Netkama Punch!!!

When the large park near my apartment finally came into view, I couldn’t take the tension anymore and blurted out to the taxi driver:
“H-Here, please stop here!”

“Here?”
“Y-Yeah…”
“…?”

As expected, Shin Heejae, who had clearly only been pretending to sleep, slowly lifted his head and looked at me. But he didn’t snatch the card from my hand or say anything to stop me.
Unexpectedly, he got out of the taxi without any fuss. But for some reason, my nerves got the better of me, and I felt compelled to mutter a lame excuse.
“I… I was just really thirsty, so… I asked him to stop.”

“…”
It was a ridiculous excuse, especially since my place was only about three minutes away, but Heejae didn’t mock me. Instead, after giving me a quick glance, he simply strode toward the big convenience store at the park entrance.
I found myself following him. He didn’t even look back as he opened the door and went inside, leaving me awkwardly waiting outside.

Soon after, he came ❀ Nоvеlігht ❀ (Don’t copy, read here) back out with a bottle of ion drink, opened it, and handed it to me. I accepted it hesitantly.
“…Thanks.”
Gulp.

I wasn’t actually thirsty, so I only took one sip. Seeing how little I drank, Heejae tilted his head.
“Don’t like it? Should I get water instead?”
“No! It’s fine…”

It had only been an excuse to get out of the taxi.
Heejae must have sensed that, because he let out a short sigh. Then he held his hand out to me.
“Huh?”

“Give it. I’ll drink.”
“Oh, uh… okay…”
He took the bottle I’d just drunk from and drank from the same spot without a second thought. Somehow, every little careless gesture like that felt unbearably noticeable right now.
I deliberately turned away from him and started walking along the park path. I could feel him following closely behind.

“…I think I ate—no, drank too much meat.”
“…”
“So I’m just… walking a bit. My stomach feels heavy…”

He didn’t reply, but the truth was, I didn’t want to go home, so I kept walking, hiding behind that excuse.
Of course, just my luck, the park was completely empty tonight. So it was just the two of us, walking shoulder to shoulder.
Well, he was walking straight. I was the one whose steps kept faltering, veering closer to him each time I lost balance, only to stumble away again. By the third time, Heejae flinched as if he wanted to grab me, and when I nearly tripped, he finally caught my elbow firmly. My shoulders tensed immediately.

“Kim Seyoung, are you okay? You’re pretty drunk.”
“No. I’m not drunk… just… feels like the ground is shaking a little.”
“That’s what being drunk means.”
“…It’s not.”

I knew I was drunk. But my mind was still sharp—too sharp—and that was the problem.
If I were just happily tipsy, I could act on impulse and enjoy myself like earlier. But now, fully aware of everything, his hand on my elbow felt unbearably ticklish. I wanted to scratch the sensation away.
“Just sit over there until you sober up a bit.”

“…No.”
“You’ll fall otherwise.”
Ignoring my protest, Heejae stubbornly dragged me toward a bench along the path. Experience told me sitting would only make the alcohol hit harder, but he wouldn’t let up.

And yet… once I sat down, the nausea eased a little. Maybe because he finally let go of my elbow.
‘…So as long as he doesn’t touch me, I’m fine.’
The thought passed through my mind.

I remembered how I used to feel when Heejae was nearby—always on edge, always expecting him to pull something, convinced every “noona” and every slimy word was fake.
But now…
‘When did that change?’

Even before tonight, before he started drawing, Heejae had begun to feel… comfortable.
But at the same time, some things had become more tense, more uncomfortable. Back then, it was when he threatened me. Now, it was when he was kind, when he looked at me like he liked me and didn’t bother to hide it.
Those fleeting smiles, that soft laugh when he joked, the way his voice changed completely when he called or talked to me…

“Seyoung.”
And now, even when he casually said my name like this, his face was filled with something dangerously earnest.
“…”

“Why are you so jumpy?”
“What?”
“You were laughing just fine earlier. You looked… really cute.”

I shot him a glare at the cheesy comment, but my heart kept hammering anyway. And damn it, he managed to say that with a completely straight face.
But there was no mischief in his expression, just genuine regret. Did he really not notice how dangerous this kind of false sense of closeness could be?
“How can I get you to smile at me like that again, huh?”

“…Shut up.”
I didn’t know if Heejae was being naive or just pretending, but either way, I was embarrassed.
He kept closing the distance between us, and even though I could have stood up, I didn’t. I stayed put until his cold ion drink dampened my thigh—and until his warm lips touched mine.

‘Why… why can’t I…’
Sober enough to think clearly, I hated myself.
I wasn’t gay. And I didn’t like Shin Heejae the way he liked me. So why couldn’t I push him away?

I still felt resistance in my chest, my hands clasped together tightly as if in prayer. So when Heejae pulled back, I was the one who panicked.
Just a light kiss. That was all.
I’d been expecting some kind of verdict in that moment. I’d planned to push him away if it felt wrong once his tongue touched mine, but that timing was ruined.

“Seyoung, you smell like alcohol.”
“…What?”
After the light kiss, Heejae laid his hands over mine, holding them tightly together.

“I like you, Kim Seyoung.”
At that moment, I was overwhelmed by the look on his face. He stared at me, all humor gone, and said quietly:
“So tomorrow, don’t say it was just a drunken mistake.”

“….”
So much for the excuse I’d been preparing. Heejae… he never let me off easy. I felt cornered, like I was standing at the tip of his sword.
“Don’t run away, Seyoung.”

“…”
“Not like last time.”
“…”

“You always run when you can’t handle things.”
The second he said that, my racing heart stopped, and my chest tightened. It felt like he’d touched something deep and instinctive, something I didn’t want exposed.
Like he’d ripped open a part of me I didn’t want anyone to see. As my expression darkened, Heejae gripped my hands tighter, as if afraid I might bolt.

And he wasn’t entirely wrong. The moment he said it, I did want to run. That’s what I’d always done—run away before relationships got too deep. From Heejae, from work, even from my own family.
Having that truth shoved in my face like this, at this moment, made me feel sick all over again, though for a different reason than before.
“I…”

I lowered my head, unable to finish the sentence. Heejae’s expression faltered, guilt flickering across his face.
But I didn’t have the energy to care about how he felt. Because as soon as he said that, memories of every failed relationship flashed before my eyes, like a grim slideshow.
Telling me not to run away felt like branding me a failure. Like saying that whatever this thing with Heejae was, it would end just like everything else—me running.

So…
“…You’re… too much for me.”
The words I least wanted to say slipped out. Heejae looked like I’d stabbed him, his lips parting as if I’d hit a nerve.

‘Is this it?’
The air turned cold enough to feel like an ending.
But then, instead of walking away, Heejae released my hands—only to immediately cup my face between his palms. His eyes softened with something almost painfully tender.

“I misspoke, noona.”
“…”
“Do whatever you want. But I’m not like other guys. I mean it. Even if you run, I’ll just come find you again.”

“…”
“Even if you keep running, I’ll chase you to the end. How about that?”