The Korean barbecue place buzzed with the clatter of plates, sizzling meat, and overlapping conversations. The table was crowded with laughter and chatter as Gyuvin flipped meat on the grill, Junhyeon and Gunwook bickered over whose tongs technique was superior, and Yujin served lettuce wraps to his older brothers.
Yujin's voice cut through the noise. "Uh, is Hanbin hyung okay? He looks... gone."
All eyes turned to Hanbin, whose face was a vivid red flush, eyes glassy as he stared blankly at a spot on the wall, lips curved into an aimless smile. His chopsticks dangled uselessly from his fingers.
"I'm not drunk," Hanbin muttered, as though reading their minds. His voice was slow and slurred, not helping his case.
"You literally look like a lobster," Gyuvin said, flipping a piece of meat with precision.
"I'm fine," Hanbin insisted, though the way he leaned against Hao completely undermined his claim.
"You're a mess," Hao chuckled, shaking his head. "And you're heavy."
Hanbin clung to Hao's arm, his breath warm against Hao's shoulder. "Don't care," he mumbled. "You smell nice."
The group collectively froze. Junhyeon almost choked on a lettuce wrap.
"God, someone turn off his mic," Gunwook groaned, covering his face.
"Hanbin hyung, I think that's your cue to stop talking," Yujin said, trying not to laugh.
Hanbin was unfazed. His hand found Hao's, fingers curling lazily around his wrist. "You're always pretty," he said in a low voice, as if it was a secret meant only for Hao.
Hao's lips parted slightly, caught off guard by the unexpected intimacy. For a second, the noise around them faded, and all he felt was Hanbin's warmth against him, sticky and unfiltered.
"You're embarrassing," Hao finally managed to say, though his voice had softened.
Hanbin tilted his head, eyes heavy-lidded. "But you like me."
The table groaned in collective disbelief, but Hao didn't flinch. He leaned in, brushing his thumb across the back of Hanbin's hand. His voice was quiet, steady. "Drink some water."
Hanbin pouted but obediently picked up the glass Hao handed him, his gaze never wavering.
Gunwook shook his head as he watched the scene unfold. "Peak entertainment," he muttered.
"Get a room," Yujin said, dramatically covering his eyes.
Gyuvin had been quietly watching the scene unfold, but his attention gradually drifted. His gaze wandered toward the window, where streetlights cast faint glows over the bustling sidewalk.
That's when he saw it. A tall figure in a sleek black coat, hair slicked back, walking with a purposeful stride past the restaurant.
Something jolted inside Gyuvinâa spark of recognition he couldn't place, but it burned through him fiercely. His breath caught. Before he could even process what he was doing, his chair scraped loudly against the floor as he shot up.
"Uh... sorry guys, I justâ I need some fresh air," he stammered, barely looking at his friends.
"Whatâ? Dude, are you okay?" Junhyeon called after him.
But Gyuvin was already gone, shoving open the door and sprinting out into the night. The cool air hit his face. His eyes locked onto the figure moving further down the street, each step widening the distance between them.
His heart pounded in his chest as he ran, fueled by a strange desperation. His mind was a chaotic blur. It could beâright?
The figure turned a corner. Gyuvin's breath hitched. "Wait!" he shouted, his voice cutting through the street noise.
Gyuvin's lungs burned as he pushed himself faster, weaving through the evening crowd. His heart raced louder than the city noise around him. The figure in black was just aheadâhe was so close now he could see the shine of streetlights reflecting off the coat's fabric.
"Ricky?" he blurted breathlessly, reaching out as he closed the distance.
The figure stopped abruptly and turned.
Gyuvin's heart dropped.
It wasn't him.
The man looked to be in his late twenties, sharp-featured and utterly bewildered. His eyes widened in sheer panic as he saw Gyuvin, flushed and panting like a lunatic, hand still half-raised as if to grab him.
"Uhâ" Gyuvin's voice cracked. "IâI thought you were someone else."
The man took a cautious step back, clutching his coat as though Gyuvin might try to steal it. "Are you... okay?" he asked, his tone implying that Gyuvin was most definitely not okay.
"Iâyeah, I'm fine! Sorry, really," Gyuvin stammered, frantically waving his hands. "I swear I'm not a psycho or anything. Just... mistaken identity, y'know?"
