Chapter Text
The science teacher moved back and forth at the front of the classroom, his steps measured and calm as he explained the introduction to the new topic of the lesson, something related to conservation and energy transfer. A topic that Gihun was fairly sure he should be paying more attention to.
But although Gihun was aware of watching the teacher move his lips, write certain keywords on the board, and walk across the entire front of the classroom, the young man’s attention was far from whatever it was the teacher was trying to explain to the students. What relevance did the difference between potential energy and kinetic energy really have for him?
He rested his chin on his hand, his elbow pressed firmly against the desk in front of him, his book still closed, forgotten next to his pen. His eyes followed the teacher from time to time, but then they always wandered back to the same target, to the only thing that seemed truly relevant to him.
“Mr. Seong?” Gihun stared without looking away, noticing the slight movement of brown strands of hair. “Mr. Seong?” He found it fascinating, the fingers of the left hand perfectly wrapped around a flawless pencil… “Mr. Seong!?”
Gihun blinked as he lifted his face slightly. His wrist ached where it had bent under the weight of his head. His lips moved to chase away the dryness as his eyes turned to the teacher’s face. The teacher was looking at him, lips pressed together, brow furrowed, arms crossed over his chest. Gihun let his eyes drift from the teacher to the rest of the class. His classmates were staring at him, some with smiles on their lips, others exasperated, and his friends looking slightly uncomfortable. He looked then to the front row desks, everyone was looking at him, every face turned toward him. Everyone except him.
He swallowed hard, looking back at the teacher in front of him.
“Yes?”
“I asked if an object that is at rest has energy.”
Gihun lowered his gaze to the closed book resting on his desk. He cursed under his breath before raising his eyes back to the teacher.
“Uh… no. I’d say no.”
The small laughs and murmurs of his classmates gave him the answer; he had been wrong, and judging by their reaction, very foolishly so.
Once again, his eyes drifted back to the front row of desks, to that perfectly groomed head of chestnut-brown hair. The teacher sighed and turned back to the class.
“Well, if we think that the object at rest is your reasoning capacity…”
“It does. Every object has energy.” Hwang Inho’s voice resonated through the classroom, cutting off the laughter that had begun to rise again. “Every object has energy, it’s called potential energy or rest energy, and it depends on the field it’s interacting with.”
“And what if there’s no field interacting with us, if we assume we’re in a vacuum?”
“Energy depends directly on mass.”
“And what if we have no mass?”
“Then we have no rest, and if the next question is to consider a massless object at rest, then we’d be entering an imaginary assumption in physics. And if you’re able to solve that, I invite you to go and claim your Nobel Prize. Professor.”
The teacher smiled, satisfied with the little back-and-forth of questions and answers. Inho remained seated, staring straight ahead at the class, his pencil shifting lightly between his fingers. Gihun kept following the movement, his face still burning.
“Excellent, Mr. Hwang. It’s good to know that the future of this nation is not entirely lost.” His eyes flicked briefly toward Gihun before returning to the rest of the class. “For tomorrow, I want a summary of the first two chapters on energy conservation, the differences between kinetic and potential energy, and one example of energy in motion, in gravitational rest, and in elastic rest. All of that by tomorrow. You can thank Mr. Seong for this.”
The protests from his classmates came immediately as they got up to gather their things. Only then did Gihun realize the class was finally over. He let out a sigh as he heard Deok-su thank him with biting sarcasm.
“This time you really outdid yourself.” Sangwoo handed him his book. Gihun took it with another sigh before shoving it into his backpack.
“Where were you?”
Gihun lifted his gaze at his friend, a look that clearly said, 'You already know where' . Sangwoo chuckled as he slung an arm over his shoulder.
“I can’t believe you’re still hung up on that crush.” Jungbae laughed loudly, clapping a hand onto Gihun’s shoulder. “You were practically drooling on your desk.”
“Shut up! That’s not true, you’re exaggerating.” Gihun shoved him lightly.
“Come on, Gihun, you were basically daydreaming.”
