Chapter Text
"Suho, I graduated today... I—" Sieun says softly, gently patting Suho’s hand when the door to Suho’s room creaks open.
"Sieun-ah, why aren’t you out with your friends?" Halmoni asks as she steps inside.
"I wanted to tell Suho something," Sieun replies and gets up to bow.
"My sweet boy... do you have any plans for what you want to do now?" she asks, her voice warm and gentle.
"I want to go to medical school. I applied and I’m waiting for the results, but..." Sieun trails off, speaking more shyly than Halmoni is used to.
"Our Suho would be so incredibly proud of you, Sieun-ah..." she says, brushing a hand through his hair before pulling him into a hug. At first, Sieun’s arms hang limply at his sides, but then he gathers his courage and hugs her back. Our, she said.
Halmoni and Sieun now sit by Suho’s bedside. Halmoni is telling him the same things she always does and, just like every time, Sieun listens patiently. But today, she asks more questions than usually, especially about his college applications.
"Sieun-ah, will you be able to stay in Seoul?" Halmoni asks gently.
"I hope so. My school has a bad reputation, that's why I also applied to Ulsan..." Sieun replies quietly.
"If you get a chance there, you should go. If things don’t work out in Seoul, don’t wait around, Sieun-ah. He.. he wouldn’t want you to hold yourself back," Halmoni says, reaching out to take Sieun’s hand. "Don’t worry—"
"Sieunnie, are you here?" a voice says as the door opens. Baku steps inside, then quickly bows. "Oh..."
Baku bows once more, this time even deeper. “Please pardon the intrusion. My name is Park Humin… I’m a friend of Sieun’s from school,” he says gently, his voice respectful and reserved, as if afraid of overstepping. “Lately… I suppose I’ve come to feel a bit like an older brother to him and he said he wanted to introduce me to someone.”
Halmoni studies him for a quiet moment, her expression soft and thoughtful. Then she smiles.
“I’m glad someone’s looking out for Sieun-ah. He won’t admit it, but he needs that. You must call me Halmoni too, alright? This is my grandson, Suho.”
Baku straightens, blinking in surprise. “O-of course, Halmoni. Thank you,” he says, a hint of warmth breaking through his formality.
Sieun, still seated beside Suho’s bed, shifts slightly, eyes down. “…I don’t need looking after,” he mutters.
Halmoni chuckles and pats his hand. “You always say that.”
She turns back to Baku, her smile now touched with nostalgia. “You know… I still remember the first time my grandson came home beaming with pride because he’d finally gotten someone called 'Sieun' to eat barbecue with him. He talked about it like it was the biggest achievement of his week.” She lets out a warm laugh. “Back then, I thought Sieun was a girl. But... well, he is very pretty, isn’t he?”
At that, Sieun stiffens even more, sinking a little lower in his seat, eyes wide with horror. “H-Halmoni—please—” he stammers, mortified.
But Halmoni just laughs and Baku joins her, unable to hide his grin as he glances at Sieun.
“She’s not wrong, Sieunnie,” Baku says teasingly and a flush creeps onto Sieun's cheeks.
Before Baku can say anything else, Halmoni gestures to the nearby chair with a tilt of her head.
“You have time to sit, don’t you, Humin-ah?”
“Oh, yes, of course,” Baku replies quickly, lowering himself onto the edge of the chair like he’s unsure whether he’s truly allowed to be comfortable in this hospital room.
Halmoni studies him for a moment, then asks conversationally, “What do your parents do, dear?”
“I live with my father. He runs a chicken restaurant in Yeongdeungpo,” Baku says, hands politely folded in his lap. “It’s a small family business. He’s very particular about his marinades.”
At that, Halmoni’s eyes light up. “Oh! Is he one of those vinegar-salt briners or the soy-garlic kind?”
Baku grins. “He swears by gochujang-based sauces, actually. Says everything else is too bland.”
And just like that, they slip into conversation like old neighbors reunited at the market. They discuss spice levels, fermentation jars, chili oil ratios and whether it’s worth grinding your own sesame seeds. Halmoni speaks with the confident authority of a woman who has fed generations. Baku listens with quiet curiosity, occasionally chiming in with a respectful question or an anecdote about his kitchen disasters.
Meanwhile, Sieun slowly begins to tune them out. The warmth in the room, the steady rhythm of their voices, it all begins to blur as he turns back toward Suho. His fingers fidget nervously in his lap before settling on the edge of the blanket, brushing it gently. His eyes soften as he watches Suho breathe, as if the rest of the world has dimmed around them.
While still talking about the merits of fermented garlic paste, Halmoni casually reaches out and extends her hand to Baku without looking, her fingers make a subtle flick, wordlessly signalling for him to look. Baku follows her gesture and turns his head.
Sieun’s profile is illuminated by the soft light spilling into the room. His eyes are steady, almost tender, his expression open in a way Baku rarely sees. He’s fully focused on Suho, unaware that he’s being watched.
