Unrequited Love Thresher-Chapter 75: The Tomorrow I Wait For

Son Suhyeon had always thought of himself a certain way.

He had no parents. He was a lonely orphan. His personality wasn’t good. If something scared him, he ran. People who approached him based only on his appearance would inevitably retreat once they saw what was underneath.

He’d been hurt like that so many times that eventually, he stopped giving people a chance. He began to hate them—before they even got close. He avoided, ignored, and shut the door before it could open.

But Ha Giyeon... was different.

For the first time, Suhyeon had revealed what was inside first.

And Giyeon didn’t react with horror. He didn’t pretend not to care—he genuinely didn’t. Like it was nothing out of the ordinary. Like he’d become too numb to flinch.

To Giyeon, all of it seemed trivial. He was too busy surviving.

Suhyeon liked that about him.

And maybe—he had been seeing Giyeon as someone more miserable than himself.

Even while hating people who offered pity, Suhyeon had acted just like them—projecting his own pity onto Giyeon, feeling a twisted sense of superiority.

It disgusted him.

That he had become one of them. That he had been comforted by the idea that someone else had it worse.

Was there anything more pathetic?

This was why he believed he was broken. Nothing about him was right.

...And he knew. What he was doing now—clinging to someone—wasn’t “normal” either.

But that’s exactly why he couldn’t let go.

Because every part of it—his inferiority, his nervousness, his confusion, his regret—it was all new.

So he didn’t want to lose it.

He didn’t want to lose him.

Even with all his twisted emotions, he wanted Ha Giyeon to accept him.

The messed-up, broken version of him.

“Please... bear with me.”

Just like Giyeon had brought spring into his life—he wanted to be an unforgettable season in Giyeon’s.

“......”

Ha Giyeon stared at him, overwhelmed.

Suhyeon was holding his hand, trembling, almost begging—

Like the way he used to beg his parents and brothers not to leave him behind.

He didn’t understand.

Why would someone like Son Suhyeon lower himself like this—for him?

He was nothing. A coward. A fool.

Why was Suhyeon looking at him like he was precious?

Why was he saying he needed someone like me?

His father used to say it all the time—worthless people have no value. And people without value are destined for loss and death.

Could someone like him really be worth something to Suhyeon?

After all, it was he who had been helped, he who had received comfort.

His voice quivered as it came out.

“I... I’m not worth anything... I haven’t done anything for you. I only ever got help from you...”

“Why would you say that?”

Suhyeon’s face twisted as though he’d been slapped. His expression was hurt—angry, even.

He clenched his jaw, then met Giyeon’s eyes with a sharp, unwavering gaze.

“I’m the one who was helped.

Because after I met you... for the first time, I started thinking about tomorrow.”

He found himself wondering what they’d talk about. What kind of mood Giyeon would be in. What he liked, what he hated.

He had started imagining the next day.

“Even right now, holding your hand—I’m already looking forward to tomorrow.”

Ha Giyeon wasn’t the only one who looked forward to tomorrow.

Son Suhyeon was creating those tomorrows too.

They were giving each other something worth waking up for.

And so they kept breathing.

“......!”

Drip—

From Giyeon’s dry, long-parched eyes, tears finally began to fall.

His usually flushed nose turned damp, and his reddened eyes glistened.

It was the first time.

He’d thought he would never cry again. That he couldn’t.

He’d thought he was the only one expecting something from their future—but Son Suhyeon had said the same thing.

I’m looking forward to ✧ NоvеIight ✧ (Original source) tomorrow with you.

No one could possibly understand what that meant to him.

Before the regression, he’d lived each day in pain.

He wished he wouldn’t wake up, that he could just disappear in his sleep.

When he did wake up, all that awaited him was regret and misery.

That life had felt like being a living corpse.

And on his final birthday—he’d celebrated alone, with a piece of bread from a convenience store and a chopstick used as a candle.

Then the accident happened.

And that meaningless life ended.

But now—Son Suhyeon had said it.

Bear with me.

And I’m waiting for tomorrow.