Annoyed, Gihun sighed and went to sit under the shade of a tree. His hand reached down to the grass beneath him, tugging at small green blades with a bit of pent-up frustration, something to keep him distracted.
Sangwoo sat down beside him.
“Hey… you okay?” Gihun nodded without looking at him.
He kept staring at the grass, pulling and tearing at strands, his hair falling across his forehead as his neck stayed bent slightly forward.
“It’s just that… Jungbae’s right. I’ve had a crush on Inho for a while now, and I barely even talk to him.”
Sangwoo shrugged.
“I don’t think it’s just a crush. I think you’re actually pretty in love with him.”
“Doesn’t matter. I can’t even say hi without my voice shaking.”
“To be fair, most people who talk to Inho have their voices shake when they’re near him.”
Gihun gave a small sideways smile, still not looking up.
“I’m pathetic.”
“No, you’re just in love. Though that’s pretty close to pathetic.”
The group of friends lifted their gaze toward the group passing by, their laughter ringing in their ears like a melodious sound. Gihun felt a small flip in his stomach when his eyes landed on them.
Taeyong burst out laughing, holding his stomach with one of his hands as his other arm wrapped around Inho’s shoulders, pulling him closer. Beside them, Minjoon said something they couldn’t catch from that distance. Inho only smiled, showing his teeth, a smile that didn’t quite turn into laughter, but one that Gihun knew well, one he had studied to perfection from afar, and knew it was a playful smile, the kind that appeared when something truly amused him.
Then Inho’s eyes shifted, slowly, calmly, until they landed on Gihun, just a few meters away, sitting with his back against the tree. And his smile faded slightly, just before Gihun could turn his own gaze away.
His heart pounded furiously in his chest. He inhaled deeply as his hands clutched at the grass beneath him.
It had been brief, only an instant, something fleeting, but that was always the effect Inho had on him. Dark brown eyes, deep and shining, filled with serenity, a gaze that pierced into him, burrowing into his core without meaning to.
“Oh my God, this is just getting pitiful, Gihun.” Jungbae sat down on the other side of his friend. “And I don’t mean that in a rude or mean way. You have to do something.”
“I freeze up when I try to talk to him. Last year I tried to invite him for a coffee, not even a date, just coffee here at school. I walked up and said, ‘Hi, Hoin.’ He laughed at me so hard he turned red. Red! Inho never blushes. I tried to fix it, and then I called him ‘Sangjae.’ I never tried approaching him again.” Gihun let out a sigh. “I’ll die alone. Alone, and miserable.”
“You’re exag... ” Jungbae stopped when he saw the look his friend gave him, like a kicked puppy in the rain. He sighed. “Hey, are we still on for your place today?” He changed the subject.
“Well, we have to finish the physics homework first, thanks to Gihun.” Sangwoo said.
“Fine, homework, your mom’s bulgogi, and me humiliating you guys at Smash Bros.”
Both Gihun and Sangwoo protested, throwing little blades of grass at their friend while the three of them laughed and teased one another. Gihun still felt a slight heaviness in his chest, but each smile that turned into laughter slowly loosened the knot inside him. He let out a loud laugh before standing up. Dusting off his uniform, he slung an arm around Sangwoo’s shoulder.
He was so absorbed in the banter and playful teasing with his friends, about who would raise the Smash Bros cup that evening, setting basic rules (like not being allowed to use Kirby), and betting upcoming math assignments, so he didn’t notice the heavy, steady eyes fixed on him. Nor the presence behind a tree, surrounded by his own friends, talking about his own interests, while he ignored them all with only one interest in mind.
Gihun let himself fall onto his bed, the frame creaking beneath him. He had dropped his backpack in the middle of the room along with his forgotten sweater, his loosened tie still hanging around his neck, leaving the top three buttons of his shirt undone. He stretched his arms above his head.
Sangwoo sat beside him while he busied himself with turning on the Nintendo. Jungbae sat down on the chair in front of the older friend’s desk.
“Remember, no using Kirby or... ”
“Sangwoo, I could play as Ganondorf and still wipe the floor with you.”
