Chapter Text
Sundays were for studying.
Well — for Sieun, they were.
The others had agreed to join him out of something between guilt and peer pressure, but the way Baku was spinning a pen like a fidget toy, Hyuntak was scrolling between notes and cat reels, and Juntae had already taken a nap with his head on the table... let’s just say only two of them were actually reading.
Sieun sat at the corner of their usual café booth, textbook open, highlighter poised like a weapon.
Suho sat beside him. Not studying. Just... there. Present. Watching Sieun flip pages with that focused frown of his.
It was peaceful. Quiet.
Until it wasn’t.
The café door jingled open. Suho barely looked up — until he heard it.
That voice.
“I was wondering if you'd still hang out in places like this.”
It wasn’t loud.
But it sliced.
Suho’s body went still.
Sieun’s highlighter paused mid-sentence.
Slowly — very slowly — he turned a page.
“I was wondering if you still breathed,” Sieun replied flatly, not looking up.
The boy standing at their table smiled like he’d just scored the winning point. Like this was a game and he already had the upper hand.
Seongjae.
Suho’s eyes narrowed instantly. His grip on the edge of the table tightened.
That voice.
That voice had said, “your face is punchable” outside a hospital room.
That voice had said, “you’re so my type.”
That voice had smirked when Suho couldn’t move.
Now, it was in front of them.
In their space.
And Suho’s blood turned to ice.
“I heard Baekjin’s little empire crumbled,” Seongjae said, settling far too casually into Baku’s empty seat across the table. “Thought I’d find you next.”
Sieun blinked. “Why?”
Seongjae leaned forward. “Because someone needs to lead. And let’s face it — you’re not just good. You’re terrifying. That’s rare.”
Sieun turned another page.
“I’m more interested in my physics exam.”
“You’re more fun when you’re breaking someone’s ribs.”
Sieun’s gaze flicked up. Blank. Cold.
“Try coming back when you’re not boring me.”
Seongjae laughed — a smooth, theatrical sound. “Still sharp. You missed me, admit it.”
Suho finally spoke. Quiet. Controlled.
“You’re the one who said all that outside the hospital, right?”
Seongjae turned. “Ohhh. That’s right. You were half-dead back then.”
Suho’s hand curled into a fist in his lap.
“You said something about Sieun being ‘your type.’ Funny thing to say to someone who almost killed you.”
Seongjae smiled. “Well, I meant it.”
And just like that, the air shifted.
Suho’s face darkened.
He didn’t yell. He didn’t threaten.
But he leaned forward — just slightly — eyes locked.
“You think it’s cute to say that again now? With me sitting here?”
“You jealous?”
Suho smiled. But it wasn’t kind.
“No. I just don’t like people playing games with things that don’t belong to them.”
Sieun didn’t say anything.
Didn’t correct Suho.
Didn’t flinch.
Didn’t even look at him.
But the highlighter in his hand snapped in half.
Baku returned with drinks.
Took one look at Seongjae.
And froze.
“What the hell is he doing here?”
“Making friends,” Seongjae said, sipping someone else’s iced latte.
Hyuntak walked in behind him, and his entire posture tensed. “You have five seconds to get out before I forget this is a public place.”
Seongjae’s smile widened. “Awww, come on. Don’t I get points for offering a truce?”
“No,” Baku said flatly. “You don’t get points for anything.”
Sieun finally looked up. Not at Seongjae.
At Suho.
Just for a second.
Then back at his notes.
“I don’t work with people who betray others for fun,” he said.
“Oh come on, you’re not still mad about that—”
“I don’t get mad. I get done,” Sieun cut in sharply. “And I’m done with you.”
That silence hit hard.
Even Juntae sat up.
Seongjae... laughed.
But this time, it didn’t reach his eyes.
“You’re cold,” he said, shaking his head. “But you’re still hot when you’re mad.”
Wrong move.
Suho pushed his chair back.
Baku stood up too.
Even Hyuntak cracked his knuckles.
“You wanna say that again?” Suho asked, quiet but deadly.
Seongjae raised his hands. “What, I’m not allowed to compliment him? He’s beautiful. Dangerous. That’s my type.”
“You’re pathetic,” Suho snapped.
Sieun stood up.
Everyone paused.
Sieun stepped around the table, placing himself between Seongjae and Suho. Not to protect Seongjae.
To contain Suho.
He looked Seongjae dead in the eye.
“Don’t talk to me like we’re equals.”
Seongjae blinked.
Sieun continued, voice even colder.
“And don’t look at him like that again. Not unless you want to finish what Baekjin started.”
It wasn’t loud.
It didn’t need to be.
Seongjae stared at him — and something faltered in that smug grin.
For the first time, he looked... uncertain.
“I’ll take my latte to go,” he muttered.
He stood. Walked. Didn’t look back.
As soon as the door shut behind him, Baku collapsed dramatically into his seat.
“Can we go back to fake studying now?”
Hyuntak tossed a straw at his face. “You never started studying.”
“I was emotionally preparing.”
Juntae, wide-eyed, whispered, “That was terrifying.”
Suho hadn’t moved.
His eyes were still on the door.
Sieun touched his wrist lightly.
“You okay?” he asked.
Suho looked at him. And something in his expression softened.
“You didn’t deny it,” he said quietly.
Sieun blinked.
Suho smiled, a little crooked. “When I said you weren’t his to touch.”
Sieun shrugged.
“You weren’t wrong.”