It hadn’t been difficult at all to hear him say he hadn’t expected things to escalate like that, that he’d never mess with Seo Suho again, and that he’d go apologize in person. As he started babbling about every single immature thing he’d done up until now, the students who’d gathered at the scene of the commotion wrinkled their brows in distaste. The deeds were so shameful that even the listeners flushed with secondhand embarrassment—far too disgraceful for someone on the verge of graduation. No one sympathized. No one felt sorry for him.
Min Yugeon let the upperclassman drop like dead weight and turned on his heel. He’d said he wouldn’t draw attention, and in a sense, he’d succeeded—but the fury bubbling in his chest refused to subside.
Still, emotions like that weren’t important right now. He needed to apologize to Seo Suho—he’d lashed out at the very person who’d gotten hurt because of him. Even by his own standards, it was pathetic. From Suho’s point of view, it must have looked downright disgraceful.
“……!”
“If you’re okay with it, can we talk?”
Seo Suho was standing just outside the classroom and spoke the moment he saw Min Yugeon. Yugeon froze where he stood, shoulders stiff. Seo Suho had never once skipped a class—not ever. And now here he was, waiting outside during lecture time. The sheer unfamiliarity of it made Yugeon’s chest tighten with unease.
Suho gestured with a tilt of his chin as if telling him to follow, then walked past. Yugeon silently trailed behind him.
“…….”
“…….”
They sat side by side in a quiet lounge where students came to cool off. A still silence lingered between them. Suho looked like he was choosing his words carefully, so Yugeon didn’t speak first.
“…I’m sorry. For not saying anything until now.”
He hadn’t expected to hear the apology before giving his own.
“Like I said earlier, it really wasn’t a big deal to me… and honestly, I didn’t want to make you feel weird about it. I mean, if it’s someone who has feelings for you acting like that, it’s pretty obvious what the reason is.”
“……”
“I just didn’t want you to find out and start thinking I got hurt because of you—for no good reason.”
He was spot on. Yugeon had already guessed as much. He stared down at the table. Rather than getting mad, Suho had taken it as something understandable, even going so far as to explain it with such honesty. His guilt only deepened, but somehow his anxiety—selfishly—began to ease. He swallowed the sigh threatening to escape. Why was he always this kind?
“…It still caused you trouble.”
Yugeon finally opened his mouth, still unable to meet Suho’s eyes.
“I had no reason to be so harsh with you. I’m the one who should apologize.”
“Min Yugeon.”
“…I’m sorry.”
Suho didn’t say anything for a while, then slowly nodded. If it was weighing on Yugeon’s heart, then accepting the apology seemed like the right thing to do. But Yugeon, who still had his gaze lowered, didn’t notice the gesture.
Letting out a long breath, Suho reached over, cupped Yugeon’s face, and gently tilted it up.
“Got it. I won’t try to hide things like this anymore either.”
“…Okay.”
Yugeon replied softly and clasped Suho’s hand in return. Those calm, black eyes staring at him without wavering filled him with relief.
***
After the upperclassman who had caused all the trouble graduated, Min Yugeon himself entered his final year. By then, he’d already decided what path he wanted to take. So had Seo Suho. Suho had long aspired to become a researcher and dedicated himself fully to his studies. Every teacher listed him as a model student, and institutions from various sectors had begun reaching out to ask if he’d be interested in applying.
But Suho had only one intention: to follow in his parents’ footsteps. Yugeon thought that clear sense of purpose suited him well. He’d excel no matter what he chose, but still.
“An engineer?”
Lee Minha asked again, surprised. Yugeon had just finished telling her where he’d submitted his application. He nodded in response.
“Yes. I’m aiming to be stationed at a center, doing comprehensive management for spacecraft.”
There’s no such thing as an easy job, but among them, engineers—especially all-rounder engineers—were notorious. They needed to possess specialized knowledge and skills regarding every mechanical component of a vessel, the judgment to respond to sudden malfunctions, and physical training as well. On top of that, rotating shifts were mandatory, which made the job unpopular among students who preferred a consistent biological rhythm.
Minha felt a jolt of confusion at the fact that Yugeon had applied without even discussing it with her. She knew perfectly well that he didn’t want to be forced into becoming a researcher like Min Sanghan wanted. Still, she’d thought he would at least give her a hint about what he was planning. The thought crept in—maybe he didn’t see her as a reliable adult. Maybe she’d never been trustworthy enough for him to feel the need to ask for advice. Her mouth tasted bitter at the thought.
