Chapter 19: A Line That Won’t Be Drawn

“…Huh?”

“You weren’t cheating on me with Yoon Jina while we were dating… right?”

As he said that, Jeongwon placed a piece of kimchi—something he hadn’t touched until now—onto his spoon and brought it to his lips.

It was so absurd I couldn’t even find words.

I stared blankly at his chopsticks moving nonstop, tried to steer the conversation elsewhere, but ended up answering anyway.

“I didn’t.”

“Then that’s fine.”

That was all he said, and without even looking at me, he stuffed the kimchi into his mouth.

The ramen bowl was already scraped clean, as if he’d only boiled one serving.
Only now, after finishing everything, he seemed worried about bloating.

Meanwhile, I absentmindedly sucked on the tip of my chopsticks, and Jeongwon, as if this were his own place, began tidying up the table with practiced ease.

By the time I shoved the kimchi back into the fridge, he had already finished clearing everything and was standing at the sink, trying to pull on a pair of rubber gloves. They looked a bit tight—stretched to the point of bursting.

I stepped closer, trying to take them from him, but even when I pushed, he didn’t budge.

“You cooked, so I’ll do the dishes. Sit down.”

“I’m the one who wanted to eat. Go away.”

Even as I tried to snatch them away, he stubbornly forced his hands into the gloves and turned on the faucet.

I watched him wash the dishes for a while, then got pushed out after he aggressively wiped down the table.

Calling it a living room was generous—it was just a small space near the entrance with a sofa placed there. Sitting down, the front door was directly in view.

As I sat there aimlessly, listening to something clearly breaking in the sink, the anxiety I’d been suppressing slowly began to resurface.

I picked up my phone and texted Jina again, but there was no reply.

Scrolling up through the messages I’d sent without a single response, irritation bubbled up.

What did she think a phone was? A walkie-talkie?
Why did she never reply?
She’d only contact me when she needed something.

And then there were the things she’d said—about not interfering, about me trying to make things work.

Maybe she’d just said them casually, but she wasn’t the kind of person to speak without thinking. That made it worse.

I should’ve asked her before I left.

But… what would I even ask?

Jeongwon and I weren’t anything like that.
Could I even say something like that?

A dull headache pulsed faintly at my temples.
With each heartbeat came a small stab of pain. I pressed my fingers lightly against the spot.

The clatter of dishes finally stopped.

I’d been staring blankly ahead when I heard footsteps approach. Looking up, I saw Jeongwon staring down at me, his expression turning serious.

“Do you have a headache?”

“A little. I’m fine. I’ll take some medicine and sleep.”

And then everything would be fine.

Avoiding his gaze, I got up and opened the small drawer beside the sofa. My fingers brushed past patches and muscle pain medication.

There should be painkillers somewhere… maybe in the room?

Luckily, I found a single pill wedged in the corner of the drawer.

As I peeled open the packaging, Jeongwon had already brought me water.

I smiled in thanks and took the mug. The warmth spread into my palm.

I put the pill in my mouth and took a sip.

The temperature—just right—slid down my throat. I winced slightly as I felt the pill go down, then tightened my grip on the cup.

As I drank the warm water, it felt like the headache was already easing.

I kept turning the cup in my hands.

The warmth soothed not just the pain, but my thoughts as well.

I felt like I needed to answer him.

I couldn’t keep avoiding the weight of what he’d said with flimsy excuses.

So I looked up.

His eyes were full of concern.

At some point, that face—the one that used to only look like an act during photoshoots—was now soaked with genuine worry.

Like acting.

No.

I knew now.

That expression, so vivid it looked like acting… was real.

“Why does it hurt all of a sudden?”

“Just… because.”

“Is something bothering you?”

“You, idiot.”

The truth slipped out lightly from the tip of my tongue.

In the brief silence that followed, I let out a shallow sigh.

I should just say it now.

Let’s stop this.
Stop confusing me.
Don’t come looking for me anymore—

Just as I was about to speak, Jeongwon suddenly—so naturally, too naturally—pulled me into an embrace.

The distance closed in an instant.

I still had the cup in my hand, so I couldn’t push him away in time.

