Chapter Text
Hyuntak had never been the type to overthink things. He fought when he had to, stood up when it mattered, and laughed loudest when the people around him felt like family. But lately, something had shifted—quietly, insistently, like water seeping through a crack in stone. It wasn’t something he could punch away or ignore. It followed him around, especially in the early mornings, when the streets were quiet and Juntae's sleepy face would round the corner.
He told himself it was nothing. Just a feeling. Just a phase. Just the way people changed when they got close.
But “just” didn’t explain why his heart beat faster when Juntae smiled. Or why he started waiting a little longer at their meeting spot, pretending he wasn’t. Or why the thought of Juntae smiling at someone else made something cold and sharp twist in his gut. He couldn’t understand himself anymore.
He’d been losing the fight with his own mind lately—every time Juntae brushed against his shoulder, every time their laughter stretched too long, too soft. He kept catching himself staring, zoning out in class, replaying moments that shouldn’t mean anything. But they did. And it scared the hell out of him.
Everyone else seemed at peace, like they’d finally found solid ground again after the chaos with the Union. The halls of Eunjang High were calm. No fists flying. No blood on their knuckles. Just quiet mornings, crowded cafeterias, and the low buzz of school life trying to feel normal again.
Suho was back and in their school now, and that felt like gravity returning. He’d started attending classes with them, sticking to Si-eun’s side like he’d never left. The two were practically glued together, moving through the day in sync. No one said anything about it anymore—it was just the way things were. They had their own quiet understanding, unspoken and solid. Like they didn’t need to explain themselves to anyone, not even each other.
Hyuntak sometimes watched them and wondered if people had looked at him and Juntae that way—two people drawn together without trying, orbiting closer, unconsciously. He hoped not. He wasn’t ready for that kind of exposure, not when he still couldn’t untangle his own thoughts.
It wasn’t just the mornings anymore. It was everything. The way Juntae’s eyes lit up when he understood something in class. The way he mumbled half-awake greetings when they walked to school. The way he laughed at Hyuntak’s dumbest jokes, like they were genuinely funny.
And then there were the small things—the snacks Hyuntak bought without thinking, the texts he sent just to make sure Juntae got home safe, the way he found himself watching Juntae when he thought no one was paying attention. He never used to do those things. Not for Baku. Not for anyone. It aint seem like a friendship anymore.
Maybe it had started as a crush. Maybe it was something else now.
He didn’t know what to do with it. All he knew was that it wouldn’t go away. And no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t force it back into whatever box it had slipped out of.
And worse—he could feel the shift in Juntae, too. He’d started acting differently. Not toward anyone else. Just him. Like their “only friends” dynamic didn’t sit right anymore, like it was slipping, cracking at the edges. Juntae had started spacing out in the middle of conversations, his mood swinging without warning. Sometimes he laughed too hard. Sometimes he barely said a word.
Their friends noticed. Hyuntak saw it in Si-eun’s furrowed brow, the way Baku glanced at them both like he was working out a puzzle in his head. Maybe they knew. Maybe they didn’t.
Hyuntak didn’t know what scared him more.
>-<
Baku knew something was wrong with Hyuntak by the way he didn’t laugh at his stupid joke about the math teacher’s eyebrows.
It was a solid joke. The kind of joke that usually earned him a snort and a shove to the shoulder. But this time, Hyuntak just blinked, offered a half-smile, and stared back out the classroom window like it owed him answers.
Baku didn’t say anything right away. He just watched. Noticed how Hyuntak had barely spoken all day, how his gaze kept drifting off mid-conversation, how he kept pulling at the cuff of his sleeve like it was the only thing holding him together. It wasn’t like him. Sure, Hyuntak had his quiet moments, but this—this wasn’t quiet. This was distance.
So between classes, while they leaned on the stairwell railing like they always did, Baku elbowed him gently in the ribs and said, “Hey. You good? You look like someone told you they canceled the whole summer break.”
Hyuntak smirked at that—barely. “Just tired.”
“Right. And I’m secretly class president.”
That earned him nothing but a shrug.
It felt wrong. Off. Like music playing out of tune, and no one else was noticing but him.
Baku didn’t push. Not then. Not when Hyuntak wasn’t ready to talk. But he knew what to do.
So when the final bell rang and the halls emptied out, Baku swung his bag over his shoulder and caught Hyuntak’s eye with a grin that didn’t quite match the softness in his voice.
“Grab a beer with me? Park’s not far. It’s been a minute.”