The man's expression did not soften. "Maybe... don't run after strangers in the dark?" he suggested, edging away like Gyuvin was seconds from lunging at him.
"Good advice! Thanks!" Gyuvin blurted, his face burning with humiliation. The man quickly disappeared down the street, glancing over his shoulder one last time.
Gyuvin stood there, breathless and mortified. He rubbed his face with both hands and groaned loudly. "Great. Now I'm a public menace."
He turned back toward the barbecue place, his steps slower and heavier. His chest still achedânot from the sprint, but from the crushing realization that it wasn't him.
Gyuvin returned to the barbecue place, slowing down as he spotted Hao and Hanbin sitting quietly on the bench outside. Hanbin was fast asleep, head tilted onto Hao's shoulder, his expression peaceful despite the faint pink flush from alcohol. Hao absentmindedly ran his fingers through Hanbin's hair.
Gyuvin approached awkwardly, his chest still tight from the sprint and the lingering disappointment gnawing at him. "Where did everyone go?"
"They had to head home," Hao replied softly, careful not to wake Hanbin. "You should too. Don't you have school tomorrow?"
Gyuvin let out a tired laugh. "Yes, mom."
Hao shook his head, but his lips twitched into a small smile. "I waited for you, though. You ran out of there like the building was on fire. I got worried."
Gyuvin hesitated. "It's nothing. Just... needed some air."
Hao didn't buy it but didn't press further. His gaze was knowing, but patient.
Gyuvin shifted, eyes landing on Hanbin, who nuzzled closer to Hao's shoulder in his sleep. The quiet intimacy between them made something twist in Gyuvin's chest. "You and Hanbin look really happy together," he muttered. "It's kind of hard not to be envious."
Hao glanced down at Hanbin, his expression softening. "We are happy." He paused. "But it's not like you think."
Gyuvin raised a brow. "What do you mean?"
"People always assume we have this perfect relationship," Hao said, voice thoughtful. "But the truth is, it's messy. We fight. A lot."
Gyuvin blinked, surprised. "For real?"
"Recently, it's been hard," Hao admitted. "University keeps us busy, and we barely have time for each other. We were both frustrated, and I thought maybe we wouldn't figure it out." He looked down at Hanbin, his voice softening. "But we talked. And kept talking. Hanbinâhe's usually the one who apologizes first. Even when it's not his fault."
Gyuvin frowned. "That sounds exhausting."
"It is. But it's also worth it." Hao met Gyuvin's gaze. "Relationships aren't perfect from the start. They're built, piece by piece. And yeah, sometimes they crack. But if you care about someone, you'll fix it. You'll want to fix it. And that's what makes it worth everything."
Gyuvin was quiet for a long moment, the weight of Hao's words sinking into him. Fixing things. Wanting to fix things. That kind of effort sounded terrifyingâmore effort than he'd ever seen in high school flings or fleeting crushes.
"I don't think I've ever felt that way about anyone," Gyuvin admitted, his voice low.
Hao studied him. "Not even Sullyoon?"
Gyuvin shook his head. "That was fun, but it was just..." He swallowed, glancing away. "I don't know. Maybe I'm just bad at this stuff."
Hao smiled faintly. "You're not bad at it, Gyuvin. You just haven't found the person you want to work for yet."
Gyuvin's heart skipped uncomfortably.
"But what if you mess things up before you even get the chance?" Gyuvin asked quietly, his voice raw. "What if it's already too late?"
Hao's eyes softened. "Then you try anyway. Maybe it won't work. Maybe it will. But either way, at least you'll know you did everything you could."
The weight of those words lingered as they sat in the quiet night, broken only by the hum of distant streetlights. Maybe it was time to run toward themâno matter how terrifying it was.
It was the first day of Gyuvin's final year at Jinhwa High School, and the weight of it was already pressing down on him. Time was a strange thingâslipping through his fingers weakly, like sand. It felt like just yesterday he was a wide-eyed 15-year-old stepping through the school's gates for the first time, awkwardly tugging at his new uniform, clueless about what awaited him. His first detention with Gunwook and Junhyeon had somehow blossomed into friendship, a ridiculous cake-throwing incident involving a certain sharp-tongued new boy. Those chaotic memories now felt distant, hazy at the edges.