And Baku just… softens. His teasing fades. The grin he usually wears settles into something quieter, genuine.
Halmoni glances sideways at Baku, catching his softened expression and only then does she nod slightly, satisfied, before she turns to Baku again.
“Humin-ah,” she says, deliberately using his full name, “make sure our Sieun-ah enjoys his graduation, okay? And if you can help it, don’t let him come back here before noon tomorrow.”
She reaches over to Sieun and softly brushes his hair back with her fingers. “You need to live a little too, Sieun-ah. Live for my grandson.”
Baku immediately bows low, his hands pressed together in front of him. “Yes, Halmoni. I’ll make sure he has a proper celebration.”
Then he straightens up, turns to Sieun with a mock-serious glare, and says, “Yah, you punk. Listen to your elders, especially Halmoni.”
Before Sieun can protest, Baku grabs him by the wrist and starts pulling him out of his chair and out of the room.
“Wait! I don’t—!” Sieun sputters, his voice rising in quiet panic.
Halmoni chuckles warmly as she watches the despair written all over Sieun’s face while he's dragged out of the room.
Once they’re gone, she turns back to Suho, her gaze softening as she reaches for his hand.
“Baby… I know how happy you'd be to see that our Sieun-ah has at least one good friend. I was afraid that sweet child would be lonely.”
They step out into the warm afternoon air, the door to Suho’s hospital wing swinging shut behind them. For a moment, there’s only the distant hum of traffic and the muted sounds of the city.
Baku glances at his phone. “The others are waiting to eat,” he says casually.
But when he looks over at Sieun, he stops.
Sieun is walking beside him, but there’s a stillness to him, his steps light, unfocused, like he’s somewhere far away.
Baku hesitates, then speaks more gently. “Do you want to talk about it?”
Sieun shakes his head almost instantly, his gaze fixed on the ground.
Baku shifts his weight awkwardly, bouncing on the balls of his feet. Then he sighs and says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world, “I can see that you love him. You don’t have to hide it.”
Sieun freezes mid-step, eyes darting to Baku with horror. “Baku—”
“I’m serious,” Baku says, shrugging. “You don’t even look at puppies like that. Even a blind man would see, that the mysterious Ice Princess melts for Ahn Suho.”
Sieun stares at him, stunned into silence. His face turns red, ears burning.
“And it’s okay,” Baku continues, softer now. “It’s good, actually. I’m glad you have someone you love. Even if it… yeah, seriously sucks that he’s not really here right now.”
He nods back toward the hospital entrance. “But hey, his Halmoni is amazing.”
Sieun doesn’t answer. He just stands there, rigid, struggling to breathe through the knot in his chest.
Baku watches him carefully. “…You short-circuiting?” he asks. “Should I carry you?”
Sieun shoots him a glare, cheeks still flushed.
“There we go,” Baku grins. “That’s the angry kitten face. I was getting worried.”
He takes a step forward, trying to lead them down the path toward the parking lot. But after a few paces, he glances back—and stops.
Sieun is still walking, but his head is down and his face is wet. Silent tears slide down his cheeks, and he doesn’t seem to notice or care.
Baku’s stomach sinks. “Shit,” he mutters under his breath, spinning in place. He glances around quickly, then spots a bench beneath a tree a little ways down the path.
“Come on,” he says quietly, steering Sieun toward it.
They sit. Baku doesn’t say anything, just lets the silence stretch. Leaves rustle overhead. The bench is warm from the sun.
Sieun doesn’t look up. He wipes at his face roughly with the sleeve of his uniform, jaw clenched.
They sit in silence for a while. Baku keeps his eyes forward, giving Sieun space. The only sounds are the leaves rustling overhead and the distant hum of cars.
Then, quietly, barely louder than a whisper, Sieun begins to speak. He tells him about Suho. About Oh Beomseok. About Byuksan. About how it all started. How it all broke. The betrayals, the pain, the guilt that won’t let go.
His voice shakes at first, halting, fragile. But once the words start coming, they don’t stop. He speaks like someone uncorking something that’s been sealed too long, the story flowing out slow and raw.
And Baku listens. He doesn't interrupt. He doesn't push for details or ask questions. He just lets the silence stretch where it needs to, lets the weight of it settle between them.
By the time Sieun falls quiet again, his breathing has steadied. His shoulders are still tense, but the tears have stopped. He stares at the ground, hands clasped tightly in his lap.
Baku leans back slightly on the bench, eyes lifted toward the tree above them.
“So that’s what it was,” he says softly. “I always wondered why... you looked so tired all the time. Why you didn’t talk to anyone. Why you carry everything like you’re the one who caused it.” He exhales slowly through his nose. “Well, damn. That’s a lot, Sieunnie.”
Sieun doesn't respond, but he heard it.