Hyuntak hesitated—just for a second—but then nodded. And that was all Baku needed.
They didn’t talk much on the way there. Just walked side by side, the city buzzing low around them, shoes scuffing against cracked pavement. The park was quiet, shaded by thick trees still shaking off winter, with patches of soft grass littered with last year's leaves. They found their usual bench near the far side, out of the way, hidden in the kind of spot where secrets liked to linger.
The beers were cold enough. Cheap enough. Familiar.
They cracked them open and sipped in silence for a while, letting the world settle around them.
Baku was the first to speak. “Remember when we got caught drinking here in second year and tried to pretend we were just hydrating aggressively?”
Hyuntak let out a quiet laugh. “Didn’t work.”
“Nope. Still worth it.”
They shared a smile. The kind that carried old memories. The kind that made things feel a little less heavy—for a minute.
Baku took another sip, leaning back on the bench, watching the branches sway overhead. “You used to tell me everything, you know.”
Hyuntak didn’t respond right away. Just stared down at his drink, fingers tightening around the can.
Baku didn’t press. Not yet.
Another beat passed, quieter this time.
“I know something’s messing with you,” he said, voice softer now. “And I get it if you don’t wanna say. But I’m here. I always am.”
Hyuntak sighed—long, tired, from somewhere deep in his chest.
His hands gripped the can tighter, knuckles whitening. He’d known Baku for years now—years of dumb jokes, stupid bets, shared silence in the middle of chaos—and he had never felt this nervous about anything. Ever.
It wasn’t like he didn’t want to tell him. It was just... the weight of it felt too big, too real. He’d spent so much time fighting it, pretending he didn’t feel the way he did. He wasn’t supposed to feel this way, right?
It was just... too much.
Baku noticed the way Hyuntak was gripping the can, his fingers curling around it, as if trying to hold himself together. He took a long sip from his own drink, watching his best friend quietly.
“Hey,” Baku said after a moment, his voice light, “You sure you’re good? You’ve been looking like someone told you your favorite team lost by a hundred points.”
Hyuntak forced a laugh, but it felt tight, like a rope wrapped too thin around his chest. He tried to swallow the lump in his throat but failed.
“I... think I like someone,” Hyuntak said, the words slipping out before he could stop them. His voice wasn’t steady, not like he wanted it to be. It was shaky. It sounded wrong, like a confession he hadn’t planned to make.
Baku didn’t say anything. He didn’t try to fill the silence with some smart comment or crack a joke. He just waited, looking at him with that understanding in his eyes. He wasn’t pushing, but he wasn’t letting Hyuntak back out either.
“And I think I’m not supposed to,” Hyuntak added, swallowing hard.
“Not supposed to?” Baku repeated, raising an eyebrow, his tone still light but with a hint of curiosity. “Why? Did they wear socks with sandals or something? Bad taste in music?”
Hyuntak managed a weak, almost pained laugh, shaking his head. “It’s not like that.”
Baku tilted his head, squinting in his usual way when he was piecing something together. “Is it someone I know?”
Hyuntak froze, his heart hammering in his chest, and for a second, he just stared at the can in his hands, staring like it might somehow solve everything for him. The words felt heavier than they should have. He wasn’t sure how to say it, how to make it sound like it wasn’t the biggest thing in the world.
His voice barely broke through, low and hesitant, “It’s Juntae.”
There was a long, stretched silence. Baku blinked, looked at him like he’d misheard, and then blinked again, slowly sitting up straighter. His gaze softened, but the smile didn’t fall from his face—he wasn’t shocked. He wasn’t judging. He was just... waiting for the rest.
“Okay,” Baku said casually, but his eyes had sharpened, still holding that steady, easy gaze that made Hyuntak feel like the weight of the world wasn’t on him.
“Okay?” Hyuntak echoed, blinking at Baku, trying to find some sign that he wasn’t completely insane.
“Yeah, okay.” Baku shrugged, popping the tab on his can again, a grin tugging at the corner of his lips. “Makes sense, actually. I mean... it’s Juntae. Who wouldn’t, right?”
Hyuntak’s heart felt like it had stopped in his chest. He wasn’t sure if it was relief or the beginning of something else—something more complicated. “You’re not weirded out?”
Baku gave him a flat look. “Weirded out? Please. I’m not that old-fashioned, man. I mean, sure, I can be a little protective, but... it’s Juntae. You like him? Cool. Do your thing.”