“What are you talking about? I always beat you.”
“Beating me once when I had a fever doesn’t count.”
Jungbae laughed at his friends’ bickering while his eyes drifted over the papers scattered across the desk in front of him. What caught his attention was a neat pile of differently colored sheets, stacked inside a small box, half wood and half glass.
Jungbae picked up the papers, examining them without fully understanding what they were. He could make out Gihun’s messy handwriting, the peculiar way he drew certain strokes, and how he sometimes stretched out certain characters. He flipped through the pages in his hand to study them.
“Uh… Gihun, what’s this?” Jungbae interrupted his friends.
Gihun, who had been playfully shoving and trading friendly punches with Sangwoo, lifted his head. His expression instantly shifted into pure horror once he realized what his friend was holding.
“Nothing!”
The oldest of the group shot up like lightning, snatching the pile of papers from Jungbae’s hands.
“It’s nothing.”
Sangwoo looked at Gihun, then glanced at his horrified face before turning his eyes to the stack of pages he had just clutched in a brief panic. Sangwoo tilted his head, then widened his eyes in surprise.
“You still have those? I can’t believe it.” He started laughing.
“Shut up, Sangwoo!”
“Hyung… I thought you had at least thrown them away.” He muttered, still laughing.
“Wait, what are they supposed to be?” Jungbae asked, looking at Sangwoo without hiding his curiosity.
“Oh, the thing is…” Sangwoo tried to explain, even as fits of laughter shook his body. “Gihun’s been writing letters to Inho for years... letters he’s never sent, and never will.”
Gihun lunged toward Jungbae, trying to grab the letters before his friend pulled his hand back, keeping them out of reach.
“Jungbae, give me those.” Gihun got up to reach for his friend, who pressed himself against the desk and held the letters high. “They’re really embarrassing.”
“Oh, and that’s exactly why I don’t plan on giving them back.”
Gihun let out a pitiful groan as he stretched farther, while Jungbae put his free hand on Gihun’s face, trying to push him away to keep him from snatching the letters. With his other hand, he turned the page until he could make out a few words.
“Your smile is like watching a sunset in Jeju, radiant, warm, and fascinating in equal measure.” Jungbae laughed. “Gihun, you’ve never even been in Jeju.”
Sangwoo laughed too as he grabbed another letter. He climbed onto Gihun’s bed. Gihun let go of Jungbae and launched himself at his best friend, who was a little taller and more muscular, and who shoved him lightly with an elbow to keep him at a distance.
“That’s exactly why, Jungbae. He’s never seen Inho smile either.” Sangwoo unfolded the sheet, clearing his throat.
“Sangwoo, give me that letter.”
“… I wish I could run my thumb across your cheek, caress your smooth golden skin as I look into your beautiful eyes. I wish I could kiss that bruise on your cheekbone, console you and protect you so no one ever hurts you again…”
At last, Gihun managed to snatch the letter from Sangwoo. His two friends burst out laughing.
“Wait…” Jungbae spoke through laughter, clutching his stomach. Gihun took the chance to grab the rest of the letters. “When did Inho ever come to school with a bruise?”
Sangwoo started thinking. Something like that would never have gone unnoticed, especially if it was Hwang Inho, who never got into fights. His eyes widened as he remembered.
“Oh my God, that was like two years ago, Gihun. You’ve been in love with Hwang Inho for two years?”
Gihun blushed as he opened the box and put the letters back inside. He looked at his friends, then sighed.
