Unrequited Love Thresher-Chapter 73: You Appeared

It hurt.

His whole body ached like it had been beaten, just like the time he’d gotten hit at the factory. And he was cold—like that winter night when he’d tried to sleep in a thin jacket, shivering.

His body felt heavy, like after an accident, and his ears were muffled, like he was underwater. Ha Giyeon lifted his head, exhaling hot breath. His head was burning, splitting with pain.

Just when he thought his skull might actually crack open, a cooling sensation washed over him, and the stabbing heat began to ease. Something cold pressed against his forehead, lowering his fever, and a gentle hand combed through his hair, cupping his cheek.

The coolness on his skin felt so good that Giyeon rubbed his face into the hand. The startled hand flinched at first but then began stroking his cheek softly.

That comfort made him drift back into sleep.

“Hoo...”

Watching him, Son Suhyeon finally let out a deep sigh of relief. Giyeon’s fever was going down—thank god. If it hadn’t, he really would’ve had no choice but to call an ambulance. novelbuddy.cσ๓

Suhyeon had ended up bringing Giyeon to his own home. He’d carried him from the taxi, stripped off his uniform, and wiped down his burning body with a cold wet towel.

He didn’t even know why, but he’d felt embarrassed about it. And he knew that if Giyeon found out, he’d probably feel uncomfortable too. But there hadn’t been time to think about that—Giyeon’s condition had made everything else irrelevant.

He changed his clothes and tucked him into bed. Gradually, his trembling subsided.

Giyeon had probably already taken medicine at the nurse’s office, so Suhyeon didn’t give him any more. Instead, he pressed cool wet cloths to his body to help bring down the fever.

It was like this back then too...

A memory came back—when he’d lived at the orphanage.

Every winter, the children would fall ill from the cold, sleeping on frigid floors in drafty air. Suhyeon used to stay up all night placing wet towels on their foreheads, hoping their fevers would go down.

And the next morning...

“...!”

Suhyeon shook himself out of it.

He couldn’t keep comparing the orphanage kids to Giyeon. Giyeon was different. He wasn’t going to die from a fever. He wouldn’t die from being beaten. He wouldn’t thrash around in agony until his body gave out.

From time to time, Giyeon murmured in his sleep and reached out with one hand. Thinking it was just a sleep gesture, Suhyeon took his hand and held it gently.

Then, in a voice barely more than a breath, Giyeon whispered:

“P-please... save me...”

Suhyeon stiffened.

He’d been listening to Giyeon’s faint mumblings, but that line rang out loud and clear. What on earth was haunting him so badly that he was begging for help, pleading for his life, even in unconsciousness?

Suhyeon held his hand tighter and whispered again and again, “It’s okay. You’re safe now.”

As he combed gently through his hair and soothed him, the furrow between Giyeon’s brows relaxed, and his expression slowly became peaceful.

Suhyeon replaced the now-warm cloth with a freshly cooled one. As he wrung it out and reached to move the damp hair from Giyeon’s forehead, he froze.

“A scar...?”

There was a long scar across Giyeon’s forehead. Not large, but deep enough to suggest it had once been torn open. Judging by the way it had healed, it ◆ Nоvеlіgһt ◆ (Only on Nоvеlіgһt) probably hadn’t even been stitched.

Suhyeon traced it with a finger, slowly, then caught himself and laid the towel over his forehead.

He hoped the fever wouldn’t spike again. He stayed by his side, watching over him.

***

Ha Giyeon opened his eyes just before evening.

He had collapsed and slept the entire day after being dismissed early from school. Still disoriented, he groaned and slowly sat up. The sharp headache had eased, but his body remained heavy and sluggish.

Plop.

Something slid off the blanket and hit the bed—it was a warm, damp towel. As he looked around in confusion, his eyes widened at the familiar space.

The house he had lived in before the regression—Son Suhyeon’s home.

If Suhyeon hadn’t been sitting beside him, holding his hand, he might have thought he’d regressed again.

Why am I here...?

It was strange enough just being in this house—but even stranger to see Suhyeon asleep, curled up in an uncomfortable position beside the bed, still holding his hand.

No blanket, just lying awkwardly on the floor.

He remembered that he’d been on his way home after leaving school early. His condition had been so bad that he could barely recall walking out. The last thing he remembered was someone grabbing him. He must’ve blacked out after that.

So sunbae brought me here...