By the time I reacted, his arms were already wrapped lightly around my back.

When he even rested his chin on my shoulder, I tightened my grip on the cup.

My body tensed.

He must’ve felt it—my stiff shoulders, my rigid posture.

And yet, he simply held me, quietly.

His soft, almost playful voice brushed against my ear.

“You treat everyone else so well, but only act like this with me.”

“There you go calling me ‘hyung’ again.”

“Do you hate me?”

“No.”

That’s why I’m trying to push you away.

Because I don’t hate you.

Because I care about you—a lot.

I didn’t want things to go wrong like this.

Look at me.

I can’t even properly push him away when I’m trying to.

I can’t even say what I want to say.

“Jeongwon.”

“Yeah.”

“…What do you want from me?”

I really didn’t know.

If he’d tried to take things any further, I probably would’ve run out immediately.

But all he did was this.

Feeding me, following me, staying by my side—

And the most he’d do was hug me.

I couldn’t tell what he wanted from me.

It was a strange distance.

Not enough to feel repulsed.
Not enough to push him away.

Maybe… he was even more perceptive than Jina.

That thought crossed my mind.

“Just this.”

“What does that mean?”

“I just wanted to do this. All of this.”

The throbbing at my temple grew sharper, more frequent.

My pulse quickened.

And I couldn’t bring myself to push away the warmth.

So I just… let him be.

I woke up briefly at dawn.

The migraine that had tormented me earlier had left a lingering trace.

I sat on the bed in the dark room, pressing my temple out of habit.

Now, more than the headache, it was the dull ache in my hand that remained.

It made me laugh a little.

Earlier, Jeongwon had said my hands were cold and kept massaging them.

He must’ve done it too hard—my fingertips still tingled.

I tried massaging my shoulder too.

No… that wasn’t why I woke up.

I felt like I’d slept for a while, but the shallow dreams left me exhausted.

I flopped back down, staring at the empty ceiling.

The white wallpaper looked just like the blank background of a browser window.

So I closed my eyes again.

And then words began to surface in the darkness.

I was relatively calm when it came to hate comments.

Of course, there were nights I kicked walls, muttering about quitting, studying abroad, opening a shop—anything to escape this.

There were times I couldn’t eat, times I needed IV drips.

But everyone went through that.

Even Woosung—he pretended to be fine while reading hate comments on variety shows, but eventually ended up in the ER at dawn.

Variety shows were like that.

There was a script, limited situations—but you had to aggressively push yourself to stand out.

And sometimes, you crossed the line.

Compared to people who broke down in therapy, buried themselves in hobbies, or even clung to religion for relief—

I was doing relatively well.

I handled things alone.

Even among the flood of comments, I was good at accepting what needed to be accepted.

Not just my own opinion—my manager and the director had said it too.

I could ignore outright hate.

The comments that made me furious enough to throw my phone or curse out loud—those faded over time.

But when something was mixed—

80% truth and 20% criticism, or misunderstanding—

That was what suffocated me.

Because where do you even begin explaining?

All those “Yeah, that part’s true, but…” excuses stayed buried deep in my chest—

Only to resurface at night and torment me.

I rummaged through the drawer beside my bed.

Unlike the one in the living room, this one held stronger medication.

Painkillers. Sleep aids.

Like I said—I was doing fine.

Sleep aids weren’t even prescription-only. You could easily get them at a pharmacy.

The pills were round, smooth, coated in a bluish-green.

A bit too big, if you asked me.

Sometimes I swallowed them without water out of laziness, feeling them scrape down my throat.

Still, I took one in a single gulp and lay back down.

“Yeah… I was wrong.”

I muttered the thought I always ended up with.

But still—

Even so…

The scandal with Jina definitely made things worse.

But objectively speaking, that album was doomed from the start.

Even when I first heard the tracks, I had forced a smile.

They didn’t suit me at all.

There were constant disagreements during production.

Still, I did my best.

I only left the practice room at dawn—or rather, morning.

And whenever I ate, I’d throw up half of it.

The stress and pressure made it impossible to digest properly.

For the first time, even my manager stopped talking about dieting.