Seojun didn’t say anything when they got in the cab. He just watched the side of Yeonjun’s face, half-veiled in shadow and glassy reflections, while a quiet thought took shape in his mind.

If I asked him to come home with me, would he?

Yeonjun rested his head lightly against the window, his breath leaving faint traces on the glass. His eyes stayed open, unfocused, tracking the neon signs and streetlights outside with a calm, detached intensity. The silence in the taxi wasn’t awkward. It hung in the air, as if neither of them dared to disturb whatever this moment was becoming.

The cab rolled past late-night convenience stores, shuttered clinics, and old hanoks¹ tucked between newer buildings. A bus stop light flickered. A delivery bike sped by.

Neither of them spoke until the driver pulled over just outside a small alleyway lit by a single streetlamp. It was only a short walk from Seojun’s neighborhood. One of the last bars in the area still had its sign faintly glowing, but the inside was pitch dark.

Yeonjun looked confused. “Is this the place?”

Seojun stepped closer to the door and leaned in to read the handwritten sign taped neatly to the inside of the glass.

We are closed today for a family occasion.
Thank you for your kind understanding.

“Tsk… today of all days,” he mumbled and turned toward Yeonjun, who was standing just behind him with his hands in the pockets of his jeans.

“Hey… Can I invite you to my place instead?” 

“I don’t want to be a bother.”

“You wouldn’t be. My parents aren’t home tonight. They won’t be back until tomorrow.”

Yeonjun looked at the dark bar, then back at Seojun. He didn’t want to go back to the hotel at all; if Seojun had asked to just stay out on the street, he would’ve agreed. The quiet between them felt oddly gentle, like they understood each other.

“Okay then.”

And without needing to say more, they turned and began walking toward Seojun’s place.The streets were quiet in that uniquely Korean way, calm and a bit dark, with a soft buzz from the neon lights. A cat darted across the road. A pojangmacha² down the street was closing up, metal shutters clanging down with finality.

Neither of them hurried. There was something instinctively right about their pace, unspoken but mutual.

They walked quietly down the street, the only sound their footsteps echoing softly along the pavement. Streetlights stretched their shadows ahead. Neither of them spoke for a while.

Yeonjun was the first to break the silence.

“It must be nice being able to stay home alone like that.”

“You can’t be alone?”

“I can’t. Even this past week at the hotel… I almost went crazy every night before falling asleep.”

He let out a small laugh, like he was embarrassed to admit it. But it wasn’t a joke.

Seojun looked over.

“Your family must be from out of town, huh?”

“No… My dad actually lives in Jongno-gu.”

He paused before adding,

“I used to live with my girlfriend. We broke up, so now I’m staying at a hotel because I don’t really want to go back to my dad’s place.”

Seojun raised an eyebrow. “Ah.” But he didn’t press, surprised that something like that had come from Yeonjun so casually.

“You’re more open than usual,” he said, his voice calm instead of playful. After a moment, he added, “Are you drunk right now?”

Yeonjun let out a quiet laugh. “Just a little. I’m okay.” He looked at Seojun. “What about you?”

“I’m fine,” Seojun said with a smile. “Not too much.”

He paused, then added in a quiet, almost annoyed tone,

“Actually… I used to hate not being able to be alone. Up until university, there was always someone around me. Always. I didn’t even know what silence felt like.”

There was no nostalgia in his voice. It sounded drained, as if even the memory of it wore him out.

Yeonjun looked at him for a moment, then faced forward again.

“That’s… interesting,” he said softly, without sounding mean.

They kept walking. The space between them wasn’t close or distant. It felt quietly mutual, like something fragile they both respected. They didn’t hurry.

***

They walked in silence for a while, the sound of their footsteps soft against the quiet pavement. The street was mostly empty, lit only by scattered pools of light from old street lamps. A few early cherry buds had started to bloom, hinting at the season to come.

The night air felt colder.

Yeonjun shivered a little and wrapped his arms around himself. His thin shirt wasn’t enough for the six-degree chill that settled in after midnight.

Seojun noticed right away.

“You cold?” he asked, his tone casual but his eyes already scanning him.

Yeonjun hesitated for a second. “Just a little chill, that’s all.”

Before he could say more, Seojun was already shrugging off his coat. It was a long, light trench made of soft fabric, the kind that held in just enough warmth without being bulky.

“Here,” Seojun said.

He stepped in close and draped the coat over Yeonjun’s shoulders. He pulled it gently into place, straightening the collar, smoothing the front, making sure it wrapped around him fully. As he adjusted the neckline, his fingers brushed against the side of Yeonjun’s neck. It was a light touch, barely there, but he felt the warmth of his skin and didn’t pull away. His hands moved slowly, carefully, lingering just long enough to satisfy a quiet craving. He wasn’t rushing. He wasn’t asking.

Third time I’ve touched you tonight, he thought. And it still didn’t feel like enough.
Then he straightened up and said, 

“There’s not much distance left, but I don’t want you catching cold.”

Yeonjun looked surprised by what he did. “You didn’t have to…”

Seojun looked straight at him. “No. I did.”

For a brief moment, neither of them moved.

Then Seojun gave the faintest nod and turned ahead. “Let’s go.”

Yeonjun stayed still for a moment longer. When he put on Seojun’s coat, he felt wrapped up in all of Seojun’s warmth. He felt a strange, deep feeling start to grow inside him. He couldn’t even remember the last time someone had been this thoughtful toward him. That small gesture made him feel really good.

He followed behind without a word, his hands slipping into the sleeves as he walked.

¹(한옥) refers to a traditional Korean house characterized by natural materials (like wood, stone, and clay), curved tiled roofs, and a layout that reflects harmony with nature. Hanoks often include features like ondol (underfloor heating) and a maru (wooden veranda), and are designed according to Confucian principles and seasonal airflow. They are iconic symbols of Korean architectural heritage. 

²(포장마차) refers to a small, tented street stall or cart in Korea that typically sells affordable street food, snacks, and alcoholic drinks like soju or beer. These stalls are often seen at night and offer a cozy, casual atmosphere where people gather to eat, drink, and unwind. The word literally means “covered wagon”, and pojangmachas are considered a nostalgic part of Korean urban nightlife culture.