Chapter Text
The air inside the Seoul National University library hummed with the low drone of air conditioning, pages turning, and the occasional cough. It was mid-afternoon, sunlight pouring through the high windows, casting long, golden shadows on the polished floors.
Junseong sat sprawled over a worn couch in the humanities wing, a sketchpad on his lap but only a few distracted pencil strokes on the page. His friends, Daenyeol and Yunghee, sat nearby. Daenyeol with earbuds in, bobbing his head to music as he flipped through a philosophy textbook, and Yunghee hunched over his laptop, fingers flying.
“I swear,” Junseong muttered, tapping his pencil against the pad, “I’ve drawn this same line seven times.”
Yunghee looked up briefly. “Then maybe it’s time to stop drawing it.”
Junseong rolled his eyes and leaned back, letting his head fall onto the back of the couch. He gazed at the ceiling, lost in half-formed thoughts. He had no real reason to be in the library today, no deadline breathing down his neck. He just liked the quiet sometimes, or maybe he just liked being seen reading in public, one of the perks of being in the fine arts major with his kind of face, people tended to project mysterious depth onto him without him doing much, but something shifted in the room. He couldn’t tell what. A strange silence, or maybe a subtle change in the light.
Junseong’s eyes slowly drifted away from the ceiling and toward the far end of the library, by the tall windows. There, sitting alone at a table with a thick stack of books, was someone he had never seen before.
A boy—no, a man, but small-framed. Pale skin almost glowing under the sunbeam that hit him just right. Short black hair slightly tousled, head bent low as he read, delicate fingers turning the page, his eyes, large and dark, rimmed with long lashes. His neck was decorated with 2 beautiful tattoos making himeven more pretty. But what caught Junseong most were his plump and soft-looking lips.
He blinked. Sat up. His pencil dropped from his hand.
“Who’s that?” Junseong nodded subtly toward the boy.
Yunghee followed his gaze. “Who?”
“By the window.”
“Oh.” Yunghee squinted. “Never seen him before.”
“He’s… from our department?”
“No way,” Daenyeol chimed in suddenly, pulling out one earbud. “I’d have remembered a face like that.”
Junseong frowned. That didn’t make sense. He prided himself on knowing most of the good-looking people on campus, especially anyone remotely artistic or interesting but this one, he was new.
The boy suddenly looked up from his book, almost as if sensing eyes on him. Junseong immediately turned his head away and picked up his pencil again, acting busy.
His heart beat a little faster.
It was stupid. Junseong had seen beautiful people before. Hell, he’d dated some of them, but something about this one, it wasn’t the typical “hot” or “sexy.” It was… pretty. Almost delicate.
He tried to shake it off.
“You think he’s a freshman?” he asked.
“Could be,” said Daenyeol. “Or transfer. Maybe liberal arts.”
That made sense. Junseong didn’t hang around the liberal studies building much. “What’s his name?”
“Dunno.”
Junseong kept stealing glances. But before he could work up the nerve to get up and pretend to browse the shelves nearby, the boy closed his book, stood, and left the library without a word.
He was shorter than Junseong had guessed, maybe less than 170 cm? His backpack hung slightly off one shoulder as he slipped out the doors, disappearing into the blinding afternoon light.
⸻
That night, Junseong lay on his bed, staring at the ceiling again but this time in his dorm room, sketchbook on his chest, the pages still mostly empty.
Why am I thinking about him?
It wasn’t like he was into guys. He wasn’t. He’d never even kissed one. Not once. Not in high school. Not during some random party blackout moment.
He liked girls. Curves. Softness. Perfume. Pretty voices.
So why had this guy—this soft-looking, pale-skinned boy—gotten under his skin?
Maybe it wasn’t romantic. Maybe it was like… admiration. Or curiosity. Yeah, that made more sense. He probably just looked interesting. Like someone you’d want to draw. That was normal for artists, right?
Junseong exhaled, then sat up.
Tomorrow, he decided, he’d figure out who he was.
The next day, between classes, Junseong made a detour to the liberal studies building. He tried to act casual, walking slowly through the halls, peeking into open classrooms, nodding politely if someone noticed him, but there was no sign of the boy. He even stopped by the bulletin board outside the department office, scanning club photos and group listings.
Nothing.
When he met up with Daenyeol and Yunghee later that afternoon, they mocked him mercilessly for it.
“You’re going through all this just to find a guy you saw once in the library?” Daenyeol laughed, mouth full of chips. “You sound obsessed.”
“I’m just curious.”