“Eighth grade. It was raining, and I had forgotten my umbrella… well, I’d actually lost it. We had been playing Biseokchigi in the yard and I misplaced it. When I came back, it was gone. I was drenched, there was no way I could walk home, and my mom couldn’t come get me. My sweater was already ruined, and the only bag I found I had used to cover my backpack. I was waiting for the rain to ease up, taking shelter under a tiny awning. It was October, I remember because it was almost my birthday... actually, it was October 27. I was freezing, sure I was going to get sick. I was trembling when… someone approached. I heard the footsteps splashing in the water. Then a gray coat wrapped around my shoulders. I kept shivering, but not as much. Before I could even turn to see who it was, Inho stood in front of me and buttoned the top button of the coat, keeping me from taking it off, not that I could have. I was hypnotized by the sight in front of me: the most beautiful person in the world. He didn’t look at me; he just kept fixing the coat around me. His hair was neatly combed, as always, his uniform still dry and tidy. He took my hand, opened my palm, and placed his umbrella in it. Then, finally, he looked me in the eyes and... I swear something punched the air right out of my lungs. I couldn’t speak, not even to say thank you. And then Inho stepped back three paces, and I saw his hair getting ruined, his sweater turning darker and darker from the raindrops. He smiled at me before turning on his feet and walking away.”
Gihun sighed, sitting back down on the bed. He picked up the Nintendo controller just to have something to hold, something to distract himself with.
“The next morning he didn’t come to school, nor the day after that. When I asked Minjoon, he said Inho had caught a horrible cold from the rain. It took him at least a week to come back. My mom was furious that I hadn’t returned his coat and umbrella, so I gave them to Minjoon, who passed them on to him.” Gihun looked back at his friends. “Since that day, I’ve been in love with him. And I’ve never been able to talk to him, not even to thank him for what he did for me that afternoon, or to apologize for the fact that he got sick because of me.”
His friends stayed silent, glancing at each other before turning their eyes back to Gihun, who had lowered his gaze to the TV screen in front of him.
“Wow…” Jungbae muttered. “That’s even more pathetic knowing the backstory.”
Gihun let out a small groan before flopping back onto the bed, raising his hands to cover his faintly blushing face.
“But… if it helps, I think… he might be interested in you.” Sangwoo was about to interrupt, ready to stop Jungbae from giving Gihun false, pointless hope. “No. Really. Do you remember last term when I got paired with him for the final chemistry project? Gihun, Inho isn’t what I’d call a kind person. I mean, I wouldn’t say he’s necessarily rude, but I wouldn’t call him selfless or considerate either. And okay, that was three years ago. So probably he’s not interested in you anymore. But I think at some point, he was, and maybe, just maybe, you could interest him again.”
Gihun looked at his friend with those big, bright, puppy-like eyes before lowering his gaze and shaking his head slightly.
“No.” He kept shaking his head. “He’s not interested in me.” He shrugged. “He’s Hwang Inho. The Hwang Inho—smart, hardworking, incredibly athletic, with a brilliant future, guaranteed a spot at the best universities. And I’m Seong Gihun, the guy who can’t even answer a simple physics question.”
Sangwoo, who until then had stayed silent, quietly watching his friend’s unspoken pain, clicked his tongue.
“Inho helped you.” Both friends turned to look at him, Gihun lowering his hands from his face. Sangwoo sighed before trying to explain. “The teacher was about to make a pretty condescending, offensive comment toward you. Inho stopped him, he pulled the teacher’s attention, and the whole class’s attention onto himself, and everyone forgot about you.”
Gihun shook his head.
“He did it because he’s a genius, because he knew the answer…”
“Gihun, Sangwoo’s right. Inho never speaks without raising his hand or being called on. Always, always waits for permission. This time he didn’t just speak without being asked. He interrupted the teacher.”
Gihun shook his head again before straightening up to sit on the bed.
“Look, I get what you’re trying to do, and I appreciate it. But I know my place in all this. And I’m fine with it.” His friends exchanged a glance before looking back at him. They stayed quiet for a few minutes before Gihun tried to smile, a forced smile. “Come on, let’s just play. I’m ready to beat you and make you do my weekend math homework.”
Jungbae and Sangwoo exchanged one last look before picking up their controllers, leaving the subject behind.
Gihun was sitting at his desk, finishing the last notes before the teacher came in to collect homework. Fortunately, he was near at the final of the list, but if the teacher decided to collect papers in reverse order, he’d be in trouble if he didn’t hurry.
The characters he had been writing several lines earlier had already ceased to make sense. Nothing he wrote seemed coherent anymore; the letters looked more like a series of meaningless strokes. But the teacher couldn’t say he hadn’t completed the assignment.
