Chapter Text
The morning light filters through the blinds differently today. Or maybe it just feels different.
Nicholas stands in front of the mirror, adjusting the strap of his bag for the third time. “You look fine,” Euijoo says from the kitchen table, chewing half-heartedly on toast. He’s dressed in his usual neat style, straight hair covering his forehead, collar buttoned all the way up. He’s always been good at hiding nerves behind straight lines.
But today, they both feel them.
It’s the first time in four years they won’t be attending the same class, walking the same halls. High school had made them a pair, an unshakable constant. College broke that rhythm.
They head out together anyway, falling into step side by side like always. Their paths split at the subway station.
“You’ll text me if you get lost, right?” Nicholas says, half-joking.
Euijoo hums. “Only if you promise not to skip lunch again.”
They linger a second too long. A woman nudges past them with a huff and the moment breaks. Euijoo waves as he steps onto the train. Nicholas doesn’t wave back until the doors are almost closed.
Euijoo’s first class is in a bright room filled with strangers. The professor is nice, the content interesting—but the seat next to him stays empty. He keeps glancing at it, half expecting Nichol to slide in, whispering dumb jokes under his breath. He takes notes meticulously, like always, but it feels performative without someone to lean over and explain the funny parts to.
Meanwhile, Nicholas’s in a studio room with scattered tables and a lot of eager energy. He’s excited—really, he is. He chose this major because it lights him up. But halfway through the class, as the professor walks them through their first assignment, he catches himself thinking: Juju would’ve loved this part. Or hated it. Either way, he’d have said something snarky and I’d be laughing instead of focusing right now.
He doesn’t laugh. He works. He tries.
By the afternoon, both are feeling the drain—not from the classes themselves, but from the absence. They don’t text. They don’t want to interrupt. But each thinks about the other constantly.
Euijoo has lunch alone for the first time in years. He checks his phone and opens their shared grocery list by accident, staring at “buy more strawberry milk” with a pang of loneliness.
Nicholas, who finally gets out of class, considers going to a café. But ends up heading home instead. He drops his bag on the floor and flops face-first onto the living room rug.
When Euijoo opens the door at dusk, the first thing he sees is a pair of legs splayed out across the floor. Then the rest of Nicholas, starfish-shaped and still, like he’s been emotionally KO’ed by life itself.
Euijoo doesn’t say anything. Just toed off his shoes and laid down next to him, slotting into the space beside him like a puzzle piece.
They stay like that for a while. Sharing the same air, the same silence, the same rhythm.
“…Today was weird,” Nicholas mutters.
“Yeah,” Euijoo agrees. “Totally weird.”
Nicholas hums. “Let’s never do this again.”
Euijoo chuckles, nudging their arms together. “Unfortunately, college lasts four years.”
Nicholas groans.
But in that quiet moment, the distance of the day melts away. They’re together again. And everything’s fine.