Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It really shouldn’t have come as such a surprise.

Mi-ae had known it deep down for months — she had just chosen to ignore it. Pretending it wasn’t happening had simply been easier. Easier than facing it. Easier than accepting it.

And it wasn’t Cheol’s fault either. Mi-ae knew he had tried — really tried — to talk to her about it. But the thing was, she had always been good at making excuses. Always ready with one whenever their conversations started to get too serious.

It shouldn’t have come as a surprise.

But that didn’t make it any less of one when she saw Cheol standing awkwardly in front of her — head freshly shaved, nervously fidgeting with the cap in his hands.

Mi-ae could feel her heart pounding in her ears.

“When?” she asked, even though she feared the answer.

“In a week.”

She could only nod.

Rationally, it was inevitable. Most guys enlisted in their second year of college. Mi-ae had sunbaes who’d gone through it — she knew Cheol wouldn’t be any different.

But knowing didn’t make it hurt any less.

Cheol was leaving.

“I tried to tell you,” he said softly, eyes fixed on the floor. “But then I… I couldn’t. And I just—” He let out a shaky breath. “I’m sorry.”

The way he ran a hand over his buzzed hair made Mi-ae choke back a breath.

He looked handsome — Cheol had always looked handsome to her — but now he looked unfamiliar too. Older, somehow. Like time had suddenly leapt forward without her consent.

She wasn’t going to cry. Not in front of him.

She knew this boy — this silly, stubborn boy — too well to miss how bad he already felt.

He couldn’t hide the way his brows kept furrowing, or how he blinked too much, clearly trying to hold back his own tears.

If Mi-ae’s smile was a little too bright, her voice a little too cheerful to hide the trembling — Cheol didn’t say anything.

He knew her just as well.

“Aigoo,” she said with a soft laugh, wrapping her arms around his waist.

Cheol’s arms instinctively circled her shoulders, pulling her in.

She leaned into him, looking up at his face.

“Our baby Cheol is all grown up now,” she teased. “Off to the military. Off to protect the nation. A real man, huh?”

Mi-ae’s heart lifted at the soft snort he let out — his lips twitching as she dramatically emphasized man in her deepest voice.

“Oh wow,” he said, raising an eyebrow. “So all I needed was a buzzcut for you to finally acknowledge my manliness? Should’ve gone bald in high school.”

“Nah.” Mi-ae wrinkled her nose, smirking. “From this angle, your head kind of looks like an egg.”

Cheol immediately slapped a hand over his head, eyes wide in alarm. “What?! You’re lying!”

Mi-ae squinted in mock seriousness, tilting her head to one side, then the other.

She shook her head solemnly. “I’m afraid it’s true.”

“I do not!” Cheol exclaimed, thoroughly offended.

Mi-ae couldn’t hold back her laughter anymore.

“You little—” Cheol squinted at her, narrowing his eyes in mock offense. “You didn’t mean that!”

Mi-ae smirked, her eyebrows raised playfully. “And what if I did?”

She didn’t have to wait for an answer.

Cheol’s hands darted forward, finding her sides as he tickled her mercilessly.

“Ack—! I’m kidding!” she shrieked, twisting in his arms as laughter burst out of her. “I’m kidding, I’m kidding!”

“Say sorry,” he demanded, grinning down at her.

“So—sooorry!” she gasped between giggles, trying to bat his hands away.

“Say, ‘Sorry Cheol, your head doesn’t look like an egg.’”

Mi-ae collapsed against him, breathless and laughing. “I’m sorry, Cheol! Your head doesn’t look like an egg. You look handsome — really handsome.”

Cheol paused, a flicker of doubt in his eyes. “Really?”

Mi-ae looked up at him, eyes twinkling.

Silly boy. Did he really need to ask?

She nodded, the corner of her mouth lifting in a soft, fond smile.

“Really,” she said quietly, sincerely.

Cheol’s expression shifted — the teasing melted into something softer. His hand lifted to her cheek, warm and gentle. Mi-ae closed her eyes, leaning into his touch, her heart aching.

He didn’t have to say it. She already knew.

“I’m gonna miss you too,” she whispered.

It didn’t surprise her then — the feel of Cheol’s arms wrapping tightly around her, or the way her feet lifted slightly off the ground.

He had kept growing after middle school, while Mi-ae barely did.

He groaned softly against the crook of her neck. “God, I don’t know what I’m going to do without you.”

Mi-ae clung to him, her hand finding the back of his neck.

She didn’t say anything — couldn’t.

Because if she spoke, the tears she’d been holding back might finally spill.

And Cheol must have sensed that too, because he didn’t speak either.

He just held her tighter.

The following Monday felt like Mi-ae was walking through fog — everything was blurry, except for one sharp, undeniable fact:

Cheol was leaving on Saturday.

He had already taken a leave of absence from college and gone back home to spend time with his family for a couple of days before enlistment.

Meanwhile, Mi-ae stayed in Seoul.

