If you stay

It had rained all week.

The world outside was soaked, and the halls of the school smelled of damp paper and muddy footprints.

Ji-Woo stood by the lockers, his hand hovering just above the metal as if bracing himself.

He hadn't spoken to Min-Ho since the art room.

Not because he didn't want to — but because he didn't trust what he might say.

Or worse… what he might feel.

Min-Ho approached. Quiet footsteps. Careful energy.

The way someone approaches a wounded animal —

Or someone who might run.

"You forgot your scarf," Min-Ho said, holding it out.

Ji-Woo didn't look at the scarf. He looked at Min-Ho's hand.

Always his hands.

"What if I don't want it back?" Ji-Woo asked softly.

Min-Ho hesitated. "…Then I'll keep it. Until you do."

A silence. Not cold — not anymore. Just sad.

Ji-Woo turned away, his voice barely audible:

"Why didn't you come after me?"

Min-Ho blinked. "When?"

"When I left. When I disappeared. When I broke."

Min-Ho swallowed hard. "Because I didn't know if I had the right."

"You didn't," Ji-Woo replied.

Then softer:

"But I wanted you to do it anyway."

---

Later that night, Ji-Woo walked aimlessly through the quiet streets.

Headphones in. Music low. Just enough to dull the noise inside him.

He ended up in front of the Kang family bookstore.

Closed.

Lights off.

But he knew Min-Ho was still there.

He stood outside for what felt like hours — unsure if he was waiting for something… or someone.

Then the door creaked open.

Min-Ho stood there, backlit by the warm glow inside.

His voice was hoarse:

"If you come in… I won't let you leave again."

Ji-Woo's heart clenched.

He didn't answer with words.

He stepped inside.