The Words I'd Been Hesitating Over
I'd been sitting with Song Haneul just a moment ago, and the second I stepped away to the bathroom, this was what I came back to?
Was the empty cup sitting there just for decoration?
"……."
Even with the laptop open, it didn't look all that out of place. More than that, the way the guy scrambled out of the seat made it clear he wasn't just buying coffee. If he'd only come inside after spotting me from outside and meant to ask for my number, that was already impressive enough. If he'd been sitting there the whole time, I was ready to call him a complete lunatic.
I'd never tried to pick anyone up myself, so how was I supposed to understand the psychology of someone who did? In the end it was just walking up and throwing yourself at a face, right? I didn't particularly want to dig any deeper into the finer points of that mindset.
Goosebumps rose along my forearms. This wasn't ordinary disgust—my whole body was staging a full-scale rejection.
The café seemed to have gotten even noisier after what just happened. Everyone inside had at least some idea that I'd been sitting with Song Haneul. I glanced around. Every time I did, I got the distinct feeling people were looking this way. It even felt like they were talking about it, which left me a little embarrassed.
Not knowing what else to do, I just kept rubbing my lips and waited for Song Haneul to come back.
"Ugh, that was a pain."
"Hey. We're leaving."
"Why? What happened?"
"Hurry up."
"I just finished one cup?"
Song Haneul looked completely lost. Still, once I dragged us out of the café without any further explanation, I finally felt like I could breathe again.
If stares had been made of something solid, I probably would have been covered in bruises by now. Considering how the place had buzzed the moment that guy fled, this wasn't just paranoia.
My stomach churned for no good reason. Getting asked for a number was one thing I could shrug off, but the sudden sense that the entire atmosphere had swung toward me didn't feel good at all.
"Something happen? The seats were nice."
"…No. Nothing."
"Nothing, and you suddenly want to leave?"
"I just felt like eating something else."
"What, all of a sudden? What do you want to eat?"
I wavered over whether to tell him, then shut my mouth. When I changed the subject, Song Haneul just snorted a laugh and followed along. It had been a half-baked excuse, but it must have sounded plausible enough—he asked where we were going.
I thought back to the shops I'd spotted earlier when we first came outside, focusing on the dessert places rather than full restaurants.
"There was something I saw on the way back before."
"Ah, the donuts?"
"Yeah. Those."
The moment Song Haneul said it, a hazy memory snapped into focus. I grabbed onto it before it could slip away. He didn't seem to mind either; he just nodded.
"Then go ahead and eat. They have coffee there too."
"What about you?"
"I don't think I'll eat any, but maybe I should try one. My taste has changed so much that eating feels weird. Regular food is fine, but sweet stuff like dessert just doesn't sit right. Don't tell me I've got a sugar allergy now?"
"Bullshit."
"Come on."
He shook his head like he couldn't believe me and headed for the shop. I'd already had a cup of coffee earlier, so I wasn't particularly hungry. If something this light could fill me up, I had to wonder where an actual meal was supposed to go. With a body like this, even snacking would make me hesitate. Skipping meals might become a habit.
"I'll have this."
After a quick choice, we found seats. Song Haneul sat across from me and opened his laptop. The whole setup felt like an interrogation, so I ducked my head a little and dropped my gaze.
"Ah, come on."
He clearly hated that. He made a face, grabbed the laptop, and held it half-closed while staring straight at me.
"Wait, do I seriously have to sit here the whole time you're doing that?"
As far as I knew, the only thing he ever did with that laptop was work on his portfolio. Even someone as clueless about broadcasting as me knew scenarios didn't just pop out fully formed. Maybe a genius could pull it off, but I didn't think Song Haneul was that kind of genius.
"I'm just working on ideas. Ideas only. We came out for some air, remember?"
"And you figured a little breeze would make inspiration just pour out?"
"Pretty much."
"I don't really watch dramas, though."
"It's just people like you who don't. Women watch a lot of them."
I gave him a flat look. Song Haneul acted like it was nothing and started tapping at the keyboard. Click, click. The soft, distinctive sound of laptop keys made my ears itch.
"Is it fun?"
"Of course it is. Stimulating, that kind of thing."
Maybe the people who watched and the people who wrote saw it differently. I always figured you just crammed in whatever was fun to watch and called it good.
"So what are you writing? Not historical stuff, right?"
"…That's hard, you know?"
"Didn't you score pretty high in Korean history?"
"You think that's the same thing?"
"Oh, it's different?"
I could be forgiven for not knowing.
Watching Song Haneul clutch that little laptop and groan over it made it look like this was going to take forever. I'd already finished everything I was going to eat and had nothing left to do. Even my phone offered nothing interesting, which left me at a complete loss. Friends were messaging me to come drink or play games; I quietly turned them all down. Feeling restless again, I just flipped the phone face-down on the table.