She still had classes, after all — a normal day that now felt anything but.

"Miss Hwang Mi-ae?"

Mi-ae startled, recognizing her name.

She couldn’t believe she’d almost missed responding to the attendance call.

She raised her hand. “Here.”

Everyone around her laughed.

Mi-ae blinked, confused, glancing around at her classmates.

What was wrong with these people?

Someone cleared his throat from the front of the classroom.

Mi-ae turned to look — it was her professor, a man in his sixties wearing a gray suit that looked two sizes too big and a stern expression to match.

"Yes, thank you for confirming your presence, Miss Hwang,” he said dryly. “But that doesn’t answer the question I just asked about the main goal of public relations. Please pay attention.”

Mi-ae felt her face flush scarlet.

She gave a quick nod and sank lower into her seat.

Could this day get any worse?

It was late when Mi-ae finally finished her part-time shift at the coffee shop.

It was a small place tucked into a quiet corner near college. The owner — an elderly woman with a kind heart — had graciously allowed her to work there in exchange for free rent in the tiny room upstairs. Mi-ae had felt incredibly lucky to find it two years ago, back when she first moved to Seoul.

The fluorescent lights buzzed overhead as she wiped her hands on her apron, drained. Her feet ached, and all she wanted was to crawl into bed and sleep straight through to morning.

But just as she stepped outside into the cool night air, her phone rang in her pocket — an old Fire Boys song playing through the tiny speaker.

Cheol.

She froze, then pulled out her flip phone and pressed it to her ear.

“Hey,” she said softly.

There was a brief pause on the other end. Then—

“Hey,” came his voice. Quiet. Familiar. A little breathless, like he’d been waiting all day to call.

She leaned against the side of the building, gazing up at the dark sky. A plane blinked faintly above the rooftops. The air smelled like rain on pavement.

“Did you just get off work?” he asked.

“Yeah,” she murmured, tugging her jacket tighter around her. “I’m tired.”

“You sound tired.”

“Mmh,” she hummed in agreement, shifting her weight from foot to foot.

“Is Mrs. Kang already asleep?”

Mi-ae smiled at the thought of the old woman, who had gone to bed over two hours ago, muttering about her aching knees.

“Yeah. She was kind of sad today, you know? Kept asking me where the tall, serious, handsome boy was — the one who looks at me like I hung up the moon.”

“Yah,” Cheol groaned, clearly flustered.

Mi-ae laughed. “What? Her words, not mine. She’s not lying, though.”

“Mhm,” he muttered.

“How are your parents? And Hwani? Was Sunjeong unnie and her husband there?”

“They’re fine, I guess. Mom still thinks it’s too early for me to enlist. I had to explain to her again why it’s better for me to go now.

He had told Mi-ae the same thing too — how it made sense to serve now, before the heavier college load hit, while he could still remember everything by the time he came back in eighteen months.

“Hwani got a new boyfriend,” he added, exasperated. “She’s in middle school. Can you believe it?!”

Mi-ae bit her lip, holding back a laugh. “Should I remind you that we started dating in middle school too?”

“That’s not true. We didn’t start dating till high school,” Cheol replied matter-of-factly.

“Our first kiss was in middle school,” Mi-ae shot back, the memory vivid — she could still picture Hwani in her roller skskates.

“I told you — that doesn’t count. It was an accident.”

“It was not,” she said, grinning.

She could hear the smile in his voice too — the joy of a familiar argument that never got old.

“Our first real kiss was the night you kissed me because I wasn’t wearing a shirt. You little pervert.”

Mi-ae gasped, giggling. “What?! That is not why I kissed you!”

“Oh no?” Cheol teased. “You looked me up and down and practically launched yourself at me.”

She laughed louder now, the sound echoing slightly in the quiet street. Her cheeks hurt from smiling, and yet underneath the laughter, something tugged gently at her chest. A hollow kind of ache.

She leaned her head back against the wall, closing her eyes. “You are an idiot"

"You love me”

Mi-ae smiled, soft now. Her breath misted in the air. "Yeah"

The laughter had faded, but the warmth lingered — in her chest, in her throat, in the silence between them.

“I miss you already,” she said before she could stop herself.

There was a beat of quiet on the line.

Then, softly — “Yeah. Me too.”

God, if only she could stop time.

Chapter Text

It turned out it wasn’t her alarm that woke Mi-ae the next morning — it was a call from her mother.

With half her face still buried in the pillow and a groggy voice that didn’t quite go away even after she cleared her throat, she answered, “Yes, Eomma?”

“You’re still not up?”

Mi-ae cracked one eye open to glance at the clock on her nightstand. She still had an hour before her alarm was set to go off.

She tried not to groan.

“I still have time,” she mumbled, her voice muffled by the pillow.

“You should wake up earlier, Mi-ae. That way, you’d have time to eat breakfast.”

Mi-ae pouted. “I do eat breakfast,” she muttered defensively.