As he was about to finish the summary, a few sheets fell onto his desk, stopping him from continuing.
He was about to protest, about to look up and shout to whoever was interrupting him, but just as he planned to lift his gaze and confront the intruder…
He noticed the papers, the sheets, with strokes so familiar to him that they formed full sentences. The papers were different colors, cut in various ways, some long, some short. Some contained text from top to bottom, while others had only a few lines.
But Gihun knew them. He knew them by heart, because he was the author of those strokes, of those characters, of those words born from a corner of his mind and heart. He had written them in the solitude of his room, in the silence of the night, when only feelings speak, when everything else ceases to make sense.
They were his letters.
The letters he had written to Inho.
Jungbae had probably taken some and thought it would be funny to bring them to school, to play a prank during class, maybe even show them to Saebyeok or Ali so they could all laugh at his nonexistent love life.
He was about to yell, to tell him he could have caused a disaster at school, ruined his life, and that he needed to be more careful. Luckily, the letters weren’t signed in any way that could link them to him, or else he would have killed his friend.
But when he lifted his gaze…
It wasn’t Jungbae he saw.
Nor Sangwoo.
In front of him was Hwang Inho.
Inho.
The Inho.
The person every word had been addressed to, but also the last person who should have known about it.
He was looking at him from just a few steps away, expression serious, a letter still in his hand. Gihun recognized it, the first letter he had ever written, a nonsense of words born from how much Inho’s mere presence made him tremble. Inho scanned the letter, his dark brown eyes reading words Gihun would never dare say aloud.
He lowered the paper to join the rest of the letters, all in slow, calm, silent movements. All under Gihun’s horrified gaze.
Gihun wanted to vomit, it was a miracle he hadn’t already expelled his breakfast onto Inho’s impeccably polished shoes.
Inho neatly arranged the letters on Gihun’s desk, stacking them with surgical precision.
“Something tells me these weren’t meant to reach me,” Inho’s voice finally resonated in Gihun’s ears. “I think you dropped them… on my desk.” He looked Gihun in the eyes.
“I… I…” Gihun started again, feeling that familiar knot rising in his stomach, blocking his throat.
“Does Choasan café sound good? The other day I went with my mom, they have amazing Bungeoppang. I’m sure you’d like it. Also, contrary to what you think…” Inho picked a letter from the pile to show Gihun, who was still frozen in shock. “…I don’t like espresso, or americano. Actually, I love mocha.”
Gihun stared incredulously at Inho, at Inho, standing there, speaking kindly, without calling him weird or telling him to leave, without teasing him. In fact, it seemed he was inviting him to go out for dessert together at a café that served his favorite treat. Gihun swallowed, unable to process what he was seeing. He wanted to scream, pinch himself, do something beyond just staring at Inho in front of him.
“Oh, and this is for you.”
Inho reached into his pocket and pulled out a bundle of papers of different sizes and folds. Most were small, white. Gihun understood the significance of the stack immediately.
They stood like that for a few seconds, Inho’s hand extended toward him, offering something he still couldn’t fully process, his gaze locked on Inho’s, stunned and terrified by his presence, by how close he was.
“Take them. They’re for you. Sorry if… sorry if I’m not great with words.”
Gihun stretched out his trembling hand to take the papers. Their fingers brushed slightly, sending an electric current through his entire body, from the tips of his fingers to the soles of his feet, through his spine, coiling around his stomach. He swallowed hard.
The class bell rang.
Inho smiled before heading back to his desk, turning on his heel. But before leaving, he looked back at Gihun once more.
“Oh, and by the way… nobody hit me. Well, yes. But it was my brother. He threw one of his toy cars at me.”
Gihun watched Inho until he sat back in his place, in the front row, hair perfectly combed, uniform tidy, unable to fully comprehend what had just happened, his brain struggling to process it.
He looked down at the papers Inho had handed him.
All had the same recipient and the same sender:
To: Seong Gihun
From: I hope someday, your Inho. Forever.