Unrequited Love Thresher-Chapter 83: Suhyeon-ie Hyung

The reason for the scar on Ha Giyeon’s forehead was simple. Of course—it was because of Ha Dohoon.

Even so, Giyeon didn’t blame him. He said it was a misunderstanding, that they were just kids, and tried to excuse it—maybe still wanting to protect Dohoon because he was his brother. But Son Suhyeon couldn’t accept that. What did it matter if it was a misunderstanding, or if they were young? Did that erase the injury Giyeon had suffered in that moment?

Suhyeon was certain: even if Ha Dohoon had come to understand the truth later, he had never once apologized to Giyeon. There’d been no mention of any apology or of clearing up the misunderstanding. Maybe he still believed it had happened the way he thought.

A fountain pen. How could something so trivial be enough to justify a wound that left a scar on Giyeon’s forehead? With Giyeon’s personality, he would’ve insisted it wasn’t him until the end. And yet, Dohoon had been so sure—so sure that he resorted to violence.

Why did someone like Ha Dohoon have to be Giyeon’s brother? The thought of Giyeon living in that shadow made Suhyeon ache. If I were his brother... No matter what, I would’ve protected him. I would’ve cherished him, afraid he might get hurt, and stayed by his side to make sure he never suffered.

...It made his chest burn.

“Suhyeon sunbae?”

Hearing Giyeon’s worried voice, Suhyeon bit down hard on his lip. Giyeon was the one who had suffered so much and was still in pain—so why was he the one always worried about others? He was so precious, it was terrifying to even touch him. And yet that guy—

He knew. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t sever the bond between ✪ Nоvеlіgһt ✪ (Official version) Giyeon and Dohoon, nor could he truly stand beside him as a real older brother by blood.

So maybe... just this much—maybe he could be selfish.

“Don’t call me sunbae anymore... Call me hyung.”

“...Huh? Hyung?”

Giyeon blinked wide-eyed at the sudden suggestion. The words had caught him off guard, but for Suhyeon, it wasn’t a spur-of-the-moment impulse. He’d been thinking about it for a long time. He had never once disliked being called sunbae. Even after growing close while working part-time together, Giyeon had continued to use that title, and Suhyeon found it endearing. It made them feel like nothing more than acquaintances, with no private entanglements.

But that was back when things had still been awkward between them.

Now, the word sunbae stung more than anything else. He wasn’t in any position to demand more—but still, that title carved out an enormous distance between them. It felt like, to Giyeon, he was just an upperclassman.

Suhyeon had realized it most painfully when he tried to define their relationship with words.

A senior and junior who know each other.

A close senior and junior.

No matter how close he tried to make them sound, the fact remained that they were still just sunbae and hoobae. And that wouldn't change.

But Suhyeon had already once experienced what it was like to lose Giyeon. He had no plans to retreat again. It was childish, but if the word hyung could bring them a little closer, he’d cling to it.

“Is... hyung uncomfortable?”

Giyeon didn’t look happy about it, and Suhyeon felt a pang of concern as he studied his expression. Was it too much? What if he drew a boundary, saying they weren’t that close? Suhyeon began to worry that he’d said something he couldn’t take back.

Hyung...

But Giyeon didn’t dislike the title—it just startled him. The first and last person he had ever called hyung was Ha Dohoon. Kwon Jongseok and Choi Mujin could be called sunbae any time.

As for Dohoon, hyung was the only title he was ever allowed to use. Even up until the moment he nearly died, he had been hyung. But now? Was Dohoon still his hyung?

Not anymore. They weren’t even blood brothers. Dohoon had someone else to call him little brother, someone else to call him hyung. Eventually, Giyeon wouldn’t be able to call him anything at all.

Once he left this house, he’d be cutting ties with Kwon Jongseok and Choi Mujin as well. There’d be no reason to ever see them again. So in truth, it was like he no longer had any hyung in his life.

He had never even thought of Suhyeon as a hyung before. But now Suhyeon was asking him to.

What should he say?

His heart was racing. He wasn’t sure if it was from fever or because he was being given a new hyung... But one thing was certain—he didn’t hate it.

Ha Giyeon opened his mouth. For the first time, not calling someone Jongseok-hyung, or Mujin-hyung, or Dohoon-hyung—but simply:

“...Suhyeon-ie hyung.”

“......!”

Son Suhyeon’s eyes widened, and he clenched his fists tight. It was a rush of joy unlike anything he’d ever felt. Hearing Giyeon acknowledge him—like he was his person—made Suhyeon smile. There was something so heartfelt in that look, Giyeon had to bow his head to hide his face, cheeks burning.

