I am not a Yandere chapter 122

* * *

Maybe that could help ease this heavy feeling in his chest, the one that felt like it was filling with water.

Almost as if entranced, Yeongdeok walked over and placed his hand on Wonjin’s motorcycle.

The glossy black surface felt smooth under his fingers.

“How do I get on?”

“Just step onto the footrest and sit. Ah, also…”

Wonjin pulled a helmet out of the top box and placed it on Yeongdeok’s head.

Never having worn a helmet before, Yeongdeok fumbled with the unfamiliar weight around his neck, irritated by the discomfort as he touched it irritably.

That was when Wonjin’s fingers brushed against Yeongdeok’s chin.

The touch was brief, but so vivid that Yeongdeok’s gaze instantly turned cold as he looked at Wonjin.

“…What are you doing?”

“Just… the size! It looked loose, so I was trying to adjust it.”

Yeongdeok noticed now that there was a strap running under his helmet, crossing his cheeks.

Wonjin, looking flustered and trying to convey his lack of any ulterior motive, gently tugged the strap under Yeongdeok’s chin to tighten it.

Yeongdeok realized that Wonjin’s face was close, but Wonjin seemed too focused on adjusting the helmet to notice or think about it.

Jihoon watched the two of them, their faces close together, with a shadowed expression.

An unpleasant feeling crept up his spine, and the pounding of his heart felt unpleasant.

Though Jihoon recognized his feelings as jealousy, he didn’t want to act miserably.

So, he forced a smile and sent Yeongdeok off.

“Take care.”

“It’s chilly riding a bike at dawn, so you should wear this,” Wonjin said, draping his own rider’s jacket over Yeongdeok’s shoulders.

Yeongdeok took in Wonjin’s attire.

Unlike himself, who was dressed in long sleeves, Wonjin was wearing a short-sleeved black shirt, his bare arms exposed.

“You look like you’d be colder,” Yeongdeok remarked.

“I’m fine.”

Wonjin put his helmet back on and mounted the bike.

When Yeongdeok got on the back, Wonjin said, “You can hold onto my clothes.”

Hugging his waist would be safer, but… Wonjin knew Yeongdeok would never do that.

He’d probably say something like, “Are you seriously asking me to do something as ridiculous as a back hug?” and jump off the bike immediately.

“Let’s go.”

As Wonjin pulled the throttle, Yeongdeok glanced back.

The motorcycle sped forward, slicing through the wind, and Jihoon’s figure rapidly faded from sight.

Yeongdeok couldn’t tear his eyes away from Jihoon, who waved at him with a small hand.

Seeing this in the side mirror, Wonjin picked up the speed slightly and asked, “Do you care about Jihoon?”

“What did you say?” Yeongdeok asked, having missed the question while fixated on Jihoon.

Wonjin repeated louder, “Do you care about Jihoon?”

“Why are you asking that?”

“You kept looking back at him.”

Realizing that Jihoon was no longer visible, Yeongdeok faced forward.

Wonjin’s question made him wonder.

Why was he looking at Seo Jihoon?

The only answer that came to mind was that his gaze had just naturally drifted that way.

When Yeongdeok fell silent, Wonjin didn’t press any further.

The motorcycle carried them forward, filling the silence with the roar of wind.

The scenery changed several times while they rode.

Despite the passage of time, Yeongdeok felt no different from when he had first gotten on the bike.

“Is this really supposed to clear my mind?” he asked.

“Doesn’t it feel refreshing? There aren’t many cars around at this hour, so it feels wide open.”

Yeongdeok looked around.

The empty roads and dark sky looked the same as they did during his late-night commutes.

Then, the bike stopped at a red light, and a heavy truck passed in front of them.

In the quiet of dawn, the rumbling of the massive vehicle felt louder than usual.

The harsh sound made Yeongdeok recall an unpleasant memory, and before he knew it, he gripped Wonjin’s clothes tightly.

Noticing the tension, Wonjin called out.

“Yeongdeok?”

“This doesn’t feel like a mood booster. Stop the bike.”

“If we keep going a little longer—”

“I said, stop.”

Wonjin had wanted to keep riding, hoping the drive would eventually lift Yeongdeok’s spirits, but he gave in when Yeongdeok’s tone became commanding.

He pulled over to the nearest sidewalk.

The moment the motorcycle stopped, Yeongdeok, forgetting about the footrest, hurriedly stepped off, his long legs easily carrying him away.

Taking off his helmet, he distanced himself from the road. Wonjin anxiously followed.

“I’m sorry. It helps me feel better when I ride in the early hours, so I thought it might work for you. I didn’t think you’d hate it so much….”

Yeongdeok’s face was pale, devoid of color.

Misinterpreting this as anger, Wonjin felt guilty.

Meanwhile, Yeongdeok was coming to terms with what he was feeling.

Just the realization of being on the road had triggered his anxiety, his senses on high alert, but it wasn’t just the road—it was that truck.

The moment he saw it…

The memory brought a bone-chilling sensation over him.

Lately, seeing trucks had always triggered this reaction, and today was particularly bad.

Yeongdeok shivered slightly.

Furrowing his brow and biting his lower lip, he heard Wonjin’s voice in the silence of the deserted sidewalk.

“Did I do something unnecessary?”

Though he was drowning in confusion and anxiety, Yeongdeok heard Wonjin’s dejected tone clearly.

“I just wanted to make you feel better…. I’m sorry.”

The apology pierced Yeongdeok’s ears, and the downcast tone tugged at his heart.

Reason started to return, clearing his muddled emotions.

What he was feeling wasn’t Wonjin’s fault.

There was no reason for Wonjin to apologize.

Though unintentional, Yeongdeok had vented his frustration at the wrong person.

He took a deep breath, feeling the tension in his chest begin to ease as calmness returned.

Finally, he was able to look Wonjin in the eye.

His face, which already looked pitiful, had become even more downcast.

Yeongdeok couldn’t quite understand why Wonjin was out at this late hour, dragging out his bike to get some fresh air.

But whether Yeongdeok accepted it or not, it was clear that Wonjin had done this for his sake.

“If you haven’t done anything wrong, don’t apologize. If you overuse apologies like that, even your genuine ones will start to seem cheap.”

Yeongdeok’s tone was cold, but the words he spoke were undoubtedly for the other’s benefit.

Wonjin blinked his eyes like a startled rabbit, his somber expression smoothing out.

“Were you angry?” he asked, uncertain.

“No,” Yeongdeok replied.

Wonjin knew Yeongdeok wasn’t the type to lie about such things.

Yet if he wasn’t angry, then what was with that sharp tone and fierce expression from earlier?

While pondering the mystery, Wonjin was handed the helmet Yeongdeok had been holding.

“Forget the bike,” Yeongdeok said, “Let’s just take in the cool night air for a bit.”

“Then I’ll need to park the bike somewhere… Ah.”

As Wonjin glanced around, searching for a spot, his eyes landed on a bicycle rack nearby.

“I’ll leave it over there. Wait for just a moment,” he said.

Yeongdeok nodded in agreement, and Wonjin pulled the bike over to the rack.

Left alone for a moment, Yeongdeok stared blankly at the empty road, so quiet it seemed a single car might never pass.

The eerie stillness made a shiver run down his spine, but the chill shattered at the sound of an earnest voice from a distance.

“Yeongdeok!”

Wonjin had finished parking and was now running toward him.

* * *