I Can't Sleep Downstairs
“…….”
Je-yoon reeled as if someone had smashed a heavy bottle over his head. It felt like staggering across broken glass only to fall again onto the wreckage, cut open all over.
He had expected it, of course.
What man would turn down a woman like Yeon-ha noona?
They had even been legally married, and they had run in the same circles since college—there were bound to be memories between them that he would never know.
No need to count them, huh.
Ah… right. Maybe they had started before the wedding. Everyone did. Why would Yeon-ha be any different?
He had always prided himself on knowing Song Yeon-ha better than anyone, yet their entire history suddenly felt like an empty husk. As if the shell had been peeled away and only a pitiful kernel remained.
Je-yoon grabbed the nearest glass and knocked it back.
“Why are you drinking that?”
He glared at Yeon-ha when she tried to stop him, then poured himself another and drank that too.
“Impressive, Song Yeon-ha.”
She felt a prick of guilt, but she had no desire to correct him. She had no idea how deeply her answer had cut him.
“Anyway, move on. Your turn.”
The spinner whirred and settled. Looking a little dazed, Je-yoon drew a card. After reading the question, he looked at her.
“What is it?”
“I don’t care, as long as it’s with someone I love.”
The strange answer threw her. It didn’t seem to be a sexual question. Relieved, Yeon-ha scooted closer to see his card.
“What does it sa—”
What’s your preferred position during sex?
Yeon-ha lunged for the card.
“Why are you snatching it?”
Je-yoon blocked her and pinned her between his body and the sofa. He held her arms above her head and looked down at her. A strange silence settled between them as their bodies closed the distance. Alcohol-laced breath filled the space; Yeon-ha’s shoulders rose and fell hard.
The second his gaze dropped to her full breasts, she shoved him away and quickly scanned the deck waiting in the slot.
Where’s your erogenous zone? Ever watched porn? Have you ever had sex in a place like this (indoors excluded)? Filthy questions packed the stack.
If those aren’t the trap cards, what the hell are the trap cards?
Yeon-ha snatched every card with a heart printed on it as soon as she saw them.
Ah…
Kiss the person next to you for thirty seconds. Caress the left-hand person’s chest. Sit on the person across from you and dry-hump.
“…I’m not that curious.”
She muttered, stuffing the cards into the box before Je-yoon could see them and shoving the whole thing under the table.
“Fine. Whatever.”
Je-yoon coolly helped tidy up, then pushed the box aside. Yeon-ha tossed back a shot of vodka, trying to quiet the noise in her head. The bitter burn collapsed her throat until she couldn’t think at all.
Ha… so bitter. She squeezed her eyes shut—and a segment of tangerine brushed her lips. The sweet, bright scent made her part them, and she took it like a baby bird.
“That’s why you shouldn’t drink it like that.”
Je-yoon peeled more tangerine and pressed the pieces into her hands. His voice was flat; his actions were not.
“Still, we should answer properly to keep things fair, right?”
Yeon-ha shook her head hard. She wanted to cover her ears, but both hands were full of the tangerine he had peeled for her.
“I like it when the other person is on top.”
The bright juice nearly sprayed from her mouth. Yeon-ha hurriedly flung the fruit onto the tray and covered her lips.
“You—you don’t have to say things like that.”
“Just saying. You can file it away and use it someday.”
He pressed another piece of tangerine into her palm and leaned back against the sofa. The calm on his face only irritated her more.
“So that’s your preference. Just so I know. There’ll be at least one more person with the same taste, after all.”
“Forget it. I’m going to bed.”
Yeon-ha popped the last piece into her mouth and stood.
“Already? Without washing up?”
“I don’t have clothes.”
At that, Je-yoon opened a drawer in the TV cabinet.
“Turns out they provide this kind of thing too.”
He pulled out an ivory pajama set.
“This?”
“Little details like this are what bring guests back.”
He wasn’t wrong. Jewelry design worked the same way. A single stroke of detail sparked the urge to buy; a birth story touched a customer’s heart and created the desire to own.
“You’ve got sea wind and woodsmoke all over you. Wash up and sleep.”
The moment Yeon-ha took the pajamas, Je-yoon started cleaning up.
She finished showering first and headed upstairs. The only bed was on the second floor, so they had already settled that Je-yoon would take the sofa again.
“Sorry.”
“Then just let me sleep in the bed.”
“That’s not happening.”
“You can block me with a pillow so I can’t cross over.”
“Shut up.”
“Noona, you’re so cold. I feel like you’d just watch me freeze to death.”
Je-yoon wanted to cling like a child if that was what it took to keep her near.