Not once had any of his previous hyungs ever looked at him with such tenderness and warmth.

Someone other than them—someone he could now call hyung—had entered his life. And that fact... became another turning point for Ha Giyeon.

“I should get going now.”

“Ah... it’s already that late? Thank you for coming today.”

Suhyeon’s departure made Giyeon feel a deep regret, but he didn’t let it show. There was no telling what might happen if Suhyeon ran into Ha Dohoon on the way out. Suhyeon reached up to gently ruffle Giyeon’s hair.

“Don’t overdo it tomorrow. Rest properly, okay? I’ll see you soon.”

His large hand stroked softly through Giyeon’s hair, and the sensation left him floating as he saw him out. Though Suhyeon had told him not to come out, Giyeon couldn’t help but stubbornly follow him to the stairs, watching as his figure slowly receded into the distance.

***

Suhyeon’s visit had really given him strength. Giyeon’s body felt much lighter, and after resting well through the weekend, he was able to return to school.

For some reason, Lee Mihyun subtly suggested that he stay home longer. But Giyeon insisted he was fine. He really had to go back before he fell too far behind in class.

As usual, he planned to leave the house at dawn, but today, Kang Jini stopped him. She said the others hadn’t woken up yet and served him breakfast. He couldn’t bring himself to refuse.

Fortunately, Ha Ilwoo was away on a business trip, and Lee Mihyun had come home late at night and was still asleep. With that in mind, Giyeon felt a little more at ease and quietly ate.

When that routine repeated for several days, Giyeon began to find it strange. Ha Dohoon—who used to show up nearly every morning to watch him eat or strike up a conversation—was nowhere to be seen. It would be nice if he really had lost interest.

Since the incident in his room, Giyeon hadn’t run into Dohoon once. Dohoon came home later than Giyeon returned from his café shifts, and Giyeon left early in the mornings, so their paths didn’t cross. In contrast, the one whose attitude had changed was Lee Mihyun.

Now that he was back at the café and coming home late again, Lee Mihyun started telling him to ask if he needed anything, even offering to send him to a study center or hagwon, and handed him a card.

That card—the one that had once been taken from him—was now back in his possession, and that made him nervous. He told her he didn’t need it and tried to give it back, but she firmly refused to take it.

Giyeon didn’t know what to do with the heavy burden that card represented. If he kept it, Kim Seunghyun might secretly use it again, and he worried that if they kicked him out someday, they might demand he repay the money spent.

Even if he hid it in his room, it would be pointless if Seunghyun searched for it again.

...I don’t have a choice.

In the end, Giyeon cut the card in half. He felt guilty for destroying something Lee Mihyun gave him—but he didn’t want to use it, not even under these circumstances. If she asked about it later, he would just say it got lost.

He couldn’t keep anything given to him in this house. Giyeon buried the broken card deep in the back of his drawer.

When he returned to school, sports festival practice began immediately. Aside from the group jump rope, he didn’t share any events with Nam Taekyung, and his volleyball team didn’t include any of Taekyung’s friends, which made things far more comfortable.

Thanks to that, even classmates who had been hesitant before now approached him.

“Giyeon, you’re really good at volleyball! Where’d you learn?”

“Uh... just from manga, I guess?”

“Oh! You watch that volleyball anime too? The one called...”

The conversation, which had been awkward at first, began to flow more naturally with time. Unlike Nam Taekyung’s friends, they weren’t trying to put anyone down, and Giyeon felt surprisingly at ease.

After his long illness, a little peace had finally come. And for the first time in a while—Giyeon felt okay.

***

The day of the sports festival arrived.

The third-years had insisted they were too busy studying for college entrance exams to participate—but come the day of the event, they were even more excited than the first- and second-years, running wild as if blowing off all their stress.

In the past, Son Suhyeon would’ve stayed far away, sitting alone in some quiet corner. But this festival was different.

Because Ha Giyeon was here.

Wearing a matching team shirt—his class outfit being a special forces uniform—Suhyeon roamed the sports field, looking for Giyeon. He hadn’t asked what kind of outfit Giyeon’s class had chosen.

Was it dinosaurs or something?

He remembered hearing there had been some issue with their shirts—maybe they reordered? Suhyeon laughed to himself, picturing Giyeon in a dinosaur onesie. Just imagining him bouncing around with a tail was unbearably cute.

“Suhyeon-ie hyung.”

Hearing the voice call from behind him, Suhyeon’s whole face lit up. He didn’t need to look to know who it was—there was only one person in the world who called him that.

Suhyeon turned around, beaming—

“......!!”

—only to come face to face with an actual, full-blown dinosaur.