“A cup of coffee is not a proper breakfast, Hwang Mi-ae,” her mother said sharply.

Leave it to her mom to know everything — even from kilometers away.

Mi-ae rolled onto her back with a sigh.

“Cheol always prepared lunch for both of us,” she said. “And he always made too much. I got used to not eating much in the mornings because of that.”

“Well, Cheol isn’t there now — he’s here. So make sure you eat something today.”

Mi-ae rolled her eyes. “Yes, Eomma.”

“I saw him yesterday, you know. Cheol, I mean. He came to greet your father and me and say goodbye.”

Mi-ae already knew. Cheol had told her during their call the night before — how he’d stopped by her parents’ place while visiting his own. It was one of the perks of their families living so close to each other.

“Are you okay?” her mother asked. Mi-ae could hear the concern in her voice.

Mi-ae instantly felt her throat tighten, the corners of her eyes beginning to sting. She stayed quiet, unsure how to answer.

“No,” she finally muttered, pressing the heel of her palm against one eye. There was no use lying to her mother anyway. “It’s just… I’m gonna miss him a lot, you know? It’s going to be weird not seeing him every day.”

Her mother hummed softly. “You and that boy have been inseparable since middle school. It’s understandable. You’re allowed to feel sad, Mi-ae.”

“Yeah, I know… but I don’t want him to see me like this. He has more important things to worry about. I know it’s not going to be easy for him, being locked up in that place. He shouldn’t be worrying about me too.”

Cheol mustn’t know she’d gone to bed crying. He mustn’t know how afraid she really was — of the distance, of what it could do to them. She’d heard stories, from friends and acquaintances, about how couples didn’t always last in situations like this.

What would she do if that happened to them?

Her mother sighed on the other end of the line. “Do you remember that time in middle school when I grounded you and forbade you two from seeing each other?”

The question caught her off guard. Why was her mother asking that? “Yes?”

“And do you remember that boy kneeling in front of me, saying he was going to take responsibility for you?”

Mi-ae giggled, warmth blooming in her chest at the memory. “Yes, I remember. God, Cheol could be so silly.”

“If I didn’t know better, I would’ve thought he was proposing right then and there,” her mother said dryly, though there was fondness in her tone. “He practically declared he was going to take care of you — like he wasn’t just a kid himself.”

There was a pause, a soft beat of silence that hung between them.

“Do you know why I let you move to Seoul even though I was so against it at first?”

Mi-ae remembered that time well — the arguments, the tension, how hard she had fought for it. Her mother had been firmly opposed to the idea. She didn’t see the point in Mi-ae going to a big city like Seoul when there were perfectly good universities nearby. But Mi-ae hadn’t wanted that life — not the quiet one that stayed in the same place.

She wanted more. She wanted to see the world, to be somewhere bigger, fuller, brighter. Some of her friends were moving to Seoul too, and she was determined to make it work. She’d promised to get a part-time job, to apply for scholarships, to cover her own expenses if she had to.

It hadn’t helped, of course, that Cheol was going to study there as well.

“I thought you let me go because I proved how responsible and mature I was being,” Mi-ae teased.

Her mother chuckled. “Well, yes — you were working hard. But I never told you that one day, Cheol came to the house and spoke with your father and me. He promised he would take really good care of you, make sure you ate properly, that you’d be safe. He practically begged me to let you move to Seoul. The poor boy couldn’t stand seeing you so down.”

“He never told me that,” Mi-ae murmured, touched. That was just like Cheol — doing something like that without ever mentioning it.

Her mother sighed, a soft sound filled with fondness and exasperation. “And yesterday, he wanted to talk to us again — apologizing for not being able to keep that promise while he’s away. As if not being by your side was somehow his fault. He was really worried about leaving you alone in Seoul.”

Mi-ae swallowed hard, her fingers tightening around the edge of her blanket.

“Of course he’d do that,” she whispered. “That idiot…”

There was no bite in her words, just love. Kim Cheol had always been like that. He always seemed so tough and serious, but had the biggest heart Mi-ae had known.

“What I’m trying to say with all of this, Mi-ae, is that it’s inevitable for Cheol to worry about you — it’s the same way you worry about him. That’s why you two work — you look out for each other.”

Mi-ae closed her eyes, letting her mother’s words settle over her like a blanket. Still, doubt flickered in her chest.

“But what if…” Her voice faltered. “What if things change? What if we grow apart?”

Mi-ae’s heart was pounding in her chest — there, her fears finally spoken out loud.

There was a pause on the other end of the line. Then her mother said, gently,

“Things will change, Mi-ae. That’s just life. But love that’s real — the kind you two have — it adapts. It stretches across the distance. It grows with you.”

Mi-ae’s throat tightened again. She blinked up at the ceiling, tears pooling in the corners of her eyes.

“You really think so?” she asked. Her voice broke — suddenly, she felt like a five-year-old, asking her mother if the scratch on her knee would stop hurting.

