Chapter Text
The university library was always full on rainy afternoons. Students crowded into every corner, hunched over books, laptops, and half-finished papers, the air thick with the smell of damp uniforms and brewed coffee from the kiosk outside. The steady patter of rain on the wide glass windows seemed to hush even the loudest voices.
Lee Heeseung sat at a table by the aviation section, an open textbook in front of him, though his eyes hadn’t moved across the page for minutes now. He was supposed to be memorizing air navigation formulas, but the monotony of numbers blurred into each other. His family expected him to excel, of course he would. He was a Lee, from a line of old-money businessmen and politicians. His tuition was nothing more than a signature on a check, his books ordered weeks in advance. He didn’t need to worry about scholarships or allowances. All he had to do was show up, study, and become the pilot everyone already assumed he would be.
And yet, he found himself distracted.
Across the room, a boy sat with three other students. His hair fell softly around his face, his posture relaxed despite the piles of notes scattered on the table. He was explaining something, probably about psychology, Heeseung guessed from the thick DSM manual lying open between them. His voice carried across the rows of shelves, calm and patient.
“You can’t just memorize the terms,” the boy was saying, tapping his pen against the paper. “You need to understand the patterns, how the behavior connects. Think of it like… like how symptoms form a story.”
The students around him nodded, scribbling furiously.
Heeseung tilted his head. The boy didn’t look older than him, maybe even younger, but he carried himself with a quiet authority. His clothes were plain, a worn uniform polo with the sleeves fraying slightly and a cheap ballpen twirled between his fingers. But his eyes…. there was something about them. Bright, kind, but heavy, too. Like someone who carried more than he let on.
Heeseung hadn’t seen him before, and yet, he couldn’t look away.
The session ended soon after. The other students packed up, thanking the boy, who only smiled and waved them off before returning to his own notes. Alone now, he looked smaller, more fragile somehow. He pulled out his phone, checked something quickly, then sighed and rubbed his temples before opening another book.
Heeseung realized he’d been staring. He shook his head, forcing himself back to the formulas in front of him. Still, when he flipped the page, his eyes drifted back to the boy.
The library grew fuller as the rain continued. A group of students entered, searching for seats, and in the shuffle, someone slid into the chair across from Heeseung.
“Excuse me,” a soft voice said. “Do you mind if I sit here? It's getting noisy sa table doon”
Heeseung looked up.
It was him.
For a moment, Heeseung forgot how to speak. Up close, the boy looked even more striking. His skin was pale under the fluorescent lights, his features sharp yet delicate. His name tag read: Kim Sunoo, 4-A Psychology.
Heeseung nodded quickly, too quickly. “Yeah. Sure. Go ahead.”
Sunoo smiled politely before settling in, spreading his notes carefully across the table. His handwriting was neat, small, like every stroke was measured. He pulled out a plastic container from his bag, rice and a single fried egg, and ate quickly, almost mechanically, before diving back into his readings.
Heeseung watched, fascinated. Most students he knew would rather starve than eat cold baon in the library, but Sunoo didn’t seem to care. There was a quiet determination about him, as if he didn’t have the luxury of appearances.
Finally, Heeseung forced himself to speak. “You tutor?”
Sunoo glanced up, surprised. His eyes were even brighter up close, though a little wary. “Yeah. Just a little…”
Heeseung hesitated. “You’re good at it. The way you explained earlier… it made sense, even to someone who doesn’t take psychology.”
A faint blush touched Sunoo’s cheeks, though he quickly hid it behind a small smile. “Thanks. I guess…”
“I’m Heeseung,” he said.
“I know.” Sunoo chuckled quietly. “Everyone in Aviation knows you. The boy from the old Lee family, right? You’re kind of… campus-famous.”
Heeseung grimaced. “That’s not exactly what I prefer to be called.”
Sunoo tilted his head, amused. “It’s not exactly a bad thing, either.”
For the first time in a while, Heeseung let out a small snicker.
The rain outside softened into a drizzle, the library humming with the sound of turning pages. Across from him, Sunoo bent over his notes again, and Heeseung tried to focus on his formulas. But he already knew it was useless.
Because in that moment, one thought rooted itself in his mind, stubborn and unshakable.
He wanted to know more about Kim Sunoo.
×××
TBC.