Chapter Text
Something had shifted since that lunch break.
Hyuntak didn’t say anything about it—didn’t even really notice it himself at first—but it was there, subtle and slow, like the warmth of sunlight crawling across skin. After that strange, chaotic conversation, and Juntae’s shy, half-stuttered answer, something in Hyuntak’s chest had loosened. The weight wasn’t gone, but it wasn’t pressing quite so hard either.
Maybe it was hope. Maybe it was stupid. But he didn’t care.
He found himself laughing more around Juntae that day. Not the polite kind of laugh you gave to your friends out of habit—but the real kind. That chest-deep, unguarded laugh that caught even him off guard sometimes. Juntae always looked startled by it at first, but then he’d smile—bright and full, like he couldn’t help it—and it made Hyuntak feel like he’d just won something important without even knowing he was playing.
He slung his arm over Juntae’s shoulders as they walked down the hallway after class, tugging him close like it was the most natural thing in the world. Juntae, as always, stiffened slightly at first—but then leaned into it, smiling up at him, no teasing, no awkward jokes, just... soft.
He bought him those cheesy snacks Juntae liked so much from the cafeteria again, tossing the bag into his lap during lunch without a word. Juntae’s eyes lit up like they always did, and Hyuntak looked away like he didn’t care, even though he definitely did.
And this wasn’t just a one-day thing.
The ease between them stretched into the weekend. Their whole group met up like they always did—Suho dragging them outside, Baku bringing the basketball, everyone pretending like they weren’t trying to make Si-eun and Juntae into actual athletes. It was a mess, in the best way.
“Alright, Sieun, I know you’re not tall but you’re smart, that’s gotta count for something!” Baku shouted from across the court.
Sieun narrowed his eyes. “I know physics. I don’t know how to throw a ball.”
“You're literally a genius!” Suho called out, laughing. “How hard can it be?”
Meanwhile, Juntae stood a little awkwardly off to the side, holding the ball like it was a precious artifact. Hyuntak jogged over, ruffling his hair before gently adjusting the way he held it.
“Like this,” he said, voice low, calm. “Feet apart. Elbow straight. I got you.”
Juntae nodded slowly, looking up at him with those wide eyes. “You’re really good at this.”
Hyuntak smirked, stepping back. “Damn right I am. Now shoot.”
It went about three feet, bounced off the rim, and landed right on Baku’s head.
Everyone burst into laughter—yes, even Sieun.
Juntae turned red, covering his face with both hands, but he was laughing too, bent over in quiet wheezing gasps.
They played until the sun dipped low behind the trees, warm orange light casting long shadows across the court. Suho and Baku were drenched in sweat from their one-on-one showdown. Sieun had called it quits after the second game and now sat on the bench, sipping a drink like he was judging them all. Juntae stuck close to Hyuntak, bumping shoulders occasionally, still smiling.
And Hyuntak—he didn’t think about confessions. Or labels. Or the terrifying idea that he might get his heart broken.
He just felt good.
Like maybe—for now—this was enough.
>-<
The morning was quieter than usual, the kind of chill that clung to your sleeves and made the city feel like it was still trying to wake up.
Hyuntak stood at one end of the tunnel with Suho, both of them waiting, backpacks slung lazily over shoulders, the drowsiness of morning making them lean against the wall like their bones were too heavy.
Suho scrolled on his phone, thumb moving quick. “Sieun says five minutes. You think Juntae’s on his way?”
Hyuntak shrugged, though he was sure. “He said we’d all walk together. He’ll show.”
And Juntae never broke promises. Not to Hyuntak, at least.
Then came the noise—muffled voices from the other side of the tunnel. Nothing too alarming at first. Just the rowdy echoes of someone shoving someone else, a taunting laugh carried through the stale air.
Suho’s brows furrowed slightly, but he kept his phone in hand.
Then came a sharper sound—skin against stone, a dull thud, the snap of a bag being yanked.
"Come on, man. Just give us the cash."
Hyuntak and Suho both straightened.
Laughter. Cruel and careless.
“Why make this harder than it needs to be?”
Then the metallic slide of a blade unsheathing.
Silence.
Hyuntak's heart began to pound.
Then—Juntae’s voice. Small. Anxious.
“The knife isn't necessary, if you ask me… I’ll give it. Just don’t—”
Hyuntak didn’t even feel his feet move. His body was already sprinting forward, tunnel walls blurring past. Suho cursed behind him but followed, fast as he could.