“I know so,” her mother said firmly. “I’ve seen the way he looks at you, Mi-ae. That boy would move mountains if you asked him to. And you’d do the same for him.”

Mi-ae smiled weakly, her voice thick. “I don’t want to lose him, Eomma.”

“Then don’t,” her mother said simply. “Hold on. Write to him. Show up for each other in whatever ways you can. That’s how you keep love alive.”

There was a long silence as Mi-ae absorbed every word.

“…Thanks, Eomma,” she said softly.

“Of course. Now get up and eat something. Properly. Not just coffee.”

Mi-ae let out a watery laugh. “Okay, okay. I’ll eat.”

“Good girl. And Mi-ae?”

“Mm?”

“You’re stronger than you think. Don’t forget that.”

The call ended, and for a moment, Mi-ae just lay there, letting the quiet wrap around her. Then, slowly, she sat up, wiped her eyes, and swung her legs over the side of the bed.

She had classes to attend — and a real breakfast waiting.

She could do this.

She couldn’t do this.

That was all Mi-ae could think as she squeezed between all the people standing on the bus headed to campus, panting and slightly disheveled.

She’d nearly missed it — had to sprint down the street just to catch it in time.

Who would've thought making her own breakfast could be that hard? She just hoped Mrs. Kang wouldn’t notice the lingering smell of something burnt in the kitchen. By the time she finished eating (if you could call it that), there was barely enough time to throw on clothes and rush out the door.

By the time she left the building, she was already very late.

How did Cheol do this every day?

"He used to wake up early, make lunch for both of them, get ready, and still have enough time to ride his motorcycle all the way to her place, pick her up, take her to class, and then cross campus to get to his own college department

Just thinking about it made her appreciate him even more.

Mi-ae looked up at the overhead handrail and sighed — she was still too short to reach it properly.

The bus lurched forward, and she immediately lost her balance, stumbling right into a high school student.

“Sorry,” she breathed, grabbing the back of a seat for support — only to stumble again as the bus turned and she was thrown to the other side.

The girl she’d bumped into gave her a withering look, one that made Mi-ae feel instantly guilty — though not for long, because the next second she was apologizing to someone else.

She wanted to scream.

She was being squeezed from every direction, unable to move, barely able to breathe. It felt like the entire population of Seoul had decided to cram into this one bus.

If Cheol were here, he’d let her grab onto his arm while he held the handrail for both of them.

She told herself she just had to get used to it. Everything would be fine. She told herself that — with as much optimism as she could muster.

But then she noticed a couple at the back of the bus — the boy shielding the girl with his body, subtly bracing himself against the crowd to create a pocket of space for her — and Mi-ae had to fight the bitterness rising in her chest.

Chapter Text

"I can't believe my eyes — Hwang Mi-ae, what are you doing here?"

Mi-ae tried to smile as she chewed a piece of gimbap. The bland taste only reminded her how much she missed Cheol’s cooking. Cafeteria food didn’t even come close.

"I thought you’d be off having lunch with Lucifer, like always," Yonghui said, dropping her tray on the table and sliding into the seat across from her. "Did you two fight or something?"

Mi-ae shook her head and held up a finger while reaching for her glass of water. She took a sip, forcing herself to swallow the stubborn bite of rice.

Yonghui leaned in. “Well? What’s going on?”

When Mi-ae found out that one of her old friends from the academy would be attending the same university — and that they’d even share a few classes — she’d been thrilled. Hanging out with Yonghui always made things feel a little lighter.

“He went home for a few days,” Mi-ae said finally.

“In the middle of the week?” Yonghui raised an eyebrow. “Why didn’t you go with him?”

Mi-ae stared down at her tray, poking at her food with her chopsticks. “He went to say goodbye to his family.”

Yonghui froze mid-bite. “Goodbye? What do you mean goodbye?”

There was a pause

“He’s leaving,” Mi-ae said softly. “For the army.”

Yonghui let out a low whistle. “DDamn  that sucks.”

Mi-ae slumped back in her seat. “Yeah. It does.”

“When?”

“Saturday.”

Yonghui set down her chopsticks and gave her a concerned look. “You okay?”

Mi-ae let out a humorless laugh. “Not even a little.”

“Why the gloomy faces?” came a voice from beside her.

Mi-ae turned to see Kim Chae-won — one of her classmates — carefully sliding into the seat next to her, carrying a tray with a steaming bowl of kimchi-jjigae.

“Mi-ae’s boyfriend is enlisting,” Yonghui said, stabbing at her rice.

“Damn.”

Yonghui grinned. “Exactly what I said.”

Chae-won reached over and gave Mi-ae a quick pat on the back. “Well… long-distance is tough. But hey, you’ll get through it. Maybe even find someone better.”

Mi-ae blinked. “Wait — what? I didn’t break up with him!”

Chae-won’s hand froze. “Oh my God — sorry! I just thought… I mean, most of my friends break up before enlistment, so I assumed…”

Yonghui snorted, nearly choking on her water. “Have you seen those two? They’re practically married.”