After a pause, Baku turns to him with a small, lopsided smile. “Okay. Now that you’ve cried and trauma-dumped on me—” Sieun shoots him a tired look. “—you still need to eat something,” Baku finishes. “Otherwise Halmoni’s going to be disappointed. And I am not facing her wrath tomorrow.”
That gets a faint, reluctant smile out of Sieun. Just the corner of his mouth, barely there.
He nods once, obedient and quiet. “…Okay.”
Over an hour late, Baku finally leads Sieun into the little restaurant where Gotak and Juntae are already halfway through their meals.
“Sorry we’re super late,” Baku says with a quick bow, his tone casual. “Lost track of time.”
Gotak glances up and shrugs. “Whatever. I booked a karaoke place for about an hour from now.”
Juntae, however, narrows his eyes slightly. He doesn’t say anything, but it’s clear from the way he looks at Sieun, quieter than usual, eyes faintly red, that he senses there’s more to the story. Still, he doesn’t press.
After Sieun eats what Baku deems enough, he turns to him. “You tired, Sieunnie?”
Sieun nods once, silently. Baku leans back and grins. “Then get home safe and sleep in tomorrow! That’s an order.”
He tries to make it sound teasing, almost like a joke, but there’s a kind of warmth behind the words that doesn’t go unnoticed.
Sieun gives a small nod, bows to the others and slips out of the restaurant faster than either Gotak or Juntae can say a proper goodbye.
The moment the door swings shut behind him, Juntae turns slightly in his seat, lips parting like he’s about to ask something.
But Baku just shakes his head. “Everything’s fine,” he says quickly, waving a hand. “Seriously. He'll tell you when he's ready.”
He laughs, maybe a little too loudly, a little too fast and picks up his food like nothing happened. Juntae and Gotak watch him for a beat longer, but eventually let it go.
By the time Sieun reached the apartment, the streets were quiet, bathed in the dull yellow wash of streetlights. He slipped out of his shoes and stepped inside without bothering to turn on the lights. The faint hum of the refrigerator was the only sound greeting him.
Something rustled at his feet. A piece of paper, folded in half, lay just inside the doorway. His name was scrawled across the front in handwriting he didn’t recognize.
He bent down, picked it up, and unfolded it.
Be grateful I still want to see you everyday and won’t leave your pretty face to rot at the end of the world. Cost me a few favours and now I’ve gotta study something boring I’ll obviously excel at... What won’t I do for someone who’s exactly my type? Be grateful next time we meet, newbie.
Sieun stares at the note. He’s too tired to make sense of anything right now, especially things Keum Seongje does.
He let out a long sigh and gently folded the paper shut, too tired to bother with what it meant. He walked to his bedroom, collapsed fully clothed onto the bed, and let sleep swallow him whole.
The following days settle into a rhythm, one that feels strange to Sieun, like he’s living someone else’s life. He wakes early each morning, studies books preparing for Pre-Med.
Everyday at 10:30 sharp, Baku shows up at his door, they take the bus together and go to the hospital. They’d spend time with Suho. Halmoni was often already there when they arrived, waiting with two paper cups of tea and a third for Baku when he forgot breakfast. No one said much during those visits. Sometimes they sat for twenty minutes, sometimes for two hours. They just stayed.
Two weeks later, Sieun moved back in with his father. Where he's alone doesn't matter, but his father's apartment is much closer to Suho's hospital.
Later that same week, thanks to some gentle nudging from Halmoni and Baku being loud and impossible to avoid, Sieun starts helping out at Baku’s father’s chicken restaurant. The man’s health hasn’t been great and they need the extra hands. It's tiring. The hours are long. But the work… grounds him. Sometimes he goes back to Suho in the evening, just to make sure everything's fine.
One morning, with the sunlight spilling into Suho’s room in soft gold streaks, the three of them—Sieun, Baku and Halmoni, sat in a half-circle around his bed.
They were staring at Sieun’s phone. Or rather, Sieun was clutching the phone in both hands, rigid, staring at the screen like it might explode.
“I… I can’t,” he whispered. “I don’t think I can.”
Baku, without hesitation, reached over and snatched the phone from him. “YAH!”
But Baku didn’t respond. He just looked down at the screen. A long moment passed. Then another.
And then he started to laugh. First a quiet chuckle. Then a rising laugh that burst out of him as he jumped to his feet.
“Are you crazy?” Sieun muttered.
But Baku wasn’t listening. Grinning ear to ear, he got up, cupped Sieun’s face in both hands and kissed his cheek.
Sieun flinched back in horror, feeling like he was slapped with a fish, scrubbed at his face with the sleeve of his shirt. “What the—?!”
Too late. Baku had already kissed Halmoni’s cheek, too and was now theatrically lowering himself toward Suho’s bedside.
“Suho-ya,” he said with mock-seriousness. “Our boy Sieunnie did it. Seoul National University College of Medicine. Full ride scholarship. Can you believe it?!”
