Unrequited Love Thresher-Chapter 65: Traces

Son Suhyeon walked briskly down the hallway.

He wasn’t heading to the library, the classroom, or the sports field, but rather toward the 1st Year, Class 8 room on the fourth floor. As he strode purposefully past, the first-years watched him with subtle glances, flattening themselves against the walls to get out of his way.

Sure, it could be just a third-year running an errand. Or maybe he was just looking for someone. If they didn’t think too much of it, it was nothing. But Son Suhyeon’s overwhelming presence—one that seemed to radiate a quiet hostility—naturally drew attention and made people shrink back.

With his glasses and neatly worn uniform, he looked like a forgettable model student. But his tall build and intimidating face gave him the appearance of someone marching off to beat someone senseless.

Unaware of all the stares, Son Suhyeon walked on, face drawn tight with tension.

‘I hope he’s in the classroom.’

He tried to steady his pounding heart. The one making it race—making him this nervous—was none other than Ha Giyeon. Suhyeon recalled the last time he had seen him.

After seeing Ha Giyeon limping across the field on his way to the nurse’s office, Son Suhyeon had faked being sick and left class to follow.

He wasn’t even in pain. He didn’t know why he was going, or what he wanted to say to Giyeon. Even as he walked, he questioned himself. But still, he didn’t stop. Because, for now, he just wanted to see him.

But what he encountered was Choi Mujin leaving the nurse’s office. After Mujin hurried out, [N O V E L I G H T] Giyeon came out shortly afterward.

‘Why was Choi Mujin in there?’

Suhyeon frowned instinctively, and his brows furrowed even deeper when he saw Giyeon coming out with his leg wrapped in bandages.

And then, they locked eyes.

He’d wanted to ask about the injury, but suddenly blurting it out after coming all this way didn’t seem right. Unable to speak, he hesitated. Just as he was about to say something—anything—Giyeon looked away, gave a polite bow, and walked right past him.

Son Suhyeon couldn’t move. He just stood there, watching Giyeon’s retreating figure.

That figure felt even more distant than the moment they had first met, when they exchanged uniforms. He felt like a complete stranger. It hurt.

He didn’t understand why he felt so shocked. That kind of response from Giyeon was to be expected.

It was the kind of relationship he had wanted. So then why did the sight of Giyeon walking away feel so unbearably painful?

He’d been in the same room as Choi Mujin... and yet treated Suhyeon like he couldn’t even stand to be around him. That was what stung most.

He’d said such cruel things. Hurt Giyeon. And now to be this upset—it was the same as crawling out of a pile of garbage only to wallow in more trash.

“Ha...”

Suhyeon tried desperately to focus on anything else, anything to stop thinking about Giyeon. But even after school, even while working part-time, thoughts of Giyeon wouldn’t stop. He kept seeing that limping figure in his mind’s eye.

What the hell did he want from Ha Giyeon now?

He couldn’t concentrate at work, got chewed out, and ended up being sent home early. The street he always walked after his shift was unusually bright. The sun was setting.

As he made his way home, he passed by the tteokbokki shop—and froze.

It was the place where he’d eaten with Giyeon.

Giyeon, who had eaten the spicy rice cakes even though they hurt his mouth, saying they were delicious.

Giyeon, smiling wide as he ate ice cream.

Giyeon, panting as he climbed the hiking trail. fɾeeweɓnѳveɭ.com

Giyeon, standing at the top, beaming as he looked out over the city.

Giyeon, looking tired, weighed down by something.

Giyeon, who had smiled in relief when Suhyeon listened to him, even though he hadn’t said much at all.

In the end, their relationship had drifted apart before Suhyeon ever heard what was really bothering him.

Wherever he went, he saw traces of Ha Giyeon.

Even in his own home.

“......”

The moment he stepped through the front door, Giyeon’s presence came flooding back. The image of Giyeon quietly entering Suhyeon’s house. The room they shared. The mornings they had breakfast together.

He had only made instant meals, and yet Giyeon had looked like he was genuinely moved.

“Ha, fuck...”

Falling back into those memories, Suhyeon tossed his bag aside and ran a hand through his hair in frustration. What the hell was he doing? This wasn’t the time for this—he needed to find a new job, start making money again.