Mi-ae’s face flushed, but for the first time that day, she almost smiled.

“I’ve never seen your boyfriend,” Chae-won said, frowning like she was trying to picture him.

“Tall, scar on his cheekbone, always looks like he’s about to beat someone up?” Yonghui offered.

Chae-won’s eyes lit up. “Wait — is he the guy who always waits outside by his motorcycle? Super serious, kind of mysterious?”

Yonghui laughed. “Yep, that’s Lucifer. Pretty sexy, right?”

Mi-ae rolled her eyes, but couldn’t help smiling as Yonghui shot her a playful wink.

“A few juniors tried talking to him once,” Chae-won added. “They were so disappointed when he didn’t say a single word.

Mi-ae tried not to smile too much at that. “He’s just really shy around people he doesn’t know.”

“Shy?” Yonghui raised an eyebrow. “That man looks like he was born scowling.”

Mi-ae laughed under her breath. “He just... doesn’t talk unless he has something to say.”

“Or unless he’s talking to you,” Yonghui teased, wagging her chopsticks. She turned to Chae-won. “You should’ve seen them in middle school when they were just friends. Ugh, the tension.”

She gave an exaggerated shiver. “You never knew if they were arguing or flirting.”

“Hey! We were not like that!” Mi-ae protested, her face turning red.

“You were,” Yonghui said flatly. “Cheol was like a mother hen, always nagging you. What did that witch Jeon Sora use to call you guys?”

“Koalas,” Mi-ae muttered.

“That!” Yonghui clapped her hands. “They were joined at the hip — Cheol and Mi-ae, Mi-ae and Cheol.”

Chae-won snapped her fingers, eyes going wide. “Wait — his name is Cheol and yours is Mi-ae—!”

Mi-ae groaned, already knowing where this was going.

“—like those singers with the loofah dance! Remember them?”

Yonghui laughed and began waving her arms. “Of course I remember them!”

Mi-ae buried her face in her hands, half-laughing. “Please don’t bring that up. I’m begging you.”

Yonghui was doubled over with laughter. “You two were doomed the moment your moms named you. Like destiny or fate or something.”

“Yeah,” Mi-ae sighed. What she had with Cheol did feel like something out of fate.

The conversation quieted as they turned their attention to their trays again, but the warmth lingered at the table.

“So… you must’ve known each other a long time, huh?” Chae-won asked after a moment, her voice softer now.

Mi-ae nodded. “We were ten when my family spent a few days at Cheol’s house in the countryside.”

“Aww,” Chae-won cooed. “So you’re childhood sweethearts? Was it love at first sight?”

Mi-ae snorted. “Not even close. Cheol — that idiot — spent half the time running away from me. All I wanted was to be his friend. I thought he was so cool — already tall for his age, and he never made fun of me for being small.” She smiled at the memory. “He was kind. He’d do everything I asked, even if he didn’t want to… just because he was afraid I’d get hurt.”

Yonghui pushed her tray aside and popped a piece of gum into her mouth. “Huh? I didn’t know that. So you’ve had Lucifer wrapped around your finger since you were ten?” she teased.

Mi-ae let out a breathy laugh. “It’s not like that.”

“Oh please,” Yonghui smirked. “The guy follows you around like a lost puppy with anger issues.”

Mi-ae shook her head with a smile. “Cheol is not like that.”

Yonghui rolled her eyes. “Whatever you say, girl. Still — must be nice to have someone who’ll do anything for you.”

Mi-ae raised an eyebrow. “Didn’t you have a boyfriend too? That guy from the design department?”

“Ugh, no,” Yonghui waved a hand dismissively. “I dumped him last week.”

“Why? I thought you liked him.”

Yonghui shrugged. “He’s enlisting too.”

Mi-ae blinked. “And that’s… a reason to break up?”

“I don’t do long-distance,” Yonghui said flatly. “I barely do short-distance.”

“See?” Chae-won added, sipping her soup. “Most couples don’t survive enlistment anyway. Honestly, I think it’s kinder to break up before things get messy.”

Mi-ae’s grip on her chopsticks faltered. She stared at her tray, at the half-eaten gimbap and the too-watery miso soup, but the food suddenly looked very far away.

“Wait, are you saying he might break up with her?” Yonghui asked, turning to Chae-won with raised eyebrows.

“I mean, I’m not saying he will,” Chae-won replied quickly, raising her hands. “Just… sometimes the guy wants to make it easier, you know? Less painful in the long run.”

Mi-ae felt her throat tighten.

Make it easier?

Cheol was always trying to make things easier for her. Putting her comfort above his own. Saying little things like “I don’t want to be a burden,” when he felt sick. “You shouldn’t wait up,” when he was working late.

Would he think leaving her was some kind of favor?

Yonghui must’ve noticed the look on Mi-ae’s face, because she immediately leaned forward. “Hey. No. Don’t listen to her — Cheol’s not like that.”