He must have been surprised—but even so, he’d carried him here, cared for him...

Giyeon felt grateful. Suhyeon really was kind.

Even though they’d agreed to keep their distance, he had still come to his rescue. That meant Suhyeon hadn’t helped because it was him—he was just the kind of person who couldn’t walk past someone who was struggling.

Giyeon wasn’t sure how he’d ended up here, but he decided not to overthink it. He needed to leave.

He had left school in the morning, and now darkness had settled outside the window.

He began to sit up, brushing off the covers—and looked down at his hand, still clasped in Suhyeon’s.

That large, warm hand covered his own, radiating heat. It felt so comforting, he was tempted to stay like this.

To shake off the daze in his head, Giyeon pressed his temples hard. Then he carefully began to pull his hand free—

“...!”

Suddenly, Suhyeon’s hand clutched his. His eyelids twitched, then slowly lifted. His dazed eyes locked onto Giyeon—and widened, growing clear.

He quickly sat up.

“You’re awake? How do you feel?”

“I’m okay... Uh, sunbae? Why am I here?”

“You almost collapsed on the field, so I brought you here.”

“Ah...”

Suhyeon explained everything—how he didn’t know Giyeon’s home address, how Giyeon had refused to go to the hospital, how the school nurse was away and the office was closed. And how, with no other options and his fever burning high, he’d brought him here.

The more he listened, the more pale Giyeon became.

Then, all at once, he threw off the covers, knelt in front of Suhyeon, and bowed his head.

“I-I’m so sorry!”

This wasn’t just a burden—it was unthinkable. He had promised to distance himself from Suhyeon, and yet here he was, having not only leaned on him but slept in his house after being nursed all day.

He should have been thanking him, but instead, he felt angry.

Why was he still so kind?

That kindness—briefly ignored—was shaking him all over again.

“Get up! What kind of sick kid kneels like this...?”

Suhyeon slid his arms under Giyeon’s armpits and lifted him back onto the bed.

Giyeon blinked, surprised by how easily Suhyeon carried him.

“You don’t need to apologize. If anything, I brought you here without asking.”

“If it weren’t for you, I would’ve collapsed out there...”

As thanks and apologies passed between them, an awkward atmosphere settled.

Now that he was awake, it was time for him to leave. Suhyeon knew it, and Giyeon did too. He couldn’t keep imposing like this.

“I... I should go now.”

“Stay a bit longer... your fever’s still not gone.”

“I’m really fine. It’s late, and I should head home. Thank you for everything today.”

He started to rise without hesitation—then realized he wasn’t wearing his uniform.

He was dressed in a loose long-sleeved shirt and pants—something he’d worn before at Suhyeon’s place.

Reaching toward his neatly folded school uniform and bag, Giyeon froze.

“...?”

Suhyeon’s hand had caught the edge of his sleeve. Just a small pinch.

But his large hand held it tightly, face looking desperate.

“I know it’s shameless for me to apologize now—or try to explain.”

“...”

“But... just once. Just for a minute. Will you listen? Even just a few minutes...”

The earnestness trembled all the way to his fingertips.

Giyeon had no idea what else Suhyeon could possibly want to apologize for. He’d already done so—and there shouldn’t be anything left between them.

...But the desperation in Suhyeon’s eyes—it reminded Giyeon of himself, clinging to his parents before the regression, begging them not to throw him away.

So he turned to face him.

That tiny movement—agreeing to listen—made Suhyeon gently guide him back to the bed and sit him down, draping the blanket over his shoulders.

And then, silence.

Facing him, Suhyeon opened his mouth, then closed it—several times. Finally, he spoke.

“When I found out at the library that Ha Dohoon was your older brother... to be honest, I felt betrayed. I’d been assuming, without realizing, that you and I were in the same kind of situation.”

Maybe it was during the uniform exchange. Maybe while walking through the cold streets. Maybe when Giyeon fell asleep in his house.

He didn’t know exactly when, but he’d started projecting onto Giyeon.

Maybe he’d wanted to think that way—wanted to find someone like himself, someone who could make him feel less alone.

“I’m an orphan. Living alone is hard enough. I’ve never formed proper relationships—and I didn’t want to. I always thought I was the most pitiful person. I only ever thought about myself.”

He’d always been looked down on or pitied—and somewhere along the way, mistrusting people had become second nature.

“But then... you appeared.”