But now, things were different. Senior year was a looming storm cloud, filled with university applications, CSAT, and constant reminders to figure out what he wanted to do with the rest of his life. And, frankly, it sucked.
Gyuvin sat at his desk, messily writing down solutions for a practice CSAT question. He didn't even notice the knock at the door until the classroom fell silent.
He looked up, along with the rest of the class, to see a boy standing at the doorframeâa small figure with a big, infectious smile that seemed to brighten the entire room. His teeth gleamed as he introduced himself cheerfully, "Hi, I'm Seok Matthew! I'm from the Dance Department at Seoul University of Arts, and I'm here to tell you about a really cool opportunity!"
The teacher nodded and gestured for him to enter. As Matthew made his way to the front, he radiated a charismatic energy that immediately captured the class's attention. Even the teacher seemed mildly charmed.
"Our university is hosting a huge event to showcase all of our majors, and we're inviting high school students to volunteer in different departments. It's a great way to build your portfolio, and meet professors."
The room buzzed with interest as Matthew handed out colorful flyers. Students eagerly grabbed them, whispering to one another about how fun it sounded.
Everyone except Gyuvin.
Unbothered, he remained hunched over his notebook, absentmindedly doodling a cartoon version of Gunwook with exaggerated muscles and a ridiculous smirk. His pencil scratched against the paper as if Matthew's entire presentation were background noise.
As the bell rang, signaling the end of the class, Gyuvin lazily stuffed his notebook and pencil case into his bag. He was just about to sling it over his shoulder when the teacher called out.
"Gyuvin, can I have a word?"
The rest of the students filtered out of the classroom, their chatter fading into the hallway. Gyuvin sighed and trudged toward the teacher's desk.
"Yeah?" he asked, trying to sound polite but mostly just tired.
The teacher folded her arms and gave him a look that could slice through steel. "Listen, Gyuvin, I need to talk to you about your portfolio. You do realize you barely have anything in it, right?"
Gyuvin frowned. "Uh, yeah... but I mean, I have time, right? Senior year's just started."
The teacher shook her head. "Not as much as you think. University admissions are competitive, and with your grades..." She trailed off tactfully, though the implication was clear.
"Thanks for the vote of confidence," Gyuvin muttered under his breath.
Ignoring his sarcasm, the teacher continued. "That's why I want you to seriously consider volunteering for this event. It's a golden opportunity to add something substantial to your portfolio. Plus, you'll get to work with professors who might write you recommendation letters."
Gyuvin groaned. "Teacher, I'm really not into that kind of stuff. Isn't there some other way?"
She gave him a pointed look. "Do you have a better idea?"
He opened his mouth, then closed it, realizing he had no argument.
"That's what I thought," she said. "You need this, Gyuvin. And frankly, I'm insisting. Go. Sign up. I want confirmation by next week."
Gyuvin stared at the brightly colored paper in his hand, filled with illustrations of happy students and flashy event details. He stuffed the flyer into his pocket.
"Fine," he grumbled.
She smiled triumphantly. "Glad we had this chat."
Gyuvin muttered something unintelligible and shuffled toward the door. As he stepped into the hallway, he glanced down at the flyer.
The day of the exhibition had finally arrived. Gyuvin stepped out of the bus with a heavy sigh.
As he approached the venue, his eyes widened at the people bustling around. There were students from different high schools, art school representatives, and even a few foreign exchange students scattered throughout the crowd. Colorful booths lined the entrance, half-constructed installations stood precariously, and the chaotic sound of drills, laughter, and directions filled the air.
At the registration booth, a student coordinator handed him a clipboard. "Welcome! You're in Group 7. Task sheets are attached. Good luck!"
"Great," he said flatly.
He flipped through the task sheet, eyes skimming past the instructions until he reached the most important partâthe list of group members.
*Please be Gunwook. Please be Junhyeon,* he prayed silently. His eyes darted down the list:
Lee Jisoo.
Park Sejin.
Seol Yoona.
Gyuvin froze.
Of all peopleâSullyoon?