Mi-ae forced a small smile. “I know. It’s just… people change when things get hard.”

Chae-won looked genuinely apologetic. “Sorry, Mi-ae. That came out wrong. I didn’t mean to worry you.”

Mi-ae shook her head. “It’s okay. I was already thinking about it anyway.”

The smile didn’t quite reach her eyes.

She stood a little too fast, nearly knocking over her water. “I should get going. I’ve got to… um. Review lecture slides.”

“Mi-ae,” Yonghui started, but Mi-ae was already gathering her tray.

“I’ll text you later, okay?”

Yonghui gave her a look — part concern, part warning — and nodded.

As she stepped out of her last class of the day, Mi-ae wondered how she’d even made it through. Her body had been there — nodding, writing, breathing — but her mind had stayed behind, at that table, stuck on Chae-won’s words.

Make it easier.

Kinder to break up.

In the long run.

The sun bathed the campus in golden light, and the breeze played with her hair in a way that might’ve felt peaceful on any other day. Students poured out of buildings around her, laughing, chatting, making weekend plans. Everything felt normal — and yet Mi-ae stood still, like she didn’t belong in that world anymore.

She pulled out her phone.

She wanted to hear his voice. Just for a moment.

But… what if he’d already made up his mind?

Her thumb hovered over Cheol’s name for a second. Then, with a soft click, she snapped the flip phone shut.

No.

She couldn’t think like that. What they had — it was real. It wasn’t something that could just break because of time or distance. He loved her. And she loved him.

Just like her mother had reminded her that morning

They’d be fine. They had to be.

She glanced at the time and sighed. Her shift at the coffee shop started in less than an hour — she had to catch the bus.

Tucking the phone back into her bag, Mi-ae squared her shoulders and took a step forward.

But then, a car pulled up beside her.

The engine purred low. The passenger-side window rolled down.

And Mi-ae froze.

"I'm not that late, am I?" Said a familiar voice.

Chapter Text

“Jungwook!” Mi-ae exclaimed, surprised. “What are you doing here?”

Her friend looked genuinely happy to see her. He was still in his white uniform — probably straight from the hospital where he was doing his rotations — a clipboard sticking out from the backseat and his hair slightly messy, like he’d rushed over without stopping.

Jungwook grinned. “Just get in,” he said, leaning over to push open the passenger door.

Mi-ae hesitated, still standing outside. “Don’t get me wrong, but… I have to get to work.”

“Oh, I know,” Jungwook replied, his smile widening. “I’m driving you.”

“What—why?”

He opened his mouth to answer, but just then his phone rang — a sharp, metallic jingle that cut through the quiet. He pulled it from his coat pocket and sighed.

“Why is Cheol so jumpy these days?” he muttered. “Here — just take it.”

He flipped the phone open, tapped a key, and handed it to her.

Mi-ae brought it to her ear, but before she could even say hello, Cheol’s voice came through — loud and unmistakable.

“Jungwook! Did you pick up Mi-ae already? She should be out by now — I told you, it’s the building next to the stairs with the vending machines, not the other side—”

“Cheol-ah,” Mi-ae cut in, already smiling. “What are you doing?”

“Mi-ae? Wait—why are you answering his phone? Did he find you okay? Was he late?”

She laughed softly. “No, he was actually early.”

Jungwook’s smile grew, but he stayed quiet, drumming his fingers lightly on the steering wheel. Mi-ae gave him a glance, amusement flickering in her eyes.

“But really… was this necessary?” she asked in a lower voice. “I could’ve just taken the bus. Jungwook’s probably exhausted from the hospital.”

“I just didn’t want you waiting around,” Cheol replied. “You’ve had a long day too.”

Mi-ae started to respond, but Cheol gently interrupted.

“I know you, Hwang Mi-ae.”

And just like that, she had nothing else to say.

“Just this once, hmm?” he added. “Let Jungwook drive you. He owed me a favor — and… you don’t have to take the bus today.”

Mi-ae’s smile softened. For a moment, Chae-won’s words — all the doubt and heaviness from earlier — faded into the background.

“…Thanks,” she murmured.

“Just make sure to give Jungwook directions,” Cheol added, his tone light. “He might look dependable, but he’s hopeless with landmarks.”

Mi-ae giggled. “I’m going to tell him you said that.”

Cheol snorted.

“He’s talking about me, isn’t he?” Jungwook said dryly, raising an eyebrow as he leaned on the wheel. “You’d think that after being his roommate and best friend for years, he’d trust me a little more.” He sighed dramatically. “But no — apparently I’m still not qualified to protect his precious Hwang Mi-ae from the dangers of the world.”

Cheol’s voice cut in again. “What is he saying?”

Mi-ae giggled as she met Jungwook’s eyes.

“Nothing,” she said into the phone. “He just said you’re a very good boyfriend — the best, actually. And… I think so too.”

