That day, as usual, Junyoung placed her bag on the desk as soon as she arrived. But when Beomjin stirred awake on the second floor, she nearly fainted. His half-closed eyes, still heavy with sleep, focused on her, sharpening as he gradually regained awareness. She instinctively stepped back.
“You.”
“Sorry. I didn’t know this was your house. There’s no key or anything, so I thought it was empty… I’ll leave right away.”
Her hand reached for her bag strap, but her eyes remained fixed on Beomjin as he descended the stairs. Stories she’d heard about him began surfacing in her mind, one after another.
Watching her tense posture, Beomjin let out a yawn, wide enough to mimic a roaring tiger. His low, languid voice followed.
“This isn’t my house.”
“What?”
“It’s empty. No one’s been here for a month. Except you.”
Junyoung blinked, confused. Beomjin, completely nonchalant, grabbed a cup from the drawer under the sink, filled it with tap water, and downed it in one go. Junyoung, still hunched over and withdrawing into herself, stammered.
“W-What are you doing here?”
“Sleeping.”
“S-Sleeping what?”
“Not that ‘what,’ just sleeping. Why’s your face red?”
“It’s not red!”
“You’re here to study, right? I’m going back to bed, so do what you need and leave when you’re done.”
Rubbing his eyes, Beomjin trudged back up the stairs and flopped onto the bed. Junyoung stood frozen, her stiff neck barely managing to lift her gaze. She heard neither breathing nor snoring from above, leaving her unsure of what he was doing up there.
Should I leave? I probably should. Who knows what someone like him might do?
…But.
This place was too perfect to give up. Besides, Kwon Beomjin didn’t seem to have any legitimate claim to it either. He’d just found it a little earlier than she had.
Clenching her fists, Junyoung took a deep breath and carefully climbed the stairs, one step at a time. She just wanted to check if he was really asleep.
The stairs were steep, with each step set unusually high. Bending forward to avoid hitting her head on the low ceiling, she reached the top and found Beomjin lying on his side, eyes closed.
He’s really sleeping. I can’t just poke him to check.
But more importantly, how did he know I came here to study?
“What? If you’ve got something to say, spit it out.”
The sudden voice startled Junyoung so much that she lost her grip on the railing and teetered backward.
“Ahh!” she yelped, flailing as her body tilted. Before she could fall, a strong hand yanked her forward.
Her heart pounded like it was about to burst. Eyes squeezed shut, Junyoung gasped for breath before finally opening her eyes. That’s when she realized she was sprawled on top of Beomjin, her wrists smarting where he’d grabbed them.
She let out a silent scream and pushed herself off him, planting a hand against his chest for leverage. In the process, her head slammed into the low ceiling with a loud thunk.
Hunched into a ball, clutching her head, Junyoung endured the pain. Beomjin let out a dry laugh, his tone mocking.
“Never been up here before? The ceiling’s low.”
Wiping away the tears that sprang up from the impact, Junyoung suppressed the lingering ache and looked up, trying to appear unfazed.
“It smells.”
“…That’s what you say to the guy who just saved you? If I hadn’t pulled you back, you’d have split your head open. Might not have stopped there, either.”
Half-risen, Beomjin’s gruff tone carried irritation. The close proximity was unnerving, and Junyoung could only stammer out a weak reply.
“The bed smells dusty.”
Sniffing his own shirt, Beomjin gave a soft ah of understanding and nodded. Not missing her chance, Junyoung asked,
“How did you know I came here to study?”
“I saw you.”
“When?”
“The day before yesterday.”
His blunt reply made Junyoung’s eyes widen. Sighing as if her reaction were exhausting, he added,
“I woke up and saw someone sitting at the desk. Recognized the back of your head, so I went back to sleep.”
“You recognized me… by the back of my head?”
“You sit in front of me in class. Well, in front of the person in front of me.”
Can people even recognize someone from the back of their head?
While she blinked in confusion, a chilling tone suddenly reached her ears.
“If you’d come here for the bed, I’d have kicked you out.”
Junyoung had enough experience to detect the subtle menace in a voice. Automatically stiffening, she turned her gaze toward him. Beomjin, indifferent, merely shrugged.
“Your goal’s the desk, right? In that case, I figured we could coexist. We both need a quiet place, and we’re not after the same thing, so we won’t get in each other’s way.”
Junyoung took a deep breath, trying to calm her racing thoughts.
Beomjin’s presence was unnerving, but his words were oddly reasonable. At the very least, he wasn’t completely incomprehensible.
“So, you just sleep here?”
“Yeah.”
“Why don’t you just sleep at home?”
Junyoung’s question was met with a flat reply.
“Why don’t you just study at home?”