When Baku turned around, he paused. Sieun was frozen in place, mouth slightly open, pale as a ghost.
Halmoni pressed a tissue gently to the corner of her eye, her voice thick with tears. “I’m so proud of you, Sieunnie.”
“…This… this can’t be real,” Sieun whispered.
But the phone in Baku’s hand said it was.
Sieun sat there, still holding the phone, still not quite breathing right. “I just…” he started, but his voice cracked. “I mean, what if it’s… not real? What if they— I didn’t think—our school wasn’t... the letter from Mr. Kim was—” He trailed off, frowning hard, like he hated even trying to explain it out loud.
Halmoni’s eyes softened. She didn’t need to hear the full sentence. Neither did Baku.
“Do you want me to call them?” Baku offered gently. “I can pretend to be you. Just to confirm, you know? The admissions office should have a record.”
Sieun didn’t say anything, but his eyes flicked toward him, unreadable, yet not resistant.
Halmoni reached out and patted Baku’s arm. “If it would help Sieun-ah feel more certain, I think that’s a good idea, Humin-ah,” she said, quiet but firm.
Baku nodded and pulled out his phone. “Alright, give me your phone, Sieunnie.”
As Sieun mutely handed over the device, Baku stepped a few feet away to place the call. Sieun watched him in silence, body stiff, barely blinking. Halmoni kept his hand in hers, occasionally brushing her thumb across his knuckles.
The conversation on the other side started casually, but Sieun noticed when Baku’s tone shifted, when his eyes narrowed slightly, and his brows pinched, as though the answer he was getting didn’t quite line up with his assumptions.
“Yes… Yeon Sieun… Yes, born in May... 15th,” Baku said, trying to keep his voice even. Then, after a minute, “Ah… I see. Thank you very much.”
He bowed, reflexively, with the phone still pressed to his ear, before ending the call. Turning around slowly, Baku looked a bit dazed himself. “Ehm… Sieunnie… It’s all correct. The woman I spoke to double-checked everything. Your name, your ID, your birthdate. It’s real.”
Sieun still didn’t move.
Baku rubbed the back of his neck. “And—uh—she said your letter of recommendation from the ehm… I forgot, sorry, I was too excited… Well, apparently it really stood out. The committee was really impressed!”
He paused, then grinned, wide and sincere. “So. Congratulations, future SNU student Yeon Sieun.”
Sieun’s face twisted. He looked down, and for a moment, no one said a thing.
Halmoni squeezed his hand. “You heard him, didn’t you?” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. “It’s real, Sieunnie. You did it. We're so proud of you.”
That evening, Sieun walked home like a ghost drifting through the city, half in his body, half still sitting in that hospital room, fingers curled around his phone, heart pounding with a disbelief that hadn’t eased since the call.
The streets blurred past. He barely noticed the people, the lights, the fading sky.
He was just turning the corner near his apartment when someone stepped directly into his path.
Sieun blinked. Of course. The ridiculous windbreaker flapping slightly in the breeze, the smug grin already in place.
“Newbie,” Seongje said, arms crossed, eyes gleaming. “Did you like the present?”
Sieun stared at him, still caught halfway between reality and dream.
“I have to study law now,” Seongje went on, utterly unbothered. “I would’ve preferred something fun. Law is so tragically unromantic. And apparently I’m not allowed to beat people up anymore. But hey, a deal’s a deal.”
Sieun finally blinked. “What—?”
“Don’t look at me like that,” Seongje huffed. “Like some kind of lost kitten. I told you, didn’t I? I wasn’t gonna let you rot in Ulsan. I let some strings be pulled, bartered with favours I’ll probably regret in ten years.”
He paused, then rolled his eyes dramatically.
“Not like my old man gives a damn. Mom died and he dumped me with her side of the family like I was a stray. The only thing he’s useful for now is covering up my messes and raking in the benefits from the collapse of the Union.” He smiled, way too pleased with himself. “Though I guess some people in suits thinking I was responsible helped a bit. They only recently found out you played a major part in, what did they call it? Ah, bringing those criminals to justice.”
That grin turned razor-sharp.
“Anyway,” he added casually, “take me out to dinner and don't be a stranger on campus, Yeon Sieun.”
Sieun still hadn’t moved.
“Oh, and before I forget,” Seongje said, already turning like he was bored of standing still. “The Oh family’s hush money should be drying up any day now. And your beloved Coma-boy helped his grandmother with money, didn’t he?”
He shot Sieun a look over his shoulder. “With your scholarship, you don’t need the dorm. I guess you can use some of the living stipend for off-campus living, just move in with the grandma yourself and let someone draft a tenancy agreement but what do I care?”
He started walking away, waving lazily behind him. “See you soon, my pretty Sieun-ah.”
And just like that, he was gone. Sieun stood there a moment longer, still trying to decide whether this was real or if he’d finally snapped.
