Chapter 2

Just then, Min-ho remembered he had a morning class. Letting out a loud, exaggerated sigh, he dragged himself up and went to get dressed. He pulled on a pair of black cargo pants, a gray band T-shirt, and added some ear piercings. Grabbing a tote bag, he stuffed it with his books and laptop, all the while regretting his decision to drink the night before.

But it wasn't like he had a choice now—he had to go. With heavy footsteps echoing through the building, he stepped out of his apartment, trampling over his small welcome mat.

Meanwhile, Ju-woon was already awake and ready, dressed in a fresh pair of pants and a white formal polo with a lazily tied black tie. Normally, he would have left by now, but today he was delayed—his phone was missing.

After searching nearly every possible spot, he finally found it. Unlocking the screen, he noticed a few missed calls. The caller? None other than his mother.

For a moment, he debated whether to ignore it or call back. After a few seconds of hesitation, he let out a slow breath and decided to return the call. What was the worst that could happen?

"Hey… Mom?" His voice was unsteady.

"Hey, Ju-woon. Long time, right? I have something to tell you."

His stomach sank. This couldn't be good.

"So, your father and I are planning to have you over for the next school break."

His jaw dropped. Was this really his mother? After years of silence, after not hearing from her since high school, all she had to say was, 'Hey, come over for break'? No 'I missed you.' No 'How have you been?'

Ju-woon opened his mouth, but the words were stuck. Trapped in his throat, waiting to be spoken—but they never came.

"I understand if you don't want to come," his mother continued, voice cold yet unsteady. "Just… think about it, at least."

What was he supposed to say to that?

"…I'll think about it," he muttered before quickly hanging up, not giving her a chance to say anything else.

Realizing he was about to be late, he grabbed his keys from the kitchen drawer and rushed out the door. But his thoughts were a storm.

Why now? Why would she suddenly call him for this?

Some people might not understand why he was upset. It wasn't like his mother was a bad person, nor did they have a bad relationship. But ever since he was a child, he had one dream: to become an artist.

And the day he told his mother, she shattered it without hesitation.

"You're young and confused. Art isn't a career. Why don't you become a doctor like your father?"

The words had cut deep, leaving scars that never faded. No matter how much time passed, they still echoed in his mind.

But this wasn't the time to dwell on the past. He needed to focus. Slipping on his headphones, he pulled out his phone and played his favorite podcast to drown out his thoughts as he walked toward class.

His first class was math, though he usually had it in the afternoon. Today was his first day in this new morning session, but he wasn't worried. He didn't expect to make friends anyway, though at least he had one friend in this class—Hyeon.

Checking his phone, he realized class was starting in five minutes—and he still wasn't even close. Hadn't he been walking for 20 minutes? Why was it taking so long today?

Picking up his pace, he noticed the weather. The air was warm, still humid from last night's rain, with small puddles scattered across campus. Birds chirped, students chattered, and occasional laughter or distant shouts broke the morning quiet.

His mind wandered to his art project—how he could improve it, how to make it perfect. By the time he reached his classroom, he didn't even bother checking the time.

Bursting through the door a little too loudly, he immediately felt the weight of every pair of eyes turning toward him. Panting slightly, his eyes were watery from the wind outside.

"Sorry, sir… I was late—" he started, unsure how the professor would react.

There were two possibilities: anger or indifference.

The latter, it seemed. The professor barely acknowledged him. Expected. The guy could be chill, but sometimes, he had a temper.

A small snicker came from the back of the room. Hyeon.

"Is that really you?" Hyeon whispered as Ju-woon hurried to his seat. "Did you actually come in late, or is my clock broken?"

"I just woke up late or something, alright?" Ju-woon muttered, feeling uncomfortable. This was his first time ever being late.

"Hmm… yeah, sure," Hyeon replied, sarcasm dripping from his tone.

They kept their voices low, the class already settled into work. For a moment, all was quiet—until the door swung open again.

A slow whistle echoed through the room as a boy strolled in without a care in the world. Unlike Ju-woon, who had rushed in with panic, this guy looked like he didn't have a single regret.

"Min-ho, don't you have something to say?" The professor sighed. "Always late, goddamn it…"

"Oh yeah… uh, sorry or some shit."

"Language, Min-ho. Language. I know this is college, but this is still my class."

Ju-woon blinked.

Min-ho? He had heard of him before—his name floated around campus—but Ju-woon had never actually seen him. Not that he cared. Probably just another random guy.

Looking around, he realized something unfortunate. The only open seat was… next to Min-ho.

Great. This was going to be awkward.

But there was no choice. Either sit or leave. With a quiet sigh, Ju-woon moved through the rows of desks, avoiding the glances still lingering on him. He dropped into the chair with a soft plop, setting down his bag and pulling out his materials for class.

As he did, he noticed something odd—someone was staring at him.

Turning slightly, he caught Min-ho's gaze. Dark brown eyes, sharp yet amused, watching him as if waiting for something.

"What are you looking at?" Ju-woon finally asked, irritation lacing his voice.

A beat of silence. Then, Min-ho smirked. "What do you think?"

Ju-woon sighed. "Can you turn around and look at the board? Some of us actually plan on passing."

Min-ho didn't move. Instead, he tilted his head. "I mean, you sat here first. Who let you?"

Ju-woon stared at him in disbelief. Was this guy stupid? Did he not look around before sitting down?

"Are you blind? There's no other seat," Ju-woon deadpanned, clearly done with this conversation.

Min-ho finally glanced around—and realization dawned on his face.

For a moment, he looked genuinely embarrassed. Then, as if to shake it off, he pulled out his phone and called someone.

Ju-woon barely paid attention until he heard Min-ho whine into the receiver.

"Ningyi! How could you leave me with that girl yesterday? I don't even know her! What if she left me stranded somewhere? Or worse? That would be on you!"

His voice was a mix of complaint and childish frustration. It was… annoying.

But Ju-woon had to admit, Min-ho's voice was oddly pleasant—smooth, confident, almost sweet. Not that it mattered.

And then—whoever Ningyi was—hung up on him. Without a single word.

Ju-woon let out a short, amused laugh at Min-ho's expression.

Min-ho, completely unfazed, simply sighed.

Ju-woon shook his head, a small smirk tugging at his lips. What a morning.

____________________________________________