But then, without missing a beat, Baku’s grin widened into something teasing, and he leaned forward, his voice loud and exaggerated. “Wait. Juntae? Dude, don’t you dare go making moves on him yet. He’s, like, what? Sixteen? A baby. You can’t—he’s just a kid. Don’t make me get the protectiveness speech out. I’m about to put my big brother hat on if you’re serious.”
Hyuntak blinked, taken aback by the sudden shift. “What? Big brother hat?”
Baku wagged a finger in his face, pointing dramatically. “Yeah, man. You’re looking at the unofficial president of the Juntae fan club, and guess what? He’s not even legal yet. You know what they say about teenage hearts and being careful with ‘em, right? Don’t do anything stupid until he’s at least eighteen. I’m watching you.”
Hyuntak couldn’t help but laugh, the sound rough but genuine, the tension lifting just a little. Baku, always Baku. Even in the middle of something like this, he could still make Hyuntak feel like everything was going to be fine. Like maybe it wasn’t all that complicated after all.
“Alright, alright, I get it,” Hyuntak said, rolling his eyes, though his shoulders were lighter now. “I’m not about to, like, marry him, man. Chill.”
“Good. Because I’m not giving my blessing until he’s out of high school. Got it?” Baku said, grinning widely. “But seriously, if you two ever decide to talk about it... you can, y’know. I’ve got your back. Even if you’re being a little dumb about it. You can still make it work.”
Hyuntak let out a long breath, feeling the weight lift off his chest, even if just a little. He’d been so scared—scared of this conversation, scared of being that guy—but Baku didn’t make him feel like it was anything to be scared of. Just another part of growing up. Just another part of their friendship.
The silence that followed was a little heavier, like both of them had shifted into deeper territory—territory neither of them were used to navigating. Hyuntak took another sip of his beer, his mind turning over the same thought that had been gnawing at him for days.
“You really think...?” Hyuntak started, his voice quieter now. “I mean... what if he doesn’t... like guys? What if it’s just me being dumb, thinking things that aren’t even there?”
Baku’s eyes narrowed slightly, his face softening. He paused, then shook his head. “Come on, man. You’ve been overthinking this way too much. You think Juntae’s the type to hide what he feels?”
Hyuntak let out a long breath, staring at the ground. The answer to that question would be a yes, if you asked him. Juntae wasn’t exactly the type to share his feelings openly. “But what if he’s not? What if he doesn’t feel the same way? I mean... he’s... he’s not like me?”
Baku took a slow drink, then leaned back with a small grin, clearly unphased by Hyuntak’s worry. “You’re worrying about the wrong thing,” he said, his voice light but serious. “He’s a big boy. If he doesn’t like you, you’ll know. And if he does? He’ll show you eventually. That’s how this thing works.”
Hyuntak’s mind whirled, still unsure. “Yeah, but what if he doesn’t even like men? I mean... I don’t know, dude. Maybe I’m just imagining it all.”
Baku’s grin turned mischievous, his eyebrows arching in that playful, knowing way. “If you’re really that uncertain, I know how to figure it out. Just leave it to me.”
Hyuntak’s eyes widened, his gut instinct flaring with unease. “What? No. Don’t... don’t go doing weird shit. Seriously.”
Baku waved a hand dismissively, like it was no big deal. “It’s not weird, bro. Trust me, I’ve got this covered. I’ll ask him, or drop some subtle hints—whatever it takes. You’re too much of a mess to do it yourself, anyway.”
Hyuntak didn’t like the idea, didn’t feel comfortable with it. But Baku was already looking at him with that overconfident grin, like he knew exactly what he was doing. And Hyuntak had no other choice—no way to get out of it.
He let out a resigned sigh, shaking his head. “I’m trusting you, but if this backfires—”
“It won’t,” Baku interrupted, popping the tab on his can again. “Just leave it to me, alright? I’ll figure it out. You just... stop worrying so much. You’re making my head hurt with all your ‘what if’s.’”
Hyuntak gave him a side-eye, still unsure but willing to go along with it. “You better not mess this up.”
“I’m the last person who’d mess something up,” Baku said with a mock pout. “Besides, you need to stop being so dramatic. It’s just Juntae.”
The weight in Hyuntak’s chest eased just a bit—still heavy, but a little lighter now. He could only hope Baku was right. That he wasn’t just building things up in his head.
“Fine,” Hyuntak muttered. “I do count on you. But if you screw this up, I swear I’ll—”
Baku’s grin widened, cutting him off. “You’ll do nothing. You’ll thank me later.”