They came flying out the other side of the tunnel—and stopped cold.
Four boys in uniforms from another school. One holding Juntae with an arm locked across his chest, a short knife pressed right against the soft curve of his neck. The other three turned instantly, forming a makeshift barrier, each of them grinning like they were untouchable.
Hyuntak’s hands clenched into fists, knuckles already burning. “Let. Him. Go.”
The guy with the knife didn’t even flinch. “Take another step, and I’ll carve him open.”
Suho held his arms out slightly. “Hey. Let’s not be stupid. We can talk this out.”
But Hyuntak—he wasn’t interested in talking. Not anymore.
Juntae looked shaken. Not crying, not screaming—just frozen. And that made it worse.
All Hyuntak could see was red.
He moved.
It was like something inside him had snapped loose.
The first guy came at him and dropped to the ground within seconds, knuckles slamming into his face with a satisfying crunch. Suho handled the next one, slamming him into the tunnel wall with a grunt. The third tried to kick Hyuntak from the side, but he ducked and retaliated with a sweeping punch that took the wind from his lungs and dropped him like a sack of bricks.
Only the one with the knife was left. Still holding Juntae. Still smug.
“I swear, I’ll cut him,” the guy hissed.
Hyuntak didn't answer. His foot lifted, sharp and quick—a clean roundhouse from his taekwondo days. It hit the guy’s wrist with a loud smack. The knife flew from his hand—
—but not before it nicked Juntae’s cheek. A thin red line opened just beneath his eye, and blood began to slide down his skin.
Time stopped.
Hyuntak saw it—the cut, Juntae’s flinch, the tiny tremble in his lips—and something inside him shattered.
He charged.
The guy barely had time to raise his arms before Hyuntak tackled him, fist slamming down again and again, raw and angry, each hit louder than the last.
“Hyuntak!” Suho shouted. “He’s done! You got him, man!”
He didn’t hear.
But then—
“Hyuntak.”
It was Juntae. Voice soft, cracking.
“Tak-ah, please.”
Arms wrapped around him from behind, small and shaking. Juntae clung to him like an anchor, and the sound of his voice broke through the fog.
Hyuntak stopped.
He stood in a rush, breath ragged, eyes still locked on the unconscious body below him. Then he turned—Juntae was holding a tissue to his bleeding cheek, face pale but determined.
Hyuntak’s hands shook as he cupped his face, eyes flickering over the wound.
“Are you okay?” he asked, voice thin. “God, are you okay?”
Juntae opened his mouth to answer, but Hyuntak beat him to it.
“You scared the shit out of me,” he whispered—and before he could think, before the fear or doubt could stop him, he leaned in and kissed him.
It wasn’t long. Just a press of lips—desperate, trembling, full of all the things he hadn’t said.
When he pulled back, Hyuntak looked like he’d seen a ghost. “I’m sorry,” he said quickly. “It was—It was a mistake. Sorry, I couldn’t think—”
Juntae froze.
“A mistake?” he echoed, voice brittle. His warm browns turned into ice cold.
Hyuntak’s eyes widened. “I didn’t mean—”
Juntae shoved him. Hard.
It didn’t move Hyuntak much, but it was enough to put space between them. Enough to say he meant it.
“So that was a mistake to you?” Juntae’s voice cracked in the middle, but he didn’t stop. He turned on his heel and walked away, tossing the bloody tissue to the ground like it burned.
Hyuntak didn’t follow. He just stood there, watching him disappear, hands still tingling from the fight, lips still burning from the kiss.
Behind him, Suho let out a low sigh and patted his shoulder.
“Dude,” he muttered, “You had one job, and you really fucked it up.”
>-<
The walk to school was quiet. Too quiet.
Suho kept glancing at Hyuntak, waiting for him to say something, anything—but Hyuntak just stared ahead, his fists in his pockets, his mind still swimming somewhere in that tunnel. The kiss. Juntae’s eyes. The blood. The sound of his voice—“A mistake?”
Sieun didn’t ask. He just walked beside them in his usual calm silence, but even he could feel the tension buzzing off Hyuntak like a low-grade electrical current.
They arrived at the school gates just as Baku bounded over, cheerful as always, slinging his bag higher on his shoulder.
“Yooo, you guys are late. Where’s the baby?” he asked, looking around as if Juntae would appear from thin air.
“In class already,” Suho answered quickly, too quickly. “We’ll catch up.”