“Right,” Yunghee said with a smirk. “Curious.”
“Not like that. I just…” Junseong trailed off, irritated. “Never mind.”
Days passed.
Junseong kept going to the library more often than he used to. Sometimes he even brought books he didn’t need. Sometimes he just sat, sketching idly, waiting for that familiar silhouette to appear.
It didn’t. Not for a week. Then two.
Still, Junseong told himself he wasn’t really waiting. Just passing time. Libraries were peaceful. The interior was nice. Good lighting. Nothing to do with that boy.
He didn’t even know his name.
Then, one afternoon, just as he was packing up his things, a familiar figure slid into a seat by the window. As if summoned.
Junseong froze.
There he was.
Same pale skin. Same soft plump lips. Eyes fixed on the same type of thick book. Wearing a beige oversized cardigan today, sleeves pulled over his hands.
Junseong’s heart gave a strange little lurch.
He stood up. Took a deep breath.
Then sat back down.
He couldn’t just go talk to him. What would he even say? “Hey, I’ve been stalking you across campus for the past two weeks”? No way.
He whispered to Yunghee to tell him about the boy entrance.
“bro. he’s here again.”
“who”
“the guy. window seat. library.”
“lmao ask his name already”
“NO.”
“okay closeted romantic.”
Junseong nearly threw his phone across the table.
This wasn’t a crush. Crushes came with butterflies. Daydreams. Flirting. This was different. He just wanted to understand why this guy had caught his attention.
He sat there for another hour, sketching for the upcoming campus festival. Occasionally glancing up. Watching the way the boy’s lips parted as he read. How he tilted his head when he was focused. How he seemed completely unaware of the world around him.
When the boy got up to leave, Junseong did too but at a safe distance. Not enough to follow, just… enough to know which direction he went.
This time, he saw the boy walk toward the main arts quad, where some of the common student lounges were, then he stopped following him because he reminded himself to not creepily stalked the boy.
Later that evening, Junseong sat with Daenyeol and Yunghee on the rooftop of their dorm building, passing a bottle of soju back and forth.
“You ever think you’re not who you think you are?” Junseong asked suddenly.
Daenyeol burped. “That’s too deep for this hour.”
Yunghee raised an eyebrow. “Why? Something happen?”
Junseong shook his head. “Nah. Just wondering.”
He lay back on the cool concrete, eyes tracing the stars. He was still sure he was straight. But he couldn’t stop thinking about that boy’s lips.
⸻
The scent of dust and ink became oddly familiar to Junseong over the past two weeks. He was in the library so often now that even the security guard started to recognize him with a nod. Every time the doors opened and a new student walked in, Junseong’s eyes flicked up with the same hope.
Usually, it wasn’t him.
Junseong had never worked so hard to find a stranger in his life. He wasn’t even this motivated when he lost his wallet last semester. He’d scouted multiple departments by now liberal studies, humanities, sociology, even international relations, under the guise of looking for shared elective postings or public seminars. It was ridiculous.
Daenyeol kept teasing him. Yunghee didn’t tease, but his smirks said enough. Junseong had to admit: he was obsessed. Not romantically, at least that’s what he kept telling himself. It wasn’t like he had a crush. He didn’t even know the guy’s name.
Until today.
The light slanted perfectly again, mid-afternoon, golden and warm. Junseong was halfway through a sketch of a tree when he saw him sitting by the same window as before, bent over a different book this time.
Junseong’s pencil froze mid-line.
He was wearing a navy sweatshirt, sleeves bunched at the elbows, a pair of loose jeans, and thin-rimmed glasses this time. The light made his pale skin glow again, that same faint flush in his cheeks as he read something closely.
Junseong swallowed.
He couldn’t mess this up.
This time, he didn’t just stare. After taking a few seconds to calm his heart, Junseong stood and quietly made his way to the nearby shelves, pretending to browse while stealing glances at the boy. He wasn’t alone. Two girls were sitting beside him, one with dyed brown hair tied in a ponytail, the other with round glasses and a sharp expression. They were whispering and giggling between pages, and occasionally showing each other their phones.
Friends, maybe?
He kept hearing the brown-haired girl call the boy “Seongho.”
There. Finally. A name.
He wasn’t sure why that made his chest feel warm.
“Seongho,” Junseong whispered to himself as he returned to his table. “Seongho…”
It suited him. Soft. Gentle.
Later that afternoon, when Seongho and the two girls left together, Junseong followed at a distance again, not stalking (he told himself), just… gathering information. He saw them turn toward the liberal studies building again, confirming a hunch.