While she had been showering, he had wanted to kill the version of himself that couldn’t control his emotions like some brat. Watching her accept the pajamas in silence, he steeled himself. He wanted to pull her straight into his arms.
And he wanted to ask again. Whether she had really done it with that bastard so many times there was no point counting.
Jealousy churned his stomach inside out.
Then he took a deep breath and muttered to himself.
Go Je-yoon, does that even matter? You almost never got to reach her your whole life—and now Song Yeon-ha is right up those stairs.
Don’t waste rage on a finished bastard.
He felt the need to refine those petty, childish feelings—anger, jealousy—before he let them show.
Suddenly he remembered the look Kevin Lee had given him the night before.
‘What a kid.’
He had read the meaning packed into it perfectly.
“Fucking Yankee…”
Even while he washed, the disgust wouldn’t leave. His own ugly face loomed in the bathroom mirror; he almost punched it.
“Think good thoughts. Think about Song Yeon-ha.”
Noona in the same pajamas as him.
Like him, she wouldn’t be wearing anything underneath. No—she wasn’t. He had seen enough to be sure. Without a bra the soft red peaks showed faintly through; the fabric pulled taut over her breasts, their shape fully visible. Those delicate curves shimmered like a mirage.
I didn’t buy the pajamas just to see that.
Je-yoon gripped the edge of the sink and breathed hard.
In truth he had bought the set separately and stashed it just in case. Forgetting underwear had been an unintentional accident.
Yeon-ha was sharp when it came to work, yet she never seemed to notice things like this.
Even recalling it made his lower belly harden and blood rush south. His hot breath fogged the already steamed mirror. But he had no intention of doing anything more here.
When he opened the washing machine, he found the bundle of clothes Yeon-ha had put in. His hand froze as he went to add his own. The knowledge that her underwear and his would wash together was stimulating. His throat bobbed hard.
“…….”
His clothes settled over hers. Je-yoon swallowed and pressed the start button. The rush of water battered his eardrums.
“Haah…”
He tried to hold out, but it wasn’t working. The tent in his pajamas stood thicker than usual.
The resolve he had clung to since the bathroom collapsed.
“It’s all noona’s fault.”
Je-yoon leaned back against the utility-room wall and freed himself. Veined knuckles worked up and down. Thick groans mixed with the loud churn of the washer.
The soft lips he had measured yesterday, the breasts he had brushed by the fire pit, the small of her back that had pressed lightly against his lower body when she turned. Shampoo scent tangled with sea wind. Eyelashes that had fluttered in surprise. Her chattering voice.
Sight, sound, smell, taste, touch—nothing about her failed to set him on fire. His head tipped back as the water filled the machine louder. Slick with the fluid running down his length, his hand moved faster. His breathing turned ragged.
In Je-yoon’s mind, Yeon-ha was already naked.
It was the first time he had imagined her without clothes. He had never slept with anyone, yet at his age he wasn’t ignorant of a woman’s body. Even so, he had never been able to picture her—until the fleeting unguarded moment she had shown him today stripped his patience bare.
He wasn’t free of guilt that he was doing this downstairs while she slept above him.
But maybe that fact only excited him more; tension coiled tight near his hips. Her imagined breasts rose and fell. Je-yoon reached up, tore a length of tissue from the shelf with one hand.
He sealed the tip quickly, flexed and released his thighs, and came.
Je-yoon carried the wad of desire-soaked tissues out into the courtyard in both hands and tossed them onto the remaining charcoal of the little campfire.
He coaxed a small flame with the torch. Whether from the heat or something else, his body refused to cool.
“Ah, this isn’t working.”
He looked down at the insistent bulge, then jogged lightly around the pension grounds. Only after he had finally soothed himself could he go back inside.
He was washing his hands in the bathroom when Yeon-ha came down the stairs, rubbing her eyes.
“Je-yoon.”
“You… didn’t sleep?”
“I did.”
He smoothed a hand over his startled chest. Please don’t let her have heard him.
“When did you wake up?”
“Just now. It’s… a little cold. Are you okay?”
“I’m hot.”
“Huh?”
“Never mind. Go back to sleep.”
Je-yoon waved her up from the foot of the stairs, insisting he was fine. Sea wind still clung to her; she came down another step.
“Did you go outside?”
“Yeah.”
He smelled of cold air, yet a faint heat still radiated from his body.
He really must be warm.
Yeon-ha tilted her head and turned to climb again. Je-yoon’s gaze stuck wetly to her retreating back.
“Actually, noona.”
He caught her hand.
“Hm?”
“I think I’m cold. I can’t sleep downstairs.”