Junyoung immediately understood the implication. Just as she had her reasons, so did he. But now wasn’t the time to pry into those details. After a moment’s thought, she spoke again.
“So, it’s definitely an empty house?”
“Yeah.”
“Even if it’s empty, someone else could come in here, like us.”
Beomjin’s sharp gaze narrowed, and he gave her a crooked smile as though catching on to her meaning.
“Guess we’ll need a padlock. I’ll bring one next time.”
“Are you going to give me a key too? Why?”
At her question, Beomjin yawned and muttered under his breath,
“Like I said, I think we can coexist.”
“Wouldn’t it be easier to use the place on your own?”
Junyoung pressed, uneasy. Beomjin’s brow furrowed, his expression turning sour as his voice rose slightly.
“So, do you want it or not?”
“…Fine, I’ll take it.”
“Good. Now go back to your space downstairs.”
Smacking his lips, Beomjin lay back down. Junyoung hesitated for a moment before reluctantly stepping down the stairs. As she reached the second step, she turned her head.
“Do you even know who I am?”
“You think I’m some idiot who can’t even remember names because I’m bad at studying? Top of the school, Yoon Junyoung.”
Not that it’s the image I aim for.
Muttering to herself, Junyoung descended obediently. And so, their “coexistence” began.
At school, however, their relationship didn’t change. They didn’t speak to each other—there was no reason to.
Even at the house, their conversations started sparse but gradually grew into small exchanges. It had all started after the first time Beomjin brought ramen to share.
From then on, ramen became a daily occurrence. If there was one downside, it was that he always brought ramen. But with no other food options, Junyoung couldn’t exactly complain.
And to his credit, Beomjin introduced variety. Some days, he added eggs; other days, cheese; and sometimes, he went all out with kimchi or sliced peppers.
The effort was clear, so the least she could do was eat it without complaints.
Junyoung was flipping through an English vocabulary book from school when the smell of ramen hit her nose. She quickly tidied the desk. As usual, her makeshift trivet was an old martial arts novel left in the house.
When she scooted her chair aside, Beomjin approached and set down the pot of steaming ramen.
“How many eggs did you put in this time?”
“Five?”
“The yolks are all broken.”
“Not all of them. Two are intact.”
“I told you not to mix them too much.”
“Hey.”
Beomjin frowned as he handed her a spoon. The first time she saw that expression, she instinctively lowered her gaze, but not anymore. Meeting his glare head-on, she watched as he waved the spoon.
“It’s one pot of ramen. If I try to cater to both our tastes, this is the best you’ll get. Figure it out as you eat.”
Junyoung sighed and ladled a portion into her bowl. Since there was no dining table, they always ate at the desk. There was only one chair, so Beomjin always stood to eat. She considered offering him the chair once, but definitely not today.
The chunks of egg white clinging to the noodles were mildly irritating, but the added chili powder made the ramen spicy enough to be enjoyable. Blowing on her noodles, Junyoung glanced at Beomjin, who was slouched over and eating directly from the pot.
“Is there anything you can’t eat?” she asked.
Beomjin paused, his brow lifting slightly before a faint smirk spread across his face.
“You’ve got a terrible personality, you know that?”
“And you’re surprisingly perceptive for someone who looks like you.”
Scoffing, she shot back. Beomjin opened his mouth as if to retort but settled for a laugh instead. Then, without warning, he leaned forward, slurping his noodles so carelessly that the broth splattered onto Junyoung’s white shirt.
“Hey!”
Junyoung shouted as she stared at the speckled stains. Beomjin’s sharp gaze faltered, his expression briefly sheepish—as if even he hadn’t expected the mess. Her face twisted in frustration.
“Just wash it at home. Wear another shirt.”
I was planning to wear this one more day.
Junyoung set her chopsticks down with a sharp clink. Beomjin, still eating without a care, finally noticed her glare.
If your fists weren’t twice the size of mine, I swear I’d kill you.
Finishing his portion in just a few bites, he downed the broth and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. Under the weight of her persistent glare, he sighed and placed the empty bowl on the desk.
“Fine. Take it off. I’ll wash it for you.”
“What? Take off what?”
“What else? Unbutton it and give it here.”
“You crazy bastard!”
Startled, Junyoung pushed her chair back, only to bang the back of her head against the wall. Clutching her head with a grimace, she caught Beomjin’s half-lidded gaze and heard him click his tongue.
“Is banging your head a hobby of yours? Or is your brain so good it annoys you?”
“Shut up.”
Rubbing the back of her head, Junyoung shot him a sharp look. Beomjin merely shrugged, then, without warning, pulled off his T-shirt.
Junyoung’s jaw dropped as his toned upper body came into full view.