Wooheon covered his mouth with a fist and gave a faint cough, the heat of his lips burning against his knuckles.
“It’s fine. Just take it. Use it or don’t, I don’t care. If you do use it, though, give me back the one I gave you before. I’ll smash it.”
“...It still works. Why smash it?”
“Then I’ll give it to my brother.”
Yueul hesitated.
The old phone from Wooheon had every number wiped, calls and messages blocked—it worked fine now.
Wooheon caught Yueul’s hand and hooked the shopping bag over his wrist.
“Either way, it’s yours.”
“A-ah, thank you... I just don’t know if I should. I feel like I haven’t done anything to deserve it.”
What they’d spent today already far outstripped his monthly salary.
Yueul curled his toes against the floor, unable to find a proper response.
They weren’t even dating.
Accepting something like this felt too heavy.
“Don’t say that. You’ve done plenty. For example, you’ve-”
“P-please don’t say the rest!”