When Sieun returned to the restaurant, Baku looked up from wiping down the counter and immediately grinned.
“Look who’s ba—wait, what’s with the face?”
Sieun didn’t respond. He just walked past Baku, grabbed an apron off the hook like he’d done it a hundred times before, and headed straight into the kitchen.
Baku blinked. “Okay… good talk.”
A few seconds later, he heard the clatter of dishes and running water.
Much later, by the time they both sat down with a plate of leftover chicken between them, Baku tore into a drumstick with enthusiasm, while Sieun just stared at the table.
Then, without looking up, Baku muttered, “Spill it.”
Sieun paused before he raised his eyes, voice quiet. “Keum Seongje. The reason I got accepted… is Keum Seongje.”
Baku blinked. A piece of chicken fell out of his mouth. Sieun shot him a look of pure disgust.
Baku scrambled to recover. “Wait—what? How do you know?”
“I ran into him earlier. He told me.” Sieun's voice was flat, almost tired.
Baku leaned back in his chair, whistling low. “He finally did something good, that crazy fucker.”
Sieun didn’t laugh.
“Sieunnie,” Baku said, putting the drumstick down and wiping his fingers on a napkin. “I get it. You don’t want to owe him anything. But maybe… think of it as repayment. For all the shit you got dragged into with the Union. Balance, you know?”
Sieun’s face twitched, but he didn’t reply.
Baku tilted his head, genuinely thoughtful. “Should I call him too? Like I did with the admissions office?”
“No. Thanks, Abeoji,” Sieun deadpanned.
Baku froze, eyes going wide. Then a huge grin broke across his face. “You... did you just make a joke?! Holy hell, what a beautiful day!” He shoved his chair back. “Wait here, I’m getting us drinks. No arguments!”
An hour later, Sieun was curled up on two plastic chairs, head in Baku’s lap, absolutely sobbing.
Sieun’s fingers were knotted tightly in Baku’s hoodie, like if he let go, he’d dissolve completely. His shoulders shook with each sob, hot tears soaking through the fabric.
Baku, chewing lazily on a leftover bone like a dog with a toy, kept glancing down at him. And every time he caught sight of Sieun’s blotchy face, he had to laugh. “I’m not laughing at you,” he said, around the bone. “Okay, maybe a little. But mostly just, man. You’re such a mess, Sieunnie.”
Sieun didn’t answer. He just buried his face deeper into Baku’s lap.
“Yah, Sieunnie,” he gasped between wheezes. “You’re so clingy when you’re drunk! It's adorable!”
Sieun gave no reaction. If anything, he clung harder, one hand now sliding up to fist the fabric near Baku’s chest.
“No, I’m serious,” Baku choked out, wiping tears from his eyes as he laughed harder. “Like, is this your final form? I kinda hoped you were a funny, loud drunk.”
Still no response. Just more muffled sobbing.
“Oh god,” Baku said, snorting again. “Okay, okay. Listen. You gotta promise me something.”
Sieun made a noise that was maybe agreement, maybe just a broken sob.
“You’re not allowed to get drunk unless I am there. Or Gotak. Or Juntae. Or—” he paused, smile softening just a little, “—or Suho. As soon as he wakes up.”
The moment Suho’s name left his mouth, Sieun broke down all over again, wailing like someone had turned a faucet on full-blast.
Baku lost it completely. He leaned back and howled with laughter, nearly poking the bone in Sieun's face as he clutched his stomach.
“Jesus Christ, you’re a disaster!” he cackled. “A clingy, crying little wreck! I can’t breathe—”
Sieun just cried harder, hiccuping into Baku’s lap as though he hadn’t just been roasted within an inch of his life.
Baku tried to pull himself together, wiping his eyes with the hem of his shirt. “You’re lucky I like you,” he said, still laughing, “or I’d have left you in the dish pit hours ago.”
But even as he teased, Baku kept one hand gently stroking through Sieun’s hair steady, grounding, warm.
And despite the tears, the mortifying clinginess and the ache lodged somewhere deep in Sieuns chest, afraid of letting go.
The next morning, Juntae and Gotak swung by Baku’s place unannounced. What they didn't expect was the sight that greeted them in the tiny kitchen. Yeon Sieun sat slumped at the table like a ghost of himself, wearing one of Baku’s oversized T-shirts that hung off his narrow frame like a dress. His hair was a mess, his eyes bloodshot, and he looked every bit like he’d fought death and lost.
“…Ehm,” Gotak said, blinking. “Do you two… have something to tell us? I ehm... this the reason you kept to yourself the past few weeks?”
“YES! NO!” Baku all but yelled, throwing his arms in the air. “Sieunnie was drunk last night! Completely wasted! You should’ve seen him!”
Sieun, who hadn’t moved an inch, slowly turned his head and glared at him with eyes full of betrayal.
“You’re too loud,” he said hoarsely, cradling his pounding head in both hands.