I wanted to get home fast and rest, or just walk around outside. But Song Haneul had paid for everything, so ditching him felt awkward. Walking alone had also started to feel uncomfortable.
At this point I decided to just throw out whatever ideas came to mind, even if I had no idea what he was actually trying to invent. If anything sounded usable, he'd grab it and run with it. Then we could leave sooner.
"How about a crime-of-passion story? People love that intense stuff."
"Crime of passion? Well… yeah, they do like the trashy melodrama. Morning soaps, that kind of thing…"
His tone didn't sound thrilled, which left me feeling oddly deflated. I leaned back against the chair and crossed my arms. Supporting my chest with my arms made things a little more comfortable. Lifting the weight that gravity had been yanking downward eased the strain.
Song Haneul kept typing, then flicked a glance my way.
"You doing that on purpose so people look?"
"No. It's just comfortable."
Hearing that, he casually scanned the area around us. Finding nothing wrong, he sighed and shook his head.
"Are you just dense about people staring?"
He muttered it to himself, and a faint chill ran through me. Of course—this body used to be his. There was no way he wouldn't know. He'd talked before about how a good figure made people stare, and this had to be exactly what he meant.
I might not have noticed it in the café earlier, but here I wasn't picking up on anything particular. Maybe because I wasn't paying attention, or maybe because no one was being obvious about it. Either way, I didn't want to start noticing.
Having eyes turn toward me never felt good.
"Let's just go already."
It felt like we'd been here a long time, and ordering anything else was out of the question. Even a body that loved sweet things had its limits on how much it could take.
Song Haneul must have realized he'd been stuck on this for a while; he closed the laptop.
"Haa. Fine."
"No good ideas coming?"
"Not really."
"Mix in some fantasy or something."
I said it half-jokingly, but he just shook his head like it wasn't clicking.
"I don't really get that side of things. I know those stories get popular, but they especially eat up a ton of budget."
"You're already worrying about that?"
"…They're not going to hand that kind of money to a writer who's just trying to break in."
"You said it was for a portfolio. Even if it gets accepted, it's not like they'll turn it into a drama right away. Can't you just write whatever?"
"Hmm."
He fell quiet, lost in thought. Something must have started taking shape.
On the walk home, the autumn air had turned chilly enough that thicker clothes were going to be necessary soon. If I kept dressing as lightly as before, I might freeze solid.
I sprawled on the sofa and stared blankly at the TV. I remembered people used to call it the idiot box, and now I understood why. These days I lived glued to my phone, but once you found a decent channel, a whole hour could vanish without you noticing. I was starting to get why TV had been so fun when I was a kid. Finding those fun programs had gotten harder lately, though.
"Movies… dramas, variety…"
I flipped through the channels with the remote, confirming just how many different ones existed. Sports, baduk, animation, even radio. In the end my taste stopped at variety shows. Some of them were the same ones I'd watched in the military, so I naturally lingered there.
But the image of Song Haneul clutching his head kept coming back, so I made myself try to watch a drama for once. There were probably interesting ones out there, but starting in the middle made it hard to get fully absorbed.
Conflict was always stimulating. Did people just enjoy watching relationships crack apart because something foreign had wedged itself between them? Then again, without conflict and resolution, a story wouldn't hold much interest. Even variety shows these days were packed with manufactured tension, which made it feel like everyone in the world was basically the same.
My head already hurt, and trying to watch this only piled on more fatigue. When I couldn't take any more, I turned the TV off and closed my eyes right there.
"Hey. You sleeping?"
Song Haneul called out after coming back from the bathroom. I kept my eyes shut and only pricked up my ears to answer.
"Just a little."
"Dinner?"
"Don't want any."
"…Yeah? Fine, then."
"Is there food?"
"No, we'd have to buy something."
"Eat whatever you want."
"Got it."
He shook his head like it was no big deal and ruffled his hair.
"You're not watching TV?"
"Nope."
"Then give me the remote."
"Help yourself."
He came closer and took the remote I'd set down. The dead TV flickered back to life, and the quiet living room filled with sound again. He sat on the floor in front of the sofa, leaned back against it, and stared at the screen. I watched him through half-lidded eyes and let out a long breath.
"Is it fun?"
"Yeah."
Apparently men and women really did have different tastes. I'd thought it was all just empty stimulation, but the way his eyes lit up over it still struck me as strange. Moments like this made us feel distant even though we were twin siblings. It was a clear reminder that we'd always watched different things from the start.
I stayed quiet for a while, turning over the words I'd been debating whether to say, and finally pulled them out.
"Someone tried to get my number earlier."
"What?"
The TV cut off with a sharp click.