Baku squinted at him. “Huh? He didn’t walk with you guys?”
Suho shrugged and tried to change the subject, pointing to something meaningless across the yard. “Did you hear math teacher cancelled the quiz for tomorrow?”
But Baku’s eyes narrowed just a bit. Sieun glanced at Hyuntak, then at Suho. Something wasn’t right. But neither of them said anything—they just followed the others into the classroom.
Juntae was there, head down on his arms, not even pretending to care about his surroundings. The cut on his cheek had dried, a thin red line running across pale skin. It wasn’t deep, but it stood out starkly. Sieun’s brows furrowed. He moved to his desk beside him.
“You okay?”
Juntae didn’t look up. “Fine.”
“Fine?” Baku echoed from behind, then leaned over the desk to get a better look. “What the hell happened to your face?! Did someone mess with you? Did you fall? Trip on air? Get attacked by a ghost?”
Juntae closed his eyes. “I’m just tired. Gonna sleep.”
That was it. No further explanation. He curled into himself like he could disappear, and Baku stared down at him, obviously unsatisfied.
Hyuntak stood a few desks away, watching the shape of Juntae’s back, the way his shoulders were drawn in like a shield. His stomach twisted.
He didn’t say a word.
The morning dragged. Juntae didn’t stir. Even when the bell rang for lunch and students started pouring out of the classroom, he stayed behind, scribbling something into his notebook before muttering that he’d be in the library.
Sieun, who hadn’t let the weird vibe go unnoticed, glanced at Hyuntak once more—still silent, still stiff—then quietly followed Juntae out.
That left Hyuntak, Suho, and Baku alone in the classroom.
When the last student left and the room fell quiet, Baku finally spoke, this time serious. “Alright. Someone’s telling me what the hell’s going on.”
Hyuntak rubbed the back of his neck. “I…”
But he trailed off.
Suho stepped in, voice even. “We found Juntae getting mugged this morning. Four guys. One had a knife. We stopped them, but during the fight… Hyuntak lost control.”
Hyuntak flinched.
“And after,” Suho continued, “he kissed him.”
Baku’s jaw dropped. “You kissed him?!”
Hyuntak winced. “It wasn’t—it just happened. I didn’t think. He was hurt and I just—”
“Oh my god.” Baku ran a hand through his hair, then slapped Hyuntak’s arm, not hard, just enough to jolt him. “Dude. Dude. You had ONE job.”
“I know,” Hyuntak groaned, burying his face in his hands.
“He thinks it was a mistake,” Suho added, not unkindly. “That’s what he told Juntae. The kid stormed off.”
“You what?” Baku stared at Hyuntak in disbelief. “You save the guy, beat the crap outta his attackers, kiss him like you mean it, and then say it’s a mistake? No wonder he’s in the library hiding.”
“I panicked!” Hyuntak snapped. “He was bleeding, and I wasn’t thinking straight, and it just happened—then it was like, shit, I kissed him, what if I made everything worse, what if—”
“You did make it worse,” Baku cut in, more gently this time. “But it’s not beyond saving.”
Hyuntak looked up, eyes heavy.
Baku sighed, leaning back against a desk. “Look, he’s not made of glass, but he’s close. You’ve gotta fix it before that little heart of his locks itself in a vault.”
Suho nodded. “Tell him what you really feel. No excuses. No dodging.”
Hyuntak swallowed, heart thudding.
“Okay,” he said quietly. “I’ll talk to him. Today. After school.”
Baku grinned and nudged his shoulder. “There’s the brave idiot we know.”
And Hyuntak let out a breath, steadying himself.
He didn’t know if Juntae would forgive him.
But he’d try.
He had to.
>-<
The classroom hummed with the low murmur of students trickling back from lunch. The group—Suho, Baku, Sieun, Hyuntak, and Juntae—settled into their usual spots, but there was an unspoken tension hanging in the air.
Juntae was quiet, staring ahead, arms folded tightly across his chest. Sieun, as always, sat close to him, but this time, his gaze was cold, almost scrutinizing, though he said nothing.
Baku, never one to stay quiet for long, was already in the middle of an animated story. “I swear, I could have been a professional chef if they’d just let me cook anything besides instant ramen.”
Suho chuckled, shaking his head. “You’d probably burn the kitchen down before you made a single bowl.”
“Hey, I can make delicious ramen,” Baku protested. “There’s a fine art to that.”
