Chapter 3
Jaerim’s apartment looked… almost worse than before.
Somehow, between that night and now, a few new snack wrappers had appeared on the coffee table.
But there was also a cutting board on the counter, and two eggs left out – like he’d tried to do something before giving up halfway.
Dohyun smiled faintly. “You cooked?”
“Attempted,” Jaerim said, dropping onto the couch. “Gave up.”
“Well,” Dohyun said, rolling up his sleeves, “you’re lucky I specialize in hopeless cases.”
“I can hear you.”
“That’s fine,” Dohyun said easily, opening the fridge.
It was still a depressing sight: expired yogurt, takeout boxes, and what looked like a dying cabbage. But he found enough to work with. “You have rice. That’s something.”
“I always have rice,” Jaerim said from the couch, not looking up from his phone.
“Oh? So you do eat.”
Jaerim let out a slow breath. “Sarcasm doesn’t suit you.”
“Neither does starvation,” Dohyun shot back, though his tone was soft.
That earned him silence.
By the time the food was ready, the smell had filled the entire apartment. Dohyun set the table while Jaerim hovered nearby, pretending he wasn’t waiting.
“It’s just kimchi fried rice,” Dohyun said, sliding a plate in front of him.
“Smells better than the last three months of my life…” Jaerim muttered, grabbing a spoon.
He took one bite. Then another. Then, in about three minutes, half the plate was gone.
Dohyun leaned back, watching with an amused smile. “Slow down. You’ll choke.”
Jaerim pointed his spoon at him. “Don’t jinx me.”
“I’m serious. You almost died crossing the street. I don’t want to explain to the police you died from rice.”
Jaerim snorted quietly, then covered it up by taking another bite.
Dohyun blinked. “Was that a laugh?”
“No.”
“Sounded like one.”
“You’re imagining things.”
Dohyun chuckled, shaking his head. “Right…”
After eating, Jaerim leaned back with a satisfied sigh, eyes closing. “You make this look easy.”
“That’s because it is easy,” Dohyun said while stacking the plates. “You just need to eat like a person.”
“I am a person,” Jaerim mumbled. “Barely.”
“That’s a progress…” Dohyun said lightly.
He carried the dishes to the sink, and for a while, the only sound was running water.
When he glanced back, Jaerim was lying on the couch again, arm over his eyes.
He looked tired – not physically, but in that deep soul-level way that made you want to ask what happened, and also made you afraid to.
On the counter, Dohyun noticed something… a few fresh vegetables sitting in a plastic bag. Probably from grocery delivery.
He smiled to himself. “You bought these?”
Jaerim didn’t move. “They were on sale.”
“Oh…”
“Don’t read into it.”
“…Wasn’t planning to.”
He wasn’t lying – but he couldn’t stop the small warmth spreading through his chest.
It became a pattern after that.
Dohyun started dropping by every few days – always with the excuse of ” just checking “
Jaerim never said he could come, but he never told him not to, either.
Each time, there’d be something new on the counter: half a carrot, a bag of rice, once even a carton of eggs. Jaerim would claim he didn’t remember buying them.
They didn’t talk much – just small, ordinary things.
About the news, about how the weather was “annoying,” about how Jaerim thought cooking was too much effort for something you just destroyed by eating.
But somewhere between all that, Dohyun started to feel like the apartment wasn’t as empty anymore.
One night, as he was leaving, he caught a glimpse of Jaerim standing by the window, arms crossed… just staring out at the city.
The light from the street below traced the edge of his face.
“Hey…” Dohyun called softly. “You good?”
Jaerim didn’t look back. “You ask that a lot.”
“Because you don’t answer.”
“I’m fine” he said simply.
“Anyone ever tell you you’re bad at lying?”
“…Plenty.”
Dohyun smiled faintly, but something inside him tightened. The words slipped out before he could stop them. “You don’t really have people over much huh?”
Jaerim turned then, brows slightly furrowed. “Why?”
“Just noticed” Dohyun said quickly waving it off. “Sorry, that was nosy.”
Jaerim studied him for a moment, unreadable, quiet – before finally saying, “You’re weirdly observant for someone who can’t take a hint.”
Dohyun laughed under his breath. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“It wasn’t.”
“Still taking it.”
For a split second, something flickered in Jaerim’s expression, something softer. But it was gone before Dohyun could figure out what it was.
When he left that night, the hallway felt colder than the apartment had.
As the elevator doors closed, Dohyun leaned back and exhaled.
He told himself he was just helping someone eat properly.
That was all.
But deep down, a quiet thought echoed, one that made his chest ache in a way he didn’t want to name yet.
He’s lonelier than he lets on.
And somehow, that was enough reason for Dohyun to come back again.
