朴周延的宿命论/Park Ju-yeon's fatalism**设定是志旭出逃遇到了没见过志旭的朴周延，是的，双世界线设定，这只是这一篇的片段，因此我就将中英都放在一起了
总之，先把自己的生活给料理好再谈其他的也并不晚。朴周延拆开红汤的海鲜拉面，再三询问站在一旁的陌生人‘真的不吃’‘不饿吗’等等，几次得到否定的回答后，他按开电炉，在滋啦加热的运行声中任由意识漂浮，这个陌生人散发的气场很畏缩，在他小小的一人居室中也仍然没有存在感，朴周延走去冰箱拿出蔬菜和嫩豆腐，取下挂板上的切片菜刀，包装被他划在边缘的刀瓦解，豆腐四下散出，他小心地抓起，将它们轻轻放入锅内，水已经快开了，在锅底密集地冒着泡。
尽管陌生人非常怕人，但他好像不怕尴尬。朴周延坐在地上，面前摆着矮桌，矮桌的另一头是他，他说不用吃，因此便闲在朴周延对面。为什么被别人看着吃饭那么难为情呢？朴周延的筷子挑起拉面，泛白的热气将对面的人脸遮盖几秒，他连吸溜的心情都没有，只得默默地咬着吃，‘唔。’朴周延咬到一块没煮透的地方，不由自主地发出较劲的声音，他正低头对着碗，因此没发现那人看他的异样目光。
通红的汤浸着雪白的豆腐，在他既是锅又是碗的容器中形成小小的池，他放的水太多，看起来能淹死些东西，权志旭望着那水面上映着的朴周延，突然听见他浅浅地叫了一声。
“啊—好辣。”
他闭起双眼，随即睁开左边，右边眼睛似乎被那汤给溅到。…这种时候也不说脏话，这样的朴周延对权志旭来说同样也是陌生人，他看着紧闭单边眼睛摸索着纸巾的朴周延，说：“别动。”
权志旭说，“我可以…帮你弄。”
他从地板上跪起来，支起上身去捧住朴周延的脸，虽然对于他们的关系来说，这动作十分越界，但权志旭身上的洗涤剂气味让他放松很多，是要帮我吹吹吧。他闭着眼睛想，然而等候了几秒，脸上并未传来清凉的风，他正想勉强睁开眼去看，一个软滑得和虫一样的东西钻开他的眼皮，与他光溜的眼珠黏黏地摩擦起来。朴周延被这触感吓得起了一身鸡皮疙瘩，过后才反应过来，权志旭正在舔舐他的眼珠，没等他拉开距离，权志旭便放开了他。“你不疼了吧。”他的声音依然小小的，朴周延的惊讶没时间表露出来，他在心中大叫道：‘应该有比这个更重要的事吧！’，但他眨眨眼，确实再也不疼了，权志旭与他痊愈的脸相对，情绪高涨了些，又多说了一句话。
“这还是你教我的呢。”
“我说了，我们是第一次见面……”
朴周延对他这副模样有种莫名的反感，他放下筷子，道：“再说了，我不可能教你这种东西。”
权志旭看起来似乎有些受伤，他的音量从说话转为嘟哝，依然自顾自地道：“你说你妈妈都会这样帮你……”
“啊！”
朴周延头皮发炸，说：“怎么可能？你是遇到变态了，懂吗？”
那舌尖的触感仍然留在朴周延的眼里，他烦躁地反复眨着眼，也自言自语道：“怎么可能……我的天。”
权志旭的脸被他垂着的头弄得看不清，朴周延将呼吸平复下来，又对他过度的反应感到同情，他叹了口气，将声音放平说：“真的不吃吗？”
“嗯。”
“我给你拿点喝的，好吗？”
“……”
“好不好？”
“……谢谢。”
权志旭的窘迫看上去不像喝了别人一瓶东西，而是接受了五十万现金一般，朴周延再次叹口气，决心少看他的脸，他的情绪不明不白又非常强烈，也会影响自己的心情。
朴周延打开冰箱门，冷气嗡嗡地吹上他的刘海，“喜欢草莓，还是巧克力？”他说着，手在众多牛奶饮品上悬停。
In any case, it’s never too late to get your own life in order before worrying about anything else.
Park Juyeon tore open a crimson-brothed seafood ramen and, for the third time, asked the stranger standing beside him, “You really don’t want any” “Not even a bite” Each time the answer was no, so he clicked on the electric burner and, beneath its sizzling hum, let his thoughts drift. The stranger radiated such a timid aura that he barely registered inside the cramped one-room apartment. Juyeon went to the fridge, fetched some greens and a block of silken tofu, and took the slicing knife from its hook. One slash along the edge of the tofu packet and the blade freed the custard-white cubes; he eased them gently into the pot where water was already shivering with pin-head bubbles.

Though the stranger was terrified of people, he didn’t seem afraid of awkwardness. Juyeon sat on the floor at the low table; opposite him sat the stranger who had declined food and therefore now had nothing to do but watch. Why is being observed while eating so embarrassing Juyeon lifted a tangle of noodles; the steam ghosted across the stranger’s face for a moment, and Juyeon, robbed of any mood to slurp, simply bit the strands off. “Mm.” A half-cooked knot met his teeth and he made an involuntary sound of effort. Head bowed to the bowl, he didn’t notice the stranger’s odd look.

The scarlet broth cradled snow-white tofu in what served as both pot and bowl. Juyeon had added too much water; the little pool looked deep enough to drown something. Ji Wook stared at Juyeon’s reflection on its surface—then heard a soft cry.

“Ah—spicy.”
Juyeon squeezed both eyes shut, then opened only the left; the right must have caught a splash of soup. Even now he didn’t curse. To Ji Wook this composed Juyeon was as much a stranger as any. Watching him blink the offended eye and fumble for a tissue, Ji Wook said, “Don’t move.”

“I can… help,” Ji Wook offered.

He rose to his knees, leaned forward, and cupped Juyeon’s face. For the nature of their relationship the gesture was far too intimate, but the scent of laundry detergent on Ji Wook’s clothes put Juyeon at ease. He closed his eyes, expecting a cooling puff of air—yet after several seconds no breeze came. Just as he forced the eye open a fraction, something soft and slick as a worm slid under his eyelid and glued itself to his bare eyeball. Juyeon’s skin prickled in shock; only then did he realize Ji Wook was licking his eye. Before he could pull away, Ji Wook released him. “It doesn’t hurt anymore, right” Still small-voiced, Ji Wook added, buoyed by success, “You taught me that.”

“I told you—this is the first time we’ve met…”
Juyeon felt an inexplicable irritation. He set his chopsticks down. “Besides, I’d never teach anyone something like that.”

Ji Wook looked wounded; his voice dropped to a mumble. “You said your mom used to do it for you…”

“What”
Juyeon’s scalp tingled. “That’s impossible. You met a pervert, understand”
The slimy aftertaste lingered on his eye; he blinked furiously. “No way… my god.”

Ji Wook’s face was hidden by his lowered head. Juyeon reined in his breathing, then felt sorry for his own vehemence. He exhaled. “Still not eating”

“Mm.”

“I’ll get you something to drink, okay”
“…”
“Alright”
“…Thank you.”

Ji Wook looked less like someone accepting a bottle of milk than someone handed half a million in cash. Juyeon sighed again, resolving to look at the boy’s face as little as possible; those raw, nameless emotions were contagious.

Cold air fanned his bangs as he opened the fridge. “Strawberry or chocolate” His hand hovered over the rows of flavored milk cartons.