Sieun, usually quick with his dry comments, remained silent, his eyes flickering between Baku and Juntae. He had noticed the change in Juntae—his tense posture, his silence—and was watching him closely. Hyuntak, too, could feel the weight of the situation but didn’t know how to fix it.
“I’ll make you guys ramen one day,” Baku continued, glancing over at the group. “It’ll be a feast of excellence.”
Hyuntak, not really feeling like adding much, but still wanting to join the conversation, simply muttered, “I’ll pass. I’ve seen Baku ‘cook.’”
That earned a short laugh from Suho. “Yeah, no one’s buying that culinary masterpiece.”
But still, Juntae didn’t respond, keeping his gaze locked forward.
Suho tried to break the awkwardness, throwing a smile in Juntae’s direction. “So, Juntae, how’s the physics homework going?”
Juntae didn’t look up. His voice, when he spoke, was sharp and distant. “Fine,” he muttered, his tone cold, as if even that small acknowledgment took effort.
Hyuntak shifted uncomfortably, sensing the gap widening between him and Juntae. He swallowed, trying to think of something else to say, but all he managed was a quiet, “Yeah, physics is a pain.”
Juntae’s eyes flickered to Hyuntak for a brief second before he turned away again, the faintest hint of annoyance in his expression. Hyuntak froze, but said nothing more. It felt wrong—like he was standing too close to something fragile that might break if he pushed any further.
Sieun, still sitting beside Juntae, took a slow, almost deliberate breath. His gaze flickered to Hyuntak, sharp and knowing. He didn’t speak, but the look was clear—he could see what Hyuntak was trying to do, and he wasn’t sure it was going to work. Not yet.
As the moments passed, Baku tried to salvage the situation with another attempt at humor. “Well, if Hyuntak here is passing on my ramen, I guess I’ll have to give it to someone who appreciates fine dining.”
But his words landed flat, and the air around the group felt heavy.
Hyuntak, unsure of how to keep going, shifted again in his seat. His gaze briefly landed on Juntae, but the look in the younger boy’s eyes was enough to make his stomach twist in regret.
The silence stretched. Juntae wasn’t angry. He wasn’t shouting. But the coldness in his tone and body language spoke volumes. He was hurt, and Hyuntak didn’t know how to fix it. Not yet.
>-<
The school bell echoed through the courtyard, signaling the end of the day. As students hurried out of the building, talking and laughing, Juntae abruptly stood up, grabbed his bag, and walked toward the door without waiting for anyone else.
Suho, Baku, and Sieun exchanged surprised glances. Hyuntak, still processing the events of earlier, stared after Juntae, unsure of what to do. He hadn’t expected this sudden departure, and the tension between them was so thick it almost felt suffocating.
Sieun, after a long moment of silence, turned to Hyuntak with a cold but serious expression. "Follow him," he said flatly, his eyes narrowing. "Fix what you've broken."
Hyuntak, still in shock, nodded mutely. He couldn’t think of anything else to do but follow.
He walked out of the classroom, eyes trailing Juntae from a distance. The crowd of students scattered as they moved further down the hallway, and Hyuntak kept a careful distance, trying not to make his presence known. Juntae walked quickly, his back tense, eyes ahead. Hyuntak’s heart pounded, his mind racing, but he couldn’t find the right words to say.
After a few more turns and a narrowing of the walkway, they found themselves in an empty alleyway, quiet and secluded. Hyuntak, now a few steps behind, quickened his pace, finally closing the distance. He reached out and grabbed Juntae’s arm to stop him.
Juntae yanked his arm away forcefully, not even sparing him a glance. He kept walking.
Hyuntak took a deep breath, steeling himself. He knew he couldn’t let this go on, not when things had already reached such a breaking point. He moved forward again, this time holding Juntae’s arm firmly, stopping him in his tracks.
Juntae froze. His eyes flickered to Hyuntak’s hand, and when their gazes met, there was nothing but a quiet, broken expression on Juntae’s face. Hyuntak immediately let go as if the touch burned him, stepping back, unsure of what to do. Juntae, still not looking at him, seemed almost too calm.
After a moment of silence, Hyuntak, his voice strained, finally spoke.
“I’m sorry,” he said, barely above a whisper.
Juntae didn’t respond right away. His face remained blank for a few beats, before he turned his head slowly to meet Hyuntak’s gaze. There was disbelief in his eyes.