He picked up his phone to look for part-time job listings. Then his hand stopped.

There were traces of Ha Giyeon on his phone too.

The phone case with a cartoon puppy—something Giyeon had gifted him.

“...Even this.”

Suhyeon let out a sigh and started pulling the case off his phone—only to stop again.

He suddenly remembered the way Giyeon had handed it to him: both hands held out politely, cheeks flushed red, eyes flicking nervously from side to side.

He could picture the way Giyeon had smiled, overjoyed just to see him accept it.

In the end, Suhyeon couldn’t take the case off. He just held it tightly.

‘Just until I start that café job.’

I’ll take it off before I start at the café. That was enough. With that excuse in mind, Suhyeon scrolled through his phone looking for job postings. He opened the gallery to check screenshots he’d saved.

Photos appeared in a cascade.

There weren’t many—some saved job ads, an ID photo, class materials. And one photo of Ha Giyeon, taken with cherry blossoms in the background.

His finger scrolled down, then stopped instinctively.

It was a shot of Giyeon, mouth slightly open, caught mid-surprise in a swirl of falling petals. He had been startled that his photo was being taken. The moment captured that surprise perfectly. The cherry blossoms and Giyeon matched so well, it looked like a painting.

Suhyeon’s lips curled slightly at the memory, but he quickly caught himself and reached for the delete button.

‘I’m not some freak. What the hell am I keeping this for?’

He was going to press it. But his finger didn’t move. Pressing that button felt like erasing everything between them. Suhyeon hesitated again and again—then, finally, just hit the power button and turned the screen off.

He had been the one who said he wanted distance. But now look at him—he couldn’t even delete one photo.

It was pathetic.

And with that, he had to admit it: he couldn’t let go of Ha Giyeon.

If he couldn’t delete this one photo, how could he act like they were strangers?

It was complete defeat. Ha Giyeon had left a mark on his life. They’d only spent a few months together, but it felt like that mark would never fade.

And because it wasn’t a bad mark—because it was a mark of happiness—Suhyeon couldn’t erase it.

The time they had spent together had truly been joyful. It was the first time he’d laughed like that.

Suhyeon made up his mind.

He would go see Ha Giyeon.

He would apologize. And hear what Giyeon had wanted to say—what he had tried but failed to say.

“...What?”

But he never even got the chance.

When he went to see him, his seat was empty. Even his bag was gone. Suhyeon rushed out and grabbed the first student exiting the classroom.

“Ha Giyeon didn’t come today. He’s sick.”

“I think it was an allergy or something... Not sure.”

“Man, a lot of people looking for him today...”

He’s sick? What happened?

Suhyeon suddenly remembered how pale Giyeon had looked the last time he saw him. He’d been focused on his injured knee, but his complexion hadn’t looked good either. And now... an allergy?

‘I have a seafood allergy.’

He’d once said that with a sheepish smile when Suhyeon invited him out to lunch.

He said it was severe. So how had he ended up eating seafood? He wouldn’t have done it on purpose...

Suhyeon couldn’t shake the discomfort in his gut.

If—if, just maybe—what he’d seen from Giyeon, all that he had shown, was the truth...

If he was being mistreated in that rich household...?

‘...No way.’

But if that were true...

It was a ridiculous thought.

But Suhyeon found himself praying that it wasn’t.

***

Having eaten a bowl of porridge as both breakfast and lunch, Ha Giyeon lay in bed, nursing his still-swollen throat.

He had told them he wanted to be discharged, worried about hospital bills and falling behind in school—but for some reason, his parents wouldn’t allow it.

“You’ll stay until your condition improves.”

“If you need anything, let us know. We’ll bring it.”

The only thing he needed was to leave.

Faced with their refusal, Ha Giyeon chose not to talk. Their previously cold and forceful tone had become strangely gentle, and the change made him uncomfortable. So he pretended to be asleep. Only once Dohoon or their parents left the room did he sit up.

Just then—

Click. The door to the hospital room opened, and someone stepped in quickly.

“Ha Giyeon.”

It was Choi Mujin.

He appeared so suddenly that Giyeon was taken aback—but then Mujin said something completely unexpected.

“Want to stay at my place?”