Baku grinned and leaned over the table. “Sieunnie~ don’t you have something to tell them?”
Sieun just blinked at him, face scrunched up like he was trying to decide whether to throw up or cry.
“Come on,” Baku pressed. “You got a pretty important email yesterday, didn’t you?”
Sieun let out a long, theatrical sigh that sounded like it came from the depths of his soul.
“…I got accepted into SNU… medi—”
He barely finished the sentence before Gotak launched himself across the room and tackled him with a shout of congratulations, nearly knocking the chair over in the process.
“YO! That’s AMAZING! SNU MEDICINE?? That’s, like, god-tier! I’ll brag with you so much!”
Sieun groaned into Gotak’s shoulder like he wished to evaporate.
Juntae beamed. “That’s seriously incredible, man. Congratulations. I, uh—got accepted for Computer Science at Hanyang, actually.”
Gotak pulled back just long enough to throw a fist in the air. “And yours truly is gonna major in Sports Science at Dongguk!”
Sieun, head now planted face-down on the table, mumbled, “I only want peace and quiet.”
Baku cackled from the other side of the room. “You love it.”
And for a brief, golden moment, the kitchen filled with nothing but laughter, morning light, and the quiet warmth of futures starting to unfold.
Then, in true Gotak fashion, he furrowed his brows and asked, “Wait. Are you guys… like. A couple now?”
The room went quiet for exactly half a second, just long enough for all three of them to witness the pure disgust etched across Sieun’s face as he slowly looked up.
Baku wailed dramatically. “Yah! I’m not that bad!”
He started laughing again, shoulders shaking. “Relax,” he added between chuckles, wiping at his eyes. “I’ve just been helping him with something private the past few weeks. Not a couple. I mean, look at our Ice Princess here, he can’t even stand the idea.”
Sieun, still half-dead and extremely hungover, didn’t even argue. His silence was agreement enough.
Juntae held back a grin. Gotak looked like he still wasn’t sure if he believed them.
But Baku just leaned back smugly, arms crossed. “You think I could handle dating someone who’s more emotionally constipated than me? No way.”
And somehow, Sieun’s groan of protest was the most life anyone had seen from him all morning.
It started quietly, almost like he was testing the idea out loud. “Halmoni… would it be okay if I used a room in your house? Any room. I’ll pay you rent.”
She looked at him. “The dorm not good enough?”
“I stay there during the week,” Sieun said, voice steady. “But I’d rather be with you on weekends.”
He didn’t say that the imagination being with her, even in silence in a home he's never seen, made him feel safer than the walls of a sterile dorm. He didn’t say he knew how tight money had been lately, how thin her wrists looked lately. How he saw her by accident, standing there in the corner store last week comparing prices three times before buying anything. How she sometimes visited Suho at the hospital and claimed she'd already eaten, only to later sneak a plain bun from her purse.
She didn’t ask further. Just stared at him for a moment too long. Then, quietly, she nodded.
“Alright. You do your studying. I’ll put a mattress in there. You’ll pay what you can.”
That was the deal. Not a word more.
“Then we’ll clear it out this weekend. I’ll put down a mattress.”
A few days later, Sieun handed her the first envelope. Inside, 800,000 won. Neatly stacked bills. Labeled rent in his meticulous handwriting. Halmoni opened it with calloused fingers. And when she saw the amount, her lips parted slightly. Her eyes welled up, and she turned away too quickly, wiping her face with the back of her sleeve like she’d spilled something.
“This is too much,” she murmured.
“It’s fair,” Sieun said. “I want to pay. He isn't here, but I am. You give me everything I need and the cafeteria food is already prepaid.”
She’s really going to need it once I’m gone for the military.
From then on, every month, he gave her the same envelope. And in return, she filled his weekends with warmth, whenever they didn't visited Suho, with homemade banchan packed into little containers, fresh broth simmering in a pot, boiled eggs cooling on the counter. Each Sunday night, she sent him back to the dorm with a full bag and a quiet pat on the shoulder.
He never said thank you out loud. But one night, as he quietly reheated her kimchi jjigae in the tiny dorm microwave, he thought, this tastes like a home I never had.
His parents assumed he lived full-time in the dorms. And during the week, he did. It was easier that way. But when Friday came and the sun dipped behind the hills, he packed his bag and rode the bus to Halmoni’s house.
No one there asked him to smile. No one cared that he barely spoke. No one looked at him like he was strange.
Campus was... tolerable. Loud. Crowded. Full of people who tried too hard, or not at all. Professors that alternated between brilliant and brutal. Study groups that disbanded within days. A roommate who threatened to move out after a week because Sieun was 'creepily silent.'
He didn’t mind.
By the end of the first month, he’d already alienated a few people with a glare too sharp, a silence too long, a comment too blunt. Some called him intense. Others just kept their distance.
But no one raised a hand. No one followed him after class. No one tried to shove him against a locker or pour water on his books.
