Unrequited Love Thresher-Chapter 70: Seventeen Years of Neglect and Discrimination

When Ha Giyeon had missed school due to his allergic reaction, Son Suhyeon had tried several times to reach out to him. But every time he was about to, he couldn’t summon the courage—he didn’t know what he was supposed to say.

He’d already hurt Giyeon with careless words, and then ignored him for days like he was a stranger. If he suddenly messaged him now, asking if he was okay, Giyeon would probably just be offended. But an apology didn’t feel like something you should send by text, either. So in the end, Suhyeon couldn’t bring himself to do anything.

All he could do was stare at Giyeon’s name in his contact list and wait for him to come back to school.

And then today, Suhyeon had gone to the teachers' office and happened to spot him there. Giyeon was wearing a mask, but Suhyeon could still recognize him. After a brief conversation with a teacher, Giyeon left the office—and Suhyeon rushed after him.

He finally caught up to him.

“Wait a second, Ha Giyeon.”

When Suhyeon grabbed his wrist, Giyeon turned to him with wide eyes. He looked genuinely surprised, as if it had never occurred to him that Suhyeon might reach for him.

Suhyeon, driven by urgency, had grabbed his wrist—and had no intention of letting go. Just like that time at the café dressing room, when Giyeon had walked out and left him behind—he didn’t want to be that stunned and helpless again.

He was desperate. Desperately so.

“Please... can we talk? Just for a moment. It won’t take long.”

He steadied his breath and finally said the one thing he’d been wanting to say the most.

“I’m sorry. I said all that without knowing anything. I was totally out of line.”

“...!”

Giyeon’s head snapped up at the unexpected apology. His eyes widened.

He had thought Suhyeon was about to say they shouldn’t even acknowledge each other anymore—that it was too difficult to be around him at the café, and that he didn’t want to see him again.

But what came out of Suhyeon’s mouth was a direct, honest apology. Heavy and sincere. The kind of apology no one had ever offered him before.

Giyeon hesitated, unsure how to respond, and finally opened his mouth.

“...It’s okay.”

It was the first time anyone had apologized to him like that, so he didn’t know what to say. He ended up blurting out a dazed reply. It felt good that Suhyeon had apologized. And he was relieved, too. But that was all.

Suhyeon had apologized—but he hadn’t said they could go back to how things were. And Giyeon knew that. Just because Suhyeon said sorry didn’t mean Giyeon was no longer Ha Dohoon’s brother.

Suhyeon was someone who wanted to live quietly without drawing attention. Giyeon had the same goal, but people wouldn’t leave him alone. ⊛ Nоvеlιght ⊛ (Read the full story) With all the noise around him, it was obvious Suhyeon wouldn’t want to be near that.

Giyeon knew his place.

An apology was a request for forgiveness—not a plea to go back to before. So Giyeon decided he would repay Suhyeon’s apology.

By giving him what he wanted most.

“Sunbae, don’t worry. I won’t talk to you again.”

To completely separate from Ha Dohoon’s younger brother. To keep his distance like Giyeon was just some stranger. That was probably what Suhyeon wanted.

Giyeon’s chest ached, but he still forced a small smile.

“I know being around me is uncomfortable because I’m Ha Dohoon’s brother. I’m sorry for making you feel that way.”

“...What?”

“Anyway, we won’t see each other after this year, right? ...I’ll switch to a different café for my part-time job soon, so don’t worry.”

Suhyeon blinked in confusion, not understanding what Giyeon was saying. He didn’t get it—and he didn’t want to get it.

He had apologized, and Giyeon had said it was okay. But now Giyeon was saying they shouldn’t even speak anymore.

“Thanks for everything until now. I really appreciated it, sunbae. You made things better for me.”

With a deep bow, Giyeon turned around. After saying everything he’d meant to say, he didn’t feel any sense of relief—only an emptiness. That must have meant Suhyeon had really treated him kindly.

There was no reason to see him again. This was as good as a final goodbye. Pressing down on his pounding head, Giyeon slowly descended the stairs, heading for the nurse’s office.

As the bell rang, signaling the start of class, his legs kept giving out beneath him on the way down. He stared at the floor and exhaled shakily—but then, thump, he bumped into someone.

“I’m sorry.”

He bowed and moved to step aside, but the person in front of him shifted their foot to block his path.

When it happened again, Giyeon raised his head slightly to see who it was.

“Finally looking at me, huh?”