“......”

Tears sparkled down his cheeks like stardust, and Suhyeon just stared.

Giyeon didn’t sob.

The tears just fell, silently, relentlessly.

His face was full of emotion—grief, relief, something like joy.

Drip.

A warm tear landed on Suhyeon’s hand.

He touched it gently, then reached out.

He stroked Giyeon’s tear-streaked cheek with his thumb, so softly, so kindly.

And in that warmth, Giyeon spoke.

“...Please be here tomorrow too.”

“I will. And you too—be here with me.”

Suhyeon answered without a second of hesitation.

And Giyeon smiled.

That smile—still damp with tears—made Suhyeon stop breathing.

It wasn’t forced.

It wasn’t polite.

It was a real smile.

So bright, so genuine.

Without even realizing it, Suhyeon reached out and cupped Giyeon’s cheek. Then gently pulled him into an embrace.

“S-Sunbae...?”

Giyeon was stunned—his tears dried up from the shock.

But that wasn’t the problem.

His face was pressed against Suhyeon’s chest—thin fabric, nothing in between.

He could feel the broad chest and the pounding heartbeat loud and clear.

The rhythm thudded in his ears, erratic and fast.

Startled, Giyeon blinked up at him.

Suhyeon’s head was bowed, face hidden—except for the tips of his red ears.

And as if his own heart wanted to match the tempo, Giyeon’s pulse began racing too.

He buried his face deeper into Suhyeon’s chest and shut his eyes tight.

Only when both their hearts had settled again did Suhyeon finally pull back.

“Let’s go. If we stay longer, your fever’ll come back.”

“...Yeah.”

Truthfully, the one running hot now was Suhyeon.

But Giyeon just tightened his grip on Suhyeon’s hand as they made their way back down the mountain path.

***

Ha Giyeon was gone.

Ha Dohoon paced his room, picking up and setting down his phone over and over.

He had waited after school to walk home with Giyeon.

He wanted to go find him during breaks or lunch, but remembered Giyeon’s request—don’t act like you know me—so he held back and waited until the end of the day.

But when he went to Giyeon’s class—he wasn’t there.

He walked in confidently and asked.

“Giyeon went home early.”

“He left?”

“After third period. He said he was heading home.”

Was he still not feeling well?

He hadn’t even eaten breakfast...

Dohoon regretted not forcing him into the hospital.

He was worried—of course.

But what stung more was that Giyeon hadn’t told him.

Hadn’t even let him know he was sick.

He wished he’d said something. Even just a word.

Just as he turned to leave, someone tugged the hem of his blazer.

Annoyed, he spun around.

It was Nam Taekyung.

That same clingy voice from before. The one who kept pretending to be close with Giyeon.

Dohoon had heard the name enough times to be sick of it.

“Um... can I visit Giyeon? I heard he’s sick, so I wanted—”

“You a doctor? Why would you visit?”

“W-well, I thought maybe I could help—”

“I feel like you’d make him worse.”

Dohoon shook off the boy’s grip like he’d touched filth and walked out.

The way he kept hovering around Giyeon and trying to get close—Dohoon didn’t like it.

If he crossed a line, Dohoon would remove him himself.

Anything that bothered him also bothered Giyeon.

Dohoon believed he had every right to manage his little brother—like he had in middle school.

Back then, he pretended to ignore Giyeon, but he’d been watching.

Every time Giyeon made a friend, Dohoon scared them off.

Because he knew they only approached him for his background.

So he threatened them. Repeatedly.

Eventually, Giyeon ended up alone.

And when he clung to Dohoon—he’d been annoying. But at least there weren’t any weirdos hanging around him.

It was all for Giyeon.

After watching him collapse the other day, Dohoon realized—he needed to be more thorough.

Weird people were already sticking to him.

He was hiding things. Not telling Dohoon things.

So he would manage him.

He believed—now that their parents were also paying attention—they could go back to being a happy family.

He truly believed that.

Until...

“Ha Giyeon hasn’t come home yet.”

Giyeon... had vanished.