And that, more than anything, felt like relief.
It didn’t matter if they thought he was weird. It didn’t matter if he had no one to eat with.
He came home every Friday, to the quiet hum of the old house, Halmoni watching dramas with the volume too high, Suho’s room still dark but waiting.
The campus auditorium buzzed with noise, packed wall-to-wall with bright-eyed freshmen from every department. Sieun kept to the edge of the crowd, arms crossed, expression blank. He didn’t know why he even showed up, mandatory attendance apparently, but this was already a mistake.
His eyes scanned the crowd in disinterest… until they landed on a very familiar face.
Jeon Yeong-bin.
Wearing a bright “Business Administration” sticker like a badge of honor and laughing far too loudly for someone who used to stomp around high school like a petty tyrant.
Sieun blinked. What the hell is he doing here?
As if summoned, a girl looped her arms around Yeong-bin’s neck. She looked Sieun up and down with a curled lip.
“Oppa, who’s that?”
Yeong-bin didn’t even look. “Just some guy I know.”
The girl scoffed. “Oh, medical school? Yeon Sieun... Ah! I know his name! Heard he’s pretty but completely useless. What a waste.”
Sieun took a breath. He’d expected the whispers. But still, something ugly twisted in his gut.
And then, a familiar weight hit his shoulder. A cheek pressed, then rubbed against the side of his head.
“Princess,” came a delighted voice. “I missed you so much.”
Sieun didn’t even flinch. “Piss off.”
Seongje beamed, tightening his arm around him. “Ah, I see your temper hasn’t improved.”
Yeong-bin finally turned and stared. “...What?”
Seongje tilted his head. “You got a problem with this pretty face or something?”
The girl looked confused. “Who… who even are you?”
“Yeah,” Yeong-bin sneered. “Why don’t you try introducing yourself first, asshole?”
Seongje gave an exaggerated sigh, as if it physically pained him to speak to them. “I don’t usually waste introductions on the under-evolved, but fine. Keum Seongje,” Seongje said smoothly, almost lazily. “Remember the name. And if I hear one more word out of your mouth about my pretty Sieun, I might just steal one of his beloved pens and—well, you know what happens next, Yeong-bin. Don’t you?”
Jeon Yeong-bin’s smirk faltered instantly.
His whole posture stiffened, like someone had thrown a bucket of ice water over him. “W–Wait… Keum…?”
Seongje tilted his head, smile now razor-sharp.
“Keum Seongje, yes,” he repeated, tone mock-gentle.
Yeong-bin took a step back, hands raised slightly. “Ah, no offense meant. Really.”
The girl clinging to his arm blinked in confusion. “Oppa? What? Who is that guy?”
Yeong-bin didn’t take his eyes off Seongje. “...I’ll tell you later.”
His voice was quiet. Almost a whisper.
The girl looked back and forth between them, unsettled by the sudden shift in atmosphere, but Seongje had already turned away, slipping his phone out to take a smug selfie with Sieun before steering him toward the quieter edge of the event.
Sieun barely spoke a word, but from the corner of his eye, he caught the way Yeong-bin was still staring after them, pale-faced and very, very quiet.
“See?” Seongje whispered to Sieun, lips curving into a grin. “You really do need me around, princess.”
“Why are you here?” Sieun muttered, once they were out of earshot.
“To protect your honor, obviously,” Seongje said dramatically. “That and to sign for attendance.”
For a while, the peace held. But as the event stretched on, more and more girls began approaching, one after another, all eyes on Seongje.
At first, he smiled politely, cracked a few jokes, even flirted a little. But with each new visitor, his expression grew darker. His answers sharper. Until one girl reached out to touch his arm and he visibly tensed.
His voice came out low, dangerous, “I said I’m not—”
A hand gently touched his arm. Sieun. Just a light grip, but it pulled Seongje back from the edge. He glanced at him, took a breath, and then turned back to the girl.
“Thank you,” he said, with forced calm. “But I’m not interested.”
He gestured toward Sieun, who looked entirely done with the day. “I’m here with Yeon Sieun. That’s the name that goes with the pretty face. First-year in Medicine.”
The girl blinked, half-confused, half-stunned.
And Seongje leaned in closer to Sieun, voice low and smug. “I’m glad people think you’re scary or weird or whatever it is they say. Means I get you all to myself.”
Sieun stared at him, unblinking.
“…You’re an idiot,” he said.
But Seongje just grinned.
“An idiot with excellent taste.”
When the girl finally walked away, clearly unsettled, her expression caught somewhere between annoyed and spooked, Seongje pulled out his phone and grinned.
With a few taps, he posted the selfie he had just taken with Sieun to Instagram, adding the caption:
ksj_12345: Caught the prettiest face at SNU right here!😍
Within minutes, the notifications started flooding in.
