“Hey, Seo Jae. What took you so long?”
The whisper reached him as soon as he quietly slid into the seat beside Ji-hyang. Pulling his textbook from his bag, Jae-ha muttered back.
“Just wasted some time.”
Unfortunately, wandering around hadn’t gotten him anywhere. He’d chased a strange sensation across every corner of campus, but all he’d found were ordinary spaces. By the time that feeling itself faded, he had no choice but to give up and drag himself into the building.
And thanks to that pointless detour, he was late. Just picturing the tardy mark on the attendance sheet made his stomach turn.
“You’ve been so caught up in dating lately you can’t even think straight, huh?”
“Not yet.”
He brushed off her teasing, though in truth, it was only a matter of time. All that stood between them now was a confession—just a simple confirmation. They were both waiting, measuring who would say it first.
To be honest, it had been so long since Jae-ha had cared this much about someone that he found himself overthinking it. He wanted his first confession to be something more than clumsy, something at least a little romantic. After all, he was four years older—he had his pride.
That was why he kept putting it off. Still, since things already felt like they were dating, he wasn’t exactly in a rush.
“Not yet, huh? Your face says otherwise. You’re practically glowing.”
Ji-hyang gave a short laugh and turned back toward the board. The way she instantly focused was impressive. Jae-ha followed her lead, cutting off the chatter to catch up on the notes he’d missed, filling in blank spaces with his scrawled handwriting.
For once, their rigid professor ended class a few minutes early—though he still made a big deal of it as he walked out. The lecture hall quickly filled with the sounds of bags zipping and notebooks closing.
“Lunch apart again?”
“Yeah.”
When he nodded, Ji-hyang muttered that it must be nice to have someone. Knowing she meant no harm, he just patted her on the back and told her to enjoy lunch.
He hurried out into the hallway, still quiet with the midday lull. Looking around, Jae-ha frowned. Hae-hyun, who always waited in the same spot, wasn’t there.
Strange. Today Hae-hyun only had an afternoon class, and this was the day he always came early just to eat lunch with Jae-ha. Normally, he’d be here waiting by now.
What the… No message either. Scanning the hallway in confusion, Jae-ha suddenly noticed a familiar hem of clothing slipping out from around a far corner. What’s he doing over there? He instinctively started toward it.
But before he could get close, Hae-hyun disappeared around the corner. Where’s he going? A little flustered, Jae-ha quickened his pace—just in time to see him slipping into the emergency stairwell.
As Jae-ha approached, a voice drifted out from the door that hadn’t fully closed.
“Handle it yourself.”
The voice was familiar, yet strangely sharp.
“I don’t have time for this. Why are you asking me?”
The other person’s voice didn’t carry. Only then did Jae-ha realize Hae-hyun was on the phone.
He knew he should walk away, but for some reason, his feet stayed rooted. A dangerous curiosity tugged at him.
“Just break up already!”
The sudden shout made Jae-ha’s heart lurch. The stairwell echoed with raw frustration.
“If breaking up’s the answer, then do it! Weren’t you the one calling me your best partner? And now you’re changing your tune? Is it really that hard to do this one thing for me?”
Ba-dump, ba-dump. His pulse raced. His thoughts blurred, and Jae-ha clenched his fist tight. He couldn’t make sense of it—or maybe he didn’t want to.
“Fine. Until this is sorted out, don’t contact me. I won’t pick up.”
He recognized it instantly. Not just because he’d heard it so often, but because he cared enough to notice. Beneath the firm tone was a subtle whine.
The same way he spoke to Jae-ha.
“Come on, that’s not what I meant.”
Suddenly, Hae-hyun’s voice sounded distant. Jae-ha’s gaze drifted aimlessly before he staggered back a few steps. Almost running, he pulled away down the corridor. The sunlit hallway quickly fell quiet, as if no one had ever been there.
“Just break up already!”
“Weren’t you the one calling me your best partner?”
Even as he walked away, the words kept circling in his ears. It felt like he’d been hit hard.
There was no proof of who was on the other end, but instinct whispered the answer: her.
So the reason Hae-hyun hadn’t been in contact with that woman wasn’t because of Jae-ha…
“Until this is sorted out, don’t contact me.”
…but because they’d been fighting?
After that, he just walked. Aimless, thoughtless, as if his brain had been scorched black. Betrayal, hurt, frustration—emotions roiled violently inside his chest. How, how could he—
“Ha…”
You—how could you.
The late-night outings. The calls from that woman. The arguments—annoyed, but never fully rejecting her. Even the frustration in his voice carried hints of affection.
No matter how he pieced it together, the conclusion was the same: Hae-hyun liked her.
She came before him.
“You’ve got to be kidding me.”
A bitter laugh escaped. Even scrubbing his face roughly did nothing to calm him. His heart screamed louder than his body showed.
He still couldn’t believe it. Jae-ha had dealt with countless people since birth—by choice or not—and he knew the difference between interest and indifference. It wasn’t blind pride; it was statistics built from experience.
Especially right before that kiss. If he’d leaned in then, Hae-hyun wouldn’t have pulled away. Jae-ha could bet his 2,408 friends—yeah, it had grown again—that it had been real. The atmosphere was undeniable.
Which left him with only one filthy conclusion: Hae-hyun was weighing him against her.
“…”
This is seriously pissing me off. Clicking his tongue, Jae-ha pressed his fingers against his furrowed brow. That’s when his phone buzzed in his pocket.
Bzzzz. Bzzzz.
He didn’t even need to look at the caller ID. It was Hae-hyun.
Of course he’d wonder why Jae-ha suddenly vanished when they always ate lunch together. But the last thing Jae-ha wanted was to sit across from him now.
Not lunch, not even his face. He shoved the vibrating phone deep into his bag and turned away. His general ed class that afternoon didn’t even cross his mind. All he wanted was to go home and crash.
But fate didn’t allow it.
“Sunbae!”
Just as he neared the main gate, a loud voice rang out behind him—the one voice he least wanted to hear.
His brows knitted instantly, but he didn’t turn. He knew ignoring him wouldn’t work—Hae-hyun wouldn’t give up easily. Rationally, the mature thing to do was to turn around and talk, but emotionally, he couldn’t.
He sped up, pretending not to hear, when a firm grip caught his arm and forced him to stop. His body twisted slightly, his head following—and there it was, that infuriatingly handsome face.
“Sunbae, didn’t you hear me calling?”
His voice was rough, like he’d run over. Jae-ha just stared at his breathless expression and heaving shoulders before tossing out a curt reply.
“…What?”
“What do you mean, what? That’s my line. Why’d you leave first? Why didn’t you pick up your phone?”
Hae-hyun was acting completely normal, just like always. But to Jae-ha, it felt unbearably strange. Like waking up from a spell. Slowly, he asked:
“Am I not allowed to?”
At his evasive answer, Hae-hyun frowned. His bewildered eyes searched Jae-ha’s face.
“What kind of question is that? I was waiting outside the classroom, and you never came out—”
“I never told you to wait.”
The sharp retort made Hae-hyun’s eyes widen. Confusion clouded his smooth features.
“Sunbae…”
“I’m not that hungry. I’m skipping lunch, so eat by yourself.”
“…Are you mad? Why?”
“Mad? Why would I be? You didn’t do anything.”
With that lie, Jae-ha shook off Hae-hyun’s grip. The strength drained from his hand, and it slipped away. Jae-ha turned his back on him.
And yet, the fact that he still cared about how Hae-hyun must look standing there alone behind him—that disgusted him even more.