That evening, he circled back to the student center where liberal arts majors often hung out and casually struck up conversations with a few friendly-looking students. After some subtle prodding, he learned the full name: Shin Seongho, second-year liberal studies, often seen with two girls he still didn’t know the names yet.
Perfect.
He had the information. Now he just needed a plan.
⸻
That weekend, during the usual chill session in their shared art studio, Junseong mentioned Seongho offhandedly while he, Daenyeol, and Yunghee were helping with a student art exhibition set up for the upcoming campus festival.
“There’s this guy from liberal studies,” he said as he hung up one of his abstract canvases. “I want to invite him and his friends to check out our booth.”
Daenyeol smirked. “Ah. The guy.”
“It’s not like that,” Junseong said quickly, wiping his hands on a rag. “I just think he’d appreciate the art. That’s all.”
Yunghee raised an eyebrow but said nothing.
With help from a couple of other fine arts students, they crafted some stylish mini-flyers and QR-coded invites for the art stand. The plan was simple: go up to Seongho and friends, introduce themselves as part of the festival committee, and personally invite them.
No flirting. No ulterior motive.
Just friendly, open outreach.
That’s all.
When Monday arrived, Junseong headed to the library early. He waited. Luckily, he didn’t have to wait long. By early afternoon, Seongho entered with Seohee and Sejin, just like clockwork.
Junseong took a deep breath, clutching the small stack of flyers. He approached slowly, trying not to look as nervous as he felt.
“Hey,” he said, offering a casual smile.
All three looked up. Seongho blinked at him in quiet surprise. His eyes up close were even more stunning, deep and unreadable like a calm lake.
Seohee’s eyes widened a little. “Wait… are you Lee Junseong? From Fine Arts?”
Junseong nodded. “Oh, you know me?”
Sejin immediately smiled. “Yes, I’ve seen your work at the spring exhibition! The one with the large ink mural, right?”
Junseong grinned. “Right, that was me. Thanks for noticing.”
“So, I’m Junseong, from the fine arts department,” he added, holding up one of the flyers. “We’re doing an art stand at the campus festival this week. I want to ask if you guys might want to check it out.”
Seohee took the flyer first, inspecting it. “Oh, I think I saw this on the announcement board.”
“It’ll be pretty chill,” Junseong said, shifting his weight. “Installations, some interactive stuff. And a free sketch corner.”
Sejin tilted her head. “You’re one of the artists?”
“Yeah.” He scratched the back of his neck, glancing at Seongho, who was quiet but still watching him. “Actually, I was hoping to send out a message reminder the day before. Can I get your names and, uh, your contact? Just to send info. No spam, I promise.”
Seohee was already pulling out her phone. “Sure!”
Sejin followed without hesitation, exchanging KaTalk IDs and typing out her number with a pleased little smile. They were clearly enjoying the moment—Junseong was popular around campus, especially among students from other majors who only saw glimpses of him at exhibitions or in campus magazines.
But when Junseong turned to Seongho, the boy hesitated.
His gaze flicked from Junseong’s face to his phone, then back again.
“You don’t have to,” Junseong said gently. “No pressure. Just… thought it’d be nice to keep you in the loop.”
Seongho’s lips parted slightly. His eyes held a hint of reluctance, but also something else, curiosity, maybe. After a moment, he nodded slowly and opened his contacts.
“…Okay,” he said softly. “Just for the event.”
Junseong smiled as he added him. Shin Seongho. The name looked right sitting there in his phone. “Thanks,” he said, pocketing his phone. “I’ll message you all the details. Hope you can come.”
“We’ll try,” Sejin replied politely.
Seongho said nothing more, just gave him a small, polite nod, lips slightly pursed.
That was it.
It wasn’t much, but it was the start of something.
⸻
That night, Junseong lay in bed, phone clutched in his hand.
The green bubble next to Shin Seongho’s name on KaTalk glowed. He was online.
Junseong stared at the blank chat screen, thumb hovering over the keyboard.
He typed:
hey :) this is junseong from earlier
Then deleted it.
Then typed again:
hope you and your friends can come to the art stand
Deleted.
He dropped the phone onto his chest with a frustrated groan. “Why was this so hard?” It’s not like he liked him. He was just… shy. Or maybe worried he’d come off weird.
After twenty minutes of mental struggle, he finally sent one message:
Hey this is Junseong from Fine Arts. hope to see you at the festival!
No emoji. Neutral. Safe. He turned off his phone immediately after sending it.