The whispers and murmurs around campus turned into full-blown gossip:
“Wait, that’s Keum Seongje? The law department’s heartthrob?”
“And that’s Yeon Sieun from med school? The weird kid?”
“Are they… a couple?”
“What’s someone like Seongje with a dude like him?”
“Black cat Yeon Sieun and his Doberman friend. Friend or boyfriend? No one knows for sure. They don't seem very couple-ly to me.”
To everyone else, except for Yeong-bin, Keum Seongje was just the law department’s charming heartthrob, the boy everyone admired but few only ever spoke to.
Sieun sat quietly, sipping canned beverages on the edge of the crowd. He didn’t speak a word, but when he glanced sideways at Seongje, still glued to his side, arms crossed and eyes narrowing every time someone approached, he sighed softly and didn’t move away.
To Sieun’s genuine surprise, Seongje’s constant, almost territorial appearances in his daily life ended up making things… easier. Somehow.
People still didn’t know what to make of him, black cat vibes intact, but now they wanted to talk to him. They asked him questions. They invited him to join their study groups or eat lunch with them. He wasn’t exactly popular, but he wasn’t an outcast anymore either. It also meant, however, that he kept getting invited to clubs and bars. Loud places. Crowded ones. Places he had zero interest in.
But Baku had once said, “Every eleventh time someone asks you, just say yes. Doesn't matter what it is. Otherwise they’ll stop asking.”
So here he was. Invitation number eleven. A club, of course.
He sat at the edge of a booth, nursing a disgustingly lukewarm beer, already feeling a buzz even though he’d barely had half of it. The music was too loud, the lights too flashy, but the people were strangely… kind. Curious, even. They laughed easily and tried to draw him into conversation, asking questions about classes, his thoughts on med school.
And though he was stiff and monosyllabic at first, a few sips in, he started to relax. A little.
Then someone, braver than the rest, grinned and asked, “So… you and Keum Seongje. Are you, like, together?”
Sieun blinked. Then, to everyone’s surprise, he laughed. An actual, booming laugh. “He wishes,” he said, with a small smirk.
There was a beat of stunned silence before the table burst into awkward laughter.
One girl leaned forward, clearly emboldened. “Then what’s your type?”
Sieun flushed. Looked away. Frowned. Then answered, quietly, “…Pretty. Pretty smile. Tall. Strong. Well-built. Can fight but isn’t psychotic. Protective. Brave. Kind. Smells good. Doesn’t try to own me. Would die for me. But also… would let me die if I asked.”
“Jesus Christ,” someone muttered. “That’s specific.”
Another girl laughed. “Wait, that sounds like... are you describing a guy?”
Sieun just stared blankly.
“…Okay, men it is,” said one of the guys, awkwardly. “That’s… eh, okay, I guess.”
“I don’t care what you think,” Sieun replied flatly, and took another long sip of the beer he clearly didn’t enjoy.
Minutes later, the answer to how much can Yeon Sieun drink became painfully clear when he slumped sideways and fell off the bench with a dull thud, fast asleep and loudly snoring.
Panic ensued.
“Crap, crap—check his phone, check his phone!”
One of the students fished Sieun’s phone from his hoodie pocket and opened the emergency contact list.
“No Keum Seongje… huh. Interesting.”
A pause.
“…Hey. Has anyone ever heard of someone named Park Humin?”
Everyone shook their heads. Exactly thirty minutes later, the bar’s energy shifted as a young man stepped through the door: tall, broad-shouldered, with soft eyes and an easy, self-assured presence.
Girls at a nearby table hit each other’s thighs and whispered furiously as he approached.
“Oppa, can we help you?” one of them asked, voice just on the edge of flirty.
“I got a call about Sieunnie not feeling well—Yeon Sieun?” he said, already chuckling.
A few hands pointed toward the booth. Baku turned, took one look at the unconscious boy on the floor, and burst out laughing.
“Oh, Sieunnie. Why do you even drink? What will Halmoni say tomorrow? And it's not even midnight.”
He crouched down, tapped Sieun’s cheek gently, then stood and turned to the others. “Can I trust you guys to look out for him next time? As his friends? He really can’t handle much, like, at all.”
He scooped Sieun up like it was nothing and started toward the exit.
There was a moment of stunned silence.
Then, someone said slowly, “…Wait.”
“Wait what?” asked another.
“That guy. He’s tall. I'd rather say handsome than pretty but whatever. Obviously strong. Well-built. He probably smells good. And he didn’t even blink when he picked up Sieun. Didn’t Sieun say his type was—”
“—Tall. Strong. Well-built. Something about fighting. Kind…’”
“…Did he just describe his own emergency contact?”
They all turned to watch Baku carry Sieun out the door bridal style, his laugh echoing behind him.
“…Oh my god,” one of the girls whispered. “He did.”
“I don’t know what’s going on with Yeon Sieun,” someone muttered. “But I’m suddenly invested. They make a cute couple.”