It wasn't like they had a messy breakup or anything. If anything, it was polite and uneventful. They simply realized the spark wasn't there. Still, that didn't mean he was particularly thrilled about working alongside his ex-girlfriend. Ever since their breakup, they'd barely exchanged more than awkward greetings in the school hallways.
"Seriously?" he muttered under his breath. He rubbed the back of his neck, wondering if the universe was playing some kind of cruel joke on him.
Before he could dwell on it too much, a familiar voice interrupted his thoughts.
"Gyuvin?"
He looked up to see Sullyoon standing a few feet away, wearing the volunteer lanyard around her neck. Her long hair was neatly tied back, and she held the same clipboard he had.
"Hey," she said, offering a small but polite smile.
"Uh, hey." Gyuvin shifted awkwardly.
"Looks like we're in the same group," she said, her tone casual but slightly stiff.
"Yeah... lucky us," he said, forcing a smile.
An uncomfortable silence lingered between them, neither sure how to break it. Gyuvin was tempted to come up with an excuse to switch groups but knew it would be pointless.
The group leader clapped their hands, calling everyone's attention. "Okay, Group 7, follow me! We're in charge of setting up the interactive installations on the second floor."
Gyuvin sighed. "Guess we should get going," he muttered.
"Yeah." Sullyoon fell into step beside him as they followed the group.
As they walked, Gyuvin couldn't help but sneak a glance at her. She seemed completely composed, while he felt like a mess of nerves. This is going to be a long day, he thought grimly.
The second floor turned out to be the art exhibition space, filled with blank walls, scattered canvases, and half-assembled installations. The faint smell of paint and wood filled the air as volunteers hustled to set everything up.
He focused on assembling one of the display desks, tightening screws while muttering under his breath about the uneven legs. Just as he wiped sweat from his forehead, something caught his eye.
Sullyoon, a few feet away, was struggling to carry a heavy wooden easel and a stack of canvases.
Gyuvin didn't think twice. "Hey, wait," he called out, dropping the screwdriver. He jogged over and reached for the easel. "Let me help you with that."
Sullyoon blinked, surprised. "Oh, thanks. I thought I could handle it, but clearly not." She laughed sheepishly, letting him take the easel.
"Yeah, no offense, but this thing's twice your size," Gyuvin joked, earning a playful nudge from her.
"Rude," she said with a grin. "But you're probably right."
As they returned to their tasks, Sullyoon glanced at Gyuvin. "So, how's your last year going? Are you freaking out about college yet?"
Gyuvin groaned dramatically. "Don't even start. My grades are decent, but the whole 'figure out your future' thing is giving me a crisis. What about you?"
"I already got accepted to an art university, so I guess I'm just chilling now," she said with a shrug.
"Wow, look at you. Miss Overachiever," Gyuvin teased. "What are you majoring in?"
"Performing arts. You know, singing, stuff like that."
Gyuvin nodded. "That sounds way cooler than preparing for the CSAT and stressing over equations."
"Well, I mean, I don't have to memorize calculus formulas, so that's a win."
They shared a laugh, the conversation flowing naturally now. For the first time in a long while, Gyuvin felt genuinely comfortable around her. It was nice, he realizedâjust talking.
As Sullyoon and Gyuvin were setting up one of the displays, she suddenly paused and looked around. "Wait, we're missing the hanging rods for the frames. They're supposed to go right here," she said, pointing to an empty section of the wall.
Gyuvin furrowed his brows. "Where are we supposed to get those?"
"I don't know... maybe check with one of the coordinators?" Sullyoon suggested.
Reluctantly, Gyuvin sighed and dusted off his hands. "Be right back."
He wandered down the hall, scanning for someone who looked official. Most volunteers were frantically running around with canvases and tools, just as clueless as he was. That's when he spotted a tall, slim figure near the far end of the corridor.
The person stood still amidst the chaos, wearing a sleek black shirt with subtle floral prints tucked into black pants. His posture was poised, exuding an effortless confidence. His blonde hair gleamed under the fluorescent lights, slicked back neatly. Even from a distance, his aura was commanding.
He must be one of the event coordinators, Gyuvin thought.
Without overthinking it, Gyuvin walked up to him, tapping the man's shoulder. "Hey, sorry to bother you, but do you know where I can findâ"
The man turned around.
Time seemed to freeze.
"Ricky?"