“I’m sorry for… the kiss.”
Juntae’s expression shifted, the corners of his lips curling into a mocking smile. He took a few steps back, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Yeah, that mistake," he said bitterly. "You should keep your distance to not repeat it again." His words were sharp and cold, cutting deep.
Hyuntak’s heart cracked at the sight of him—he had never seen Juntae so broken, so angry. But he didn’t have the time to wallow in self-pity. He couldn’t afford to let this moment slip away.
“Can you please let me talk before stabbing me with your words?” he asked, voice rough with frustration and emotion.
Juntae’s eyes narrowed, but despite the anger on his face, he stepped back, folding his arms. His gaze was wounded, but he gave Hyuntak space to continue.
Hyuntak swallowed hard, trying to find the right words, though they felt so foreign on his tongue. "I’m sorry for kissing you so suddenly," he started again, his voice steadying. "My mind was so overloaded with feelings—fear, anger, worry—that I just… short-circuited. I didn’t think about what I was doing."
He took a deep breath before pushing forward. "I like you, Juntae. More than a friend does. I care about you. I want to protect you—from the world, from everything that might hurt you. And seeing you in danger… it hurts me more than anything. That’s why I overreacted, why I couldn’t stop myself from fighting. I couldn’t stand seeing you hurt."
Juntae stood still, his expression unreadable at first, but his eyes softened with something that looked like confusion—or maybe disbelief. Hyuntak held his breath, afraid that the words would fall flat. Juntae didn’t respond right away. The silence between them stretched too long, and Hyuntak began to feel the sting of doubt. He thought maybe, just maybe, Juntae would say something. Anything. But the silence felt like rejection, and Hyuntak’s heart dropped.
“I’m sorry,” he muttered again, his voice thick with regret. “I just… I ‘ll try to keep things the same between us. I don’t want my feelings to ruin our friendship.”
He looked down, his hands clenching at his sides. "Let’s pretend it never happened. Let’s go back to how things were. I don’t want to make this harder for you."
Before Hyuntak could continue, Juntae cut him off with a single word, his voice low but full of emotion.
"Pabo."
Hyuntak froze, stunned by the word. Juntae had never sworn before. Never. It felt like a slap to the face, but in the best way.
Juntae looked at him then, his face softer but still wounded. “You think I had a shitty day just because you kissed me without my permission?” He stepped closer to Hyuntak, his voice growing louder and more intense. “Don’t you ever think that maybe it’s because the boy I like said it was a mistake after fucking kissing me? Did they hit your head too hard?”
Hyuntak stood frozen for a moment, trying to process what he’d just heard. “You… You mean… The boy you like?”
“Aish, they really fucking did, Tak-ah,” Juntae muttered, shaking his head. There was no anger left in his voice, just an exhausted, broken kind of sadness. Hyuntak’s heart hammered in his chest.
Juntae’s eyes were glossy with unshed tears, and Hyuntak, finally realizing what was happening, took a step forward, his hand reaching out gently to touch Juntae’s face.
“I’m not sorry for kissing you,” he said, his voice firm but tender. “The only mistake I made was not asking for your permission first. But kissing you? That was the best decision I’ve ever made. The best experience of my life.”
Juntae sighed, his shoulders dropping as if the weight of the conversation had exhausted him. "If you were this good with words, why did you tell me the most hurtful thing back then?" he huffed, a small, tired smile breaking through his frustration.
Hyuntak, desperate to make up for it, leaned forward and gently pinched the uninjured cheek of Juntae, his other hand brushing over the scar on the other cheek. He looked at him, his emotions so strong they felt like they might spill over.
"I was so worried that they could hurt you," he said softly, his thumb caressing the scar. "I couldn’t think straight. I made a mistake, and I never want to make it again. This time, I want to do it right."
He cupped Juntae’s cheeks in his hands, his eyes searching Juntae’s face for any sign of hesitation. "Can I kiss you, Jun-ah?"
Juntae’s face softened, and for the first time that day, a genuine smile tugged at his lips. His eyes were filled with affection as he leaned forward and pressed a quick, shy kiss to Hyuntak’s lips.
"Pabo," he whispered against Hyuntak’s lips. "Never ever take permission before kissing me again."
Hyuntak’s heart swelled with relief, and he smiled widely before leaning in, closing the space between them, and kissing him properly, with everything he’d been holding back.
It was their kiss, a kiss that had taken so long to get right—but it was worth every second.