There was a brief pause before Cheol cleared his throat.

“…Tell him to drive safe,” he said, his voice lower now, almost bashful.

Mi-ae smiled. “He heard you.”

Jungwook chuckled, shaking his head with a rueful smile. He turned toward the window, giving her a moment of privacy to end the call.

“I’ll text you later, okay? I can’t wait to see you tomorrow.”

“Me neither,” Cheol said softly.

“Well… goodbye, Cheol–ah.” Mi-ae was about to hang up when Cheol’s voice stopped her.

“Mi-ae, wait — I…”

He sounded nervous, which instantly made her nervous too.

“Yeah?”

“When I come back to Seoul, there’s something I want to tell you… in person. Is that okay?”

“Y–yeah, of course!” Mi-ae blinked, feeling something settle — or maybe stir — in her chest. “We’ll talk tomorrow.”

“Alright. See you.

Mi-ae stared at the phone for a second before gently closing it and handing it back to Jungwook. She slid into the passenger seat and shut the door, but didn’t move.

“…Mi-ae.”

She didn’t respond.

“Mi-Mi-ae.

Jungwook reached over and tapped her shoulder lightly. She blinked, finally turning to look at him. “What?”

“The seatbelt,” he said with a small smile.

“What? Oh—right, sorry.” She let out a nervous laugh and quickly pulled the strap across her chest. “Guess I spaced out for a second.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Jungwook said as he started the car. The engine coughed before struggling to life. Mi-ae glanced around, startled, and Jungwook gave her an embarrassed smile.

“Sorry, this is my dad’s old car. I don’t usually drive it much in the city,” he said, letting out a sigh of relief when the engine finally settled. “Too much traffic.”

“No, no, I think it’s awesome you can drive. Two months ago, when I visited my family, my dad tried to teach me.”

“Yeah?” Jungwook’s whole face lit up. “How did it go?”

Mi-ae smiled sheepishly. “Let’s just say… I’ve never seen my calm father so freaked out. I almost ran into a parked car.”

Jungwook looked concerned. “You were both okay, right?”

Mi-ae laughed softly. “Yeah, we were. He pulled the handbrake in time. But I don’t think he wants to get in a car with me again. So now Mr. Kim — Cheol’s dad — said he’d teach me instead. Apparently, Sunjeong unnie was far worse behind the wheel, so teaching me should be easy by comparison.”

Jungwook laughed. “Well, I wish you good luck with that.”

“You have to. I’m determined to get my license before Honggyu does.”

“Let me guess — you two made a bet?” Jungwook said with a knowing smile.

Mi-ae blinked, surprised. “How’d you know?”

Jungwook shook his head, laughing. “Some things never change.”

 "“It’d be nice if he moved to Seoul too. Maybe he could live with you while Cheol’s away.”

“Oh, he can’t do that.”

“Why not? I don’t think Cheol would mind if Honggyu stayed with you. You guys still have a spare bedroom in your apartment.”

Mi-ae knew that because she had stayed there a few times — first in the guest room, until eventually giving up the pretense and just sleeping in Cheol’s room instead.

“You didn’t know?” Jungwook said, glancing at her. “I guess Cheol forgot to mention it — Honggyu’s enlisting at the same time as Cheol. I’m going three months later. Still working on all the college paperwork first.”

“Oh.” Mi-ae’s voice came out small, like the air had been knocked out of her. “You too?”

Jungwook nodded. “Yeah.” He glanced at her again, concern creeping into his expression. “Are you okay?”

Mi-ae forced a smile.

How could she tell him the truth?

That she was scared.

That everyone was leaving.

That whatever Cheol wanted to tell her in person tomorrow might be something terrible — like breaking up.

“Yeah. It just feels like everyone’s asking me that today,” she said quietly.

Jungwook hummed in understanding. “They’re probably just worried about you. I am too. About both of you, actually.”

Mi-ae gave him a sad smile, lowering her gaze to her hands. “You’re worried we might break up too?”

She was surprised when Jungwook snorted, like the idea was ridiculous.

“Of course not. I’m just worried about how you’ll handle being apart. Cheol’s already losing it — if you haven’t noticed. He called me yesterday morning, then again last night, and then this morning… and now again. You heard him. He had to make sure you didn’t run into trouble on your way to work. I can’t even imagine how he’ll be once he’s at the military base,” Jungwook said with a half-laugh. “He’ll probably find a way to sneak out just to check if you had lunch.”

“He definitely would,” Mi-ae mumbled, picturing Cheol.

“I really don’t think Cheol can function without you nearby,” Jungwook said, glancing at the side mirror. “He needs you.”

“No,” Mi-ae whispered. “It’s the other way around. I don’t know what I’m going to do without him by my side. Cheol will be fine — he’s strong, he’s focused. Once he’s there… he might realize he doesn’t need me at all. He might forget about me”

The thought genuinely scared her.

What if Cheol, once he was away — without her — realized she was too much?