A hand reached out gently and lowered Giyeon’s mask. His brow twitched in response. A soft smile—a face he had once thought kind—was now looking at him, full of fascination and clinging obsession.

“...Jongseok-hyung.”

“You look awful.”

Kwon Jongseok was smiling, just like always.

***

“Anyway, we won’t see each other after this year, right?”

After hearing that, Son Suhyeon couldn’t move for a while. He couldn’t even remember what Giyeon had said after that. He’d prepared everything he wanted to say after apologizing. But now it was all gone—completely forgotten.

All he knew for certain was that he wanted things to go back to how they were.

He had planned to stumble through it with awkward words, but still try to express how he felt. And yet, that didn’t reach Giyeon.

Giyeon had decided it was over—and declared it, silently and clearly.

This couldn’t be it.

Suhyeon knew he had no right to say that. He had tried to distance himself from Giyeon just because he was Ha Dohoon’s brother. He’d projected his own inferiority complex onto him. Their relationship had been flimsy at best—Giyeon hadn’t even needed to say these things out loud for it to be true.

But his body—his instincts—were screaming.

If he let go of Ha Giyeon now, he’d live the rest of his life feeling like he did the day he left the orphanage. He’d never meet anyone like Giyeon again—someone so warm.

Suhyeon moved. He had to find him. Even if he had to beg, he needed to say it: Because of you, I was able to breathe. Because of you, I had joy.

He had to say it.

He ran down the stairs in a panic, searching for Giyeon, unaware the bell had already rung.

Should I check the classroom?

He turned, heading up the stairs to look in their homeroom. But then—Giyeon’s face flashed through his mind. That expression, like he was saying goodbye. The same face that had been missing from school the past three days because he’d been hospitalized.

His complexion behind the mask, his voice.

Suhyeon suddenly realized—Giyeon had looked like he might collapse at any second. And yet, Suhyeon had still made him listen to his own selfish words. He was overwhelmed by self-disgust.

He’d made it all about himself—again. And still, even in that state, Giyeon had listened to him. Did he really have anything more to say? Any right to say it?

He should just go back to class.

What right did he have to try to “go back” to anything with Giyeon? Regret and self-blame—he knew those well. But was he really going to just sit and stew in regret without doing anything?

He was used to accepting things. But just this once, he didn’t want to step back. He didn’t care how pathetic it sounded—he just wanted to see Giyeon again.

At the very least... let me check if he made it to the nurse’s office safely.

As if it were an excuse he could live with, Suhyeon started heading toward the nurse’s office. He stepped off the stairs and onto the hallway floor—just as a sharp, cutting voice rang out.

“I don’t want to talk to you anymore. This is something I’ll handle myself.”

The harsh, edged voice echoed down the corridor. It was familiar—but also strangely unfamiliar. It was Ha Giyeon’s voice, but a tone Suhyeon had never heard before.

He peeked his head out, glancing down the hallway.

There, in front of the nurse’s office, stood Ha Giyeon—facing someone taller than him. When Suhyeon saw the man’s face, his expression twisted in an instant.

Kwon Jongseok...?

One of Ha Dohoon’s close friends. The guy who had come looking for Giyeon in the library. Giyeon stood before him now, and for some reason, his hunched shoulders looked unbearably heavy.

Jongseok looked down at Giyeon with the same smile plastered across his face.

“Giyeon, aren’t you sick of it? Being compared to Dohoon, stuck in that house? Look at you—sick, and no one’s even worried about you. I’m the only one who cares, right?”

“I... never asked anyone to care.”

“Yeah? But why do I get the feeling you ate something you’re allergic to on purpose, just to get some attention? A once-in-a-lifetime chance to be noticed for once.”

“...Isn’t that just how you want to see it? I’ve already spent seventeen years begging for attention. That was enough. I don’t want their love—or their hate—badly enough to risk my life anymore. I’m sick of their neglect, their favoritism... even their attention.”

“...”

“And the one standing in front of me right now...”

Giyeon’s voice was terrifyingly devoid of emotion.

In contrast, Suhyeon’s head was spinning from what he’d just overheard. Confusion and emotion clashed within him.

Attention. Discrimination. Seventeen years. Allergy. Life.

In the midst of the chaos in his mind, Suhyeon saw it clearly. The face of Kwon Jongseok—gazing at Giyeon with a look full of dark, muddy obsession.

He felt something awful was about to happen.

And just as he was about to step in— freeweɓnovēl.coɱ

Kwon Jongseok raised his hand.