But she forced herself to hide her disappointment and tried to view it in a better light. Nothing was more accurate in determining a career than figuring out what interests and talents you had, and how they aligned with specific roles. As she looked up at the boy who had grown so quickly, she couldn’t help but smile with pride.
“Alright. Mom supports your decision, Yugeon.”
“Thank you.”
Min Yugeon responded with a smile. Unlike his tense relationship with Min Sanghan, he had always maintained a peaceful rapport with his mother. Yet somewhere along the way, he had stopped opening up to Lee Minha as well. It was a kind of effort—not to burden her. But it didn’t feel as suffocating as it had in the past. After all, Seo Suho was there now.
“But Yugeon, your father’s going to…”
“Ah, yeah. I know.”
Min Yugeon had already anticipated the inevitable explosion Min Sanghan would throw.
“But whatever. I already told him I’m not going to the research center, so whether he grabs his neck and collapses or not, that’s his problem.”
“Still… I’m worried he’ll say something awful again when he loses his temper. Do you want me to tell him instead?”
“No.”
Yugeon answered firmly. Knowing Min Sanghan’s temper, even if he and his mother fought bitterly, the resentment wouldn’t subside. If anything, he’d only become more enraged—maybe even start hurling insults, grab him by the collar. He might start throwing things too. If that was going to happen anyway, it was better for his mother not to be involved. This was his matter to deal with—he should be the one to face it.
…Still, he hadn’t expected the timing to be this bad.
“Min Yugeon! You little—!”
Min Sanghan, who should not have been home at this hour, burst into the room. Yugeon, who had been standing inside, didn’t even flinch as he turned to face his father.
Min Sanghan’s face was flushed with rage as he shouted at the top of his lungs.
“You think you can just ignore the parents who raised you? You never listen, and this is how you repay us?!”
“……”
“They delivered student applications to the research center today. But guess what—I couldn’t find the one I was looking for.”
It seemed the applications had arrived earlier than expected. Min Sanghan jabbed a finger in Yugeon’s direction, his fury mounting.
“Why the hell wasn’t yours there?!”
His tantrum escalated as he swept everything off the desk in one violent motion. Unlike other gadgets and toys he’d carefully placed out of the way, the spaceship model—left deliberately in plain sight—was shattered in an instant, reduced to broken fragments.
Even though he had foreseen this, Min Yugeon felt a wave of disbelief wash over him for not preparing properly. Next time, he thought, he should drag Min Sanghan outside the moment he tried to lay a hand on his belongings.
Or… should he just drag him outside right now—so Suho wouldn’t see any of this?
He didn’t care if he himself felt ashamed being exposed like this. But he couldn’t bear the thought of Seo Suho being worried or stressed by the situation. As Yugeon silently stared at the mess of shards, seriously weighing the option, the words came.
“If I’d known you’d grow up to be this selfish… I never would’ve raised a kid like you.”
Min Yugeon didn’t hate Min Sanghan with all his being. For all his selfishness, Min Sanghan at least recognized Lee Minha and Min Yugeon as “family.” He might’ve been violent enough to destroy their things in fits of rage, but he hadn’t crossed into the realm of treating them like disposable trash. If anything, he was just a reckless man who put his own ambitions above all else.
That was why Yugeon had never rejected their familial ties outright. When he was a child, his father had been indifferent. Once he grew older, that same man had tried to dominate him with arrogant authority. But never—not even once—had he said anything to deny the relationship.
The one who had just crossed that line was none other than Min Sanghan.
“Mister.”
“…! S-Suho?”
The fury that had flared so fiercely vanished the moment Min Sanghan realized someone else had seen his outburst. The pitiful look of panic that came over his face as he floundered under the weight of shame was almost comical.
After stammering a few nonchalant words to Seo Suho, Min Sanghan quickly made his exit. Left behind, Min Yugeon stared silently at the floor. Seo Suho had long known about his family issues, but this was likely the first time he had witnessed such an ugly confrontation firsthand. He must’ve been shocked.
What should he say?
Yugeon, drained, searched his foggy mind for the right words.
“Yugeon.”
But what came first was his name, spoken with gentle warmth.
Without a hint of surprise, Seo Suho gently redirected Yugeon’s gaze to meet his own. He wasn’t going to let Yugeon bury himself in silence and sadness.
He wrapped his larger frame around him in a full embrace and said they could build the blocks together.
Yugeon let out a helpless laugh. He knew all too well that Seo Suho had once found watching him assemble blocks so boring he dozed off.
Lowering his head, Yugeon leaned into Suho’s shoulder, hiding his expression.
The feeling rising to his throat wasn’t just sorrow.
