he never wanted to see his face again. It was too much—he saw red. Overcome with frustration and rage, Jaeyoung had ducked into the kitchen and stood with his back against the wall for a few minutes. Eventually, he’d finally cooled off. Think about this logically, he’d told himself. It was highly likely that Sangwoo didn’t mean anything by popping up at his place of work. He didn’t keep any data deemed useless in his precise system, after all. There was no way he still remembered that Jaeyoung worked at some Italian restaurant. Plus, Jihye had been there, too. It was obvious the two of them were on a cute little date. Jaeyoung could see it now: The next time they walked into the restaurant, they’d be holding hands. At some point, they’d wind up sleeping together, and then the wedding invitations would start showing up in the mail. Before long, Jihye would be giggling about their baby. Jaeyoung had told the owner of the restaurant he needed a break. Stepping outside, he’d leaned against the side of the building and pulled out a cigarette. One of his friends called him, but none of their words registered. He knew he must sound distracted, but found he didn’t really care. The cigarette tasted particularly bitter. Then Jaeyoung glanced up, and realization hit him—Sangwoo had followed him out of the restaurant. The weirdo had an incredibly determined look on his face for some reason, like he was about to toss down a glove and challenge Jaeyoung to a duel. “Hey.” The gears turned slowly in Jaeyoung’s head, creaking and groaning. He couldn’t remember the last time Sangwoo had actually approached him first. “Tell them you’re busy and hang up. I have something important to say.” The weirdo’s stern tone left no room for argument. Feeling like a new recruit to the military, Jaeyoung quickly promised his friend he’d call him back and hung up. He had no idea what Sangwoo had to say—maybe the guy had come to inform him he’d be suing for emotional damage? Honestly, Jaeyoung wouldn’t have been surprised. There was a moment of silence. Then he asked the weirdo, “What is it?” “I want to talk to you, Jaeyoung.” “What…?” He had to be hallucinating. How else could he explain Sangwoo Choo addressing him in a civil manner? All the cold rejections Sangwoo had previously tossed in his face flashed through his mind. “I can when they’re an asshole.” “I only have a sister.” “I’ll pass. Also, stop acting so chummy with me.” Even now, Sangwoo’s voice was impassive as he said, “Let’s develop the game together. I need a skilled designer.” Jaeyoung nearly scoffed in disbelief. It was clear the weirdo didn’t think his offer would be rejected. Did he seriously expect Jaeyoung to just toss everything aside and throw himself into the project with sudden vigor, shouting something like “Yes! Let’s do this!”? Although, actually… Jaeyoung was struck by a sudden realization. Sangwoo literally didn’t understand what usually happened in a relationship after two people had an argument, nor did he know how difficult it was for those involved to reconcile. “I’m confident in my abilities to develop the game. Working with me will also fund your study-abroad experience, not to mention provide you with an excellent addition to your portfolio. I can work with any concepts or designs you’ve been wanting to try. I promise you won’t be disappointed.” When the hell did this asshole become a door-to-door salesman? Jaeyoung blinked in disbelief, then glared at the weirdo, who was standing there with his fists clenched dramatically at his sides for some reason, like a comic book hero ready to face down a supervillain. “Just…hold up,” Jaeyoung said, raising one hand to stop Sangwoo from continuing. He needed to backtrack for a moment. “What did you just say?” “I said I needed a skilled designer.” Jaeyoung shook his head. “No, no, before that.” “What?” “You called me by my name, and nicely at that.” Sangwoo immediately fell silent and ducked his head slightly. The rim of his black cap covered his face. Then, he said, “It was a slip of the tongue.” They both fell silent. Jaeyoung’s mind was reeling. Why had that weirdo decided to play nice all of a sudden after obsessively refusing to for so long? And that wasn’t even the most confusing thing the guy had said—what the hell had driven him to try and recruit Jaeyoung for a project after treating him like radioactive waste? Abruptly, Sangwoo looked up at him, his eyes gleaming rebelliously. “Is there any reason I can’t be so familiar with you? Everyone else is.” Forcing himself to remain nonchalant, Jaeyoung dropped his cigarette on the ground and put it out with the heel of his shoe. His palms were positively dripping with sweat, his heart about to pound through his ribcage. “Yeah, well, you’re an exception.” Because I can’t have you giving me a full-on heart attack. “Fine, then.” Yet another awkward silence stretched between them. Sangwoo glared at the wall, pouting. There’s something seriously wrong with me, Jaeyoung thought. How could he, even now, think the weirdo looked adorable? Forcing himself to look down at the ground, he focused instead on trying to figure out why Sangwoo had sought him out so randomly. But the answer was really pretty simple: Sangwoo needed him. Sangwoo was programmed to do things with maximum efficiency. Their big, ugly fight was probably only a minor obstacle—one that was basically nonexistent—compared with his need to secure a competent collaborator. In a way, the guy’s inability to hold a grudge was admirable. But Jaeyoung was a human, not a robot. So what if Sangwoo was confident in his programming abilities? The one Jaeyoung wasn’t confident in was himself—who knew if he’d be able to keep it together, working with that weirdo? His pride had already been ripped to shreds and flushed down the toilet. Sangwoo could act like he hadn’t treated Jaeyoung like shit if he wanted, but it was too late for Jaeyoung. The critical blow had already been dealt. Furthermore, Jaeyoung had already spent two weeks trying to suppress his feelings and perverted desires for Sangwoo, and he wasn’t interested in prolonging his suffering. So he’d take the weirdo’s offer and throw it right back in his fa— “You really think you can finish it before the semester ends?” He should’ve turned him down. Really, Jaeyoung knew that. But…Sangwoo had never asked him for a favor before. I basically rolled over as soon as that jerk threw me a bone, Jaeyoung thought, feeling more stupid and spineless than he ever had in his life. He’d essentially wiped the slate clean between the two of them, even after all the disappointment and embarrassment Sangwoo had put him through. I’m a complete idiot. On the other hand, maybe he was on the verge of something great? What else would have driven a robot who went into attack mode anytime Jaeyoung spoke to suddenly try and make a deal with him? I feel like I deserve the Nobel Peace Prize for this. “I know you’re planning to study abroad,” Sangwoo continued. “So I’m asking for four months, including the time we’re on break. I promise I can finish it.” “That’s nowhere near enough time. You have classes, too, in case you’ve forgotten.” “I’m not taking many classes this semester. And I’ll reduce the amount of hard coding I have to do by relying more on game engines,” Sangwoo declared. It was as if he knew everything would work out. Where had this drive, confidence, and determination come from? It left Jaeyoung speechless. And, much as he hated to admit it, it made Sangwoo’s clumsy proposal just convincing enough to work on him. He liked being a helpful upperclassman. Plus, the game would be a useful addition to his portfolio, and Sangwoo was a skilled developer. But if Jaeyoung was being honest, the real reason he decided to agree was that, deep down, he wanted to spend more time with the enigma that was Sangwoo. “Fine… I’ll do it,” Jaeyoung said, then immediately wished he could take his words back. Why the hell did I say that? Immediately, Sangwoo nodded. Although it was fleeting, Jaeyoung could’ve sworn he saw the weirdo smile. “I’ll be in touch, Jaeyoung,” Sangwoo said, sounding incredibly sure of himself. It was like he’d morphed into some movie protagonist. Jaeyoung stood rooted to the spot, watching him walk away. Goose bumps ran down his arms. It was a good thing that it was fairly dark outside—he didn’t even want to think about how Sangwoo would have reacted if they’d been standing in broad daylight. Surely, even a robot like that weirdo would have the ability to recognize what the bulge in Jaeyoung’s apron meant.