Too much work.

Too much chaos.

Too many worries packed into one person who never meant to be difficult… but somehow always was.

What if he realized life was easier without her?

Quieter.

Simpler.

Better.

She had never thought about it before.

She was just so used to him.

So used to the way he showed up without being asked.

So used to that quiet, steady warmth — always reliable, always calm.

What was she supposed to do without him?

Without the steady weight of his hand on her shoulder when the world started to tilt.

Without the calm in his voice when hers began to crack.

Without those arms — the ones that silenced everything when they wrapped around her.

The ones that made everything better.

Absolutely eveverything.

Did Cheol even know how much she needed him?

“Mi-ae, you’re kidding, right?” Jungwook said as they stopped at a red light, glancing at her with wide eyes. “Cheol? Forget about you? Please tell me you don’t actually believe that.”

Mi-ae didn’t respond.

And in that silence… she said everything.

Jungwook let out a quiet sigh, his voice softening as the light turned green.

“Mi-ae,” he said gently, “Cheol needs you just as much as you need him. Maybe even more.”

He kept his eyes on the road, but his words were careful, sincere.

“He’s different when he’s with you. You know that, right? I mean… yeah, he’s not the same guy he was back in middle school — all sharp edges and that ‘don’t come near me’ look. But still, Cheol doesn’t let people in easily. He keeps his guard up. He gets overwhelmed in crowds. He overthinks everything.”

Jungwook paused for a moment, then glanced at her.

“But when he’s with you… it’s like he can breathe. He smiles — not that polite half-smile he gives everyone else, but a real one. He laughs, Mi-ae. And I don’t mean the usual chuckle — I mean really laughs, like he forgets to hold back.”

Mi-ae stared down at her hands, her chest tight.

“You’re the only person he doesn’t have to filter himself around,” Jungwook continued. “You’re the place he comes back to. The one person who makes all that noise in his head quiet down. For someone like Cheol… that’s not nothing. That’s everything.”

He hesitated.

“And to be honest… I think he’s more scared of you breaking up with him than the other way around. Asking someone to wait is hard — even for Cheol.”

Mi-ae swallowed. Her voice was barely a whisper.

“And you don’t think he might want to break up with me… to protect me? So I won’t have to suffer through the wait?”

She bit her lip. “That’s the kind of thing he would do. He’s stupidly noble like that. God, I’m such a contradiction — I don’t want him to worry about me while he’s there, but I also don’t want him to forget about me. I’m scared he’ll break up with me to spare me the pain… or worse, if he realizes he’s better off without me.”

Jungwook shook his head gently.

“I don’t think he’ll ever believe life’s better without you. You’re not a burden, Mi-ae. You’re the reason he keeps going.”

After that, silence settled between them, broken only by the occasional honk of car horns and the steady hum of the city around them.

“Sorry,” Mi-ae said after a moment. “And… thanks. I needed that. These past few days have been awful — it’s like I can’t stop imagining the worst. You know?”

“I’m sure Cheol’s not doing much better,” Jungwook said gently. “He’s probably freaking out right now too — just hiding it the way he always does.”

Mi-ae sighed. “Yeah, he does that.”

“Cheol is stubborn, Mi-ae. You both are. But him especially… once he’s decided something, he holds on tight. And from what I’ve seen, he’s already decided. He wants you in his life. Not just now, but for the long haul.”

Mi-ae looked out the window, eyes softening.

“And you,” Jungwook continued, “you’ve always been the braver one. Even when you were scared, you still showed up, still tried, still fought for the people you loved. If anyone can get through this… it’s you two.”

She didn’t answer right away, just let those words settle into her chest, calming the quiet storm that had been building all day.

“I’m going to miss him so much,” she whispered.

“I know,” Jungwook said, voice low. “I will too"

There was another pause, this one filled with quiet understanding. Then, finally, Jungwook added, “You’ll be okay, Mi-ae. Both of you will"

Mi-ae turned her head to look at him.

“Thanks for picking me up,” she said softly.

Jungwook smiled, eyes warm. “Anytime. Though next time, I expect snacks. Hospital shifts are brutal.”

That earned him a small laugh, and just like that, the tension cracked — not gone completely, but lighter.

She reached over and gently squeezed his arm. “I’ll bring you kimbap next time. Not from the school cafeteria though" Miae wrinkled her nose ”that thing was awful"

“Deal.”

Mi-ae glanced around, not recognizing anything about this part of the city.

“Um... Jungwook, sorry to ask, but where exactly are we?”

“Close to your work? We were supposed to turn on this street, then take a right where there’s a park, right?”

“Um... no? There’s no park anywhere near my workplace.”

“Oops,” he said with a sheepish smile.

Mi-ae laughed.

“No worries. There’s a map in the glove compartment — always handy in situations like this, you know? Though I still don’t understand why Cheol left that there.”

She smiled softly.

Cheol was right — Jungwook was hopeless with landmarks, but he was a good friend.