Hyuntak didn’t have the energy to argue anymore. He leaned back against the bench, eyes focused on the night sky.
>-<
The cafeteria was bustling with noise, the usual chatter of students filling the air as trays clattered and silverware scraped against plates. Hyuntak sat at their usual table, his head resting on his hand as he fought off the ache that throbbed at his temples. The aftermath of last night’s beer-fueled heart-to-heart with Baku was definitely catching up with him, and he could barely keep his eyes open.
Sieun, Suho, and Juntae were already seated when Hyuntak made his way to the table, slumping down into his seat with a tired groan.
"You're looking rough, man," Baku teased, sitting across from him with a grin that didn't quite match the sleepy haze in Hyuntak's eyes. "You sure you're not secretly a lightweight?"
"Shut up," Hyuntak grumbled, rubbing his forehead. "I think my brain is permanently damaged from last night."
Baku snorted, then launched into a ridiculous story about something that had happened on their way to school. His exaggerated gestures and goofy expressions made the table burst into laughter, including Juntae, who was in a rare good mood today. His eyes were brighter than usual, the hint of a smile playing at the corners of his lips as he laughed at Baku's antics.
Sieun, not one to openly laugh loudly, gave a small but genuine smile as he listened, and Suho sat back, grinning in his laid-back way as he joined in on the conversation.
Everything seemed to flow naturally, and Hyuntak almost found himself distracted from his headache—until Baku, in his usual chaotic style, suddenly dropped a question that cut through the noise like a knife.
“Yah, Sieun,” Baku said, leaning forward with a devilish grin, “Are you gay?”
The words hung in the air like an explosion. Silence fell over the table instantly. Hyuntak blinked, momentarily frozen. His headache seemed to sharpen with the tension. Suho coughed, choking slightly on a bite of his food, and Juntae visibly stiffened, his eyes flickering between Baku and Sieun, unsure of how to react. Hyuntak just stared at Baku, his brain having trouble processing what the hell had just happened.
Sieun, calm as ever, didn’t answer with words. Instead, he slowly raised his hand, just enough to reveal what was hidden under the table: his fingers intertwined with Suho’s. He held their joined hands out for everyone to see, the simple gesture speaking volumes.
Baku’s grin didn’t falter. He looked at Sieun’s hand, then gave an exaggerated nod. “Yeah, right,” he said casually, like it was no big deal. “I always figured.”
Hyuntak blinked again, trying to wrap his mind around it. He had always known about Suho and Sieun, of course, but seeing Sieun’s quiet confirmation in front of everyone... it was different. It was real.
Baku, completely unfazed, turned to Juntae, his grin growing even wider. “What about you, buddy?” he asked, still referring to the same ridiculous video. “Are you gay?”
Juntae’s eyes widened, and he froze, his face flushing a deep red. His gaze darted to Hyuntak, who was watching him closely, feeling his heart beat a little faster with each passing second. Juntae stuttered slightly as he tried to find words, looking as if he wanted to shrink into the floor.
“I- I don’t know...” Juntae muttered, his voice shy and unsure. “I’ve never... never dated anyone before... But I... I don’t think I’m, uhm, opposite to the idea?”
Hyuntak’s chest tightened. He held his breath as he watched Juntae, a small flicker of hope sparking in his chest. Maybe, just maybe, Juntae didn’t hate the idea. Maybe he could see it too.
Baku, ever the big brother, slapped him on the back with a grin. “I know you’ll date someone one day, buddy,” he said, voice full of that comforting, easygoing warmth he always exuded. “Hope they treat you well, man or woman, doesn’t matter. You deserve the best.”
Juntae, still blushing, nodded quickly, as if he was grateful for the reassurance, even if he didn’t fully understand what Baku meant. Hyuntak couldn’t help but feel a little bit lighter as the conversation shifted, Baku and Suho launching into some ridiculous new topic about their plans for the weekend.
But in the back of his mind, Hyuntak couldn’t shake the thought that had lodged itself there like a stubborn seed. Juntae hadn’t said no. He hadn’t said yes, either. But there was something there—something small, but real.
As the table erupted into another round of laughter, Hyuntak found himself staring at Juntae, the spark of hope inside him growing just a little bit brighter. Maybe he was just overthinking it. Maybe it was nothing. But for the first time in a long while, he let himself believe that maybe, just maybe, something could come of this—something more than just their usual banter.
And that thought kept him warm through the rest of lunch.
>-<