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Dohoon never thought he’d be affiliated with someone like Choi Youngjae. If someone had gone back to the start of freshman year and told him he’d someday be hip to hip with Youngjae, he would’ve laughed in their face and told them to fuck off—maybe even flicked his half-smoked cigarette at their shoes for saying something so stupid.
Because there was no way someone like Dohoon could ever become friends with goody-two-shoes, class president Choi Youngjae—the guy who was always sticking his nose into other people’s business. He walked around school with an invisible red cape, like some kind of superhero who cared about everyone. But Dohoon knew—or at least he thought he knew—that behind the scenes, Choi Youngjae was just like everyone else—someone who only acted like a good boy to get people to do things for him.
It annoyed Dohoon endlessly that he never caught Youngjae slipping, not even once. He’d watch him lend notes to classmates and smile shyly when they thanked him, then walk away without expecting anything back. Sometimes Dohoon would pass by the school garden and see Youngjae eating lunch with kids who had no friends, and it made his stomach twist for reasons he couldn’t explain. Maybe it bothered him because he couldn’t come up with a single bad reason for why Youngjae would hang out with those nobodies. What could he possibly gain from that?
After school, when no one was around, Youngjae sometimes took the long way home. Dohoon only knew this because it was also his route. There, in one of the dirtiest corners of town, Youngjae would crouch to feed a group of stray cats. Every time Dohoon saw him being gentle with the animals, it made something ugly and hot stir in his chest. He hated it. Because it meant admitting that maybe—just maybe—Youngjae really was a genuinely nice guy.
Even though he always kept an eye on him, Dohoon hadn’t spoken a single word to Youngjae during the first few months of freshman year. Despite being in the same class, their worlds never overlapped. Youngjae stayed close to the nerds and other student council members, exactly where a class president should be. Meanwhile, Dohoon spent his time with upperclassmen—the kind of sunbaes who were always getting into fights, their grades hanging by a thread, one failed test away from being held back.
People like that were often referred to as delinquents, but Dohoon didn’t really consider himself one. For one, his grades were excellent despite skipping class more often than not, and he had a good sports record whenever he did try.
The only thing he had in common with his sunbaes was that they all liked sneaking cigarettes to smoke in the restroom between classes whenever lessons got too boring. It wasn’t really a secret—everyone knew they did it, including the teachers—but nobody had the guts to say or do anything about it. Things could get ugly when dealing with troublemakers, and it wasn’t like a few scoldings would magically turn them into angels anyway.
It was on one of those days that Dohoon decided to ditch class alone and smoke in the restroom when Choi Youngjae walked in—looking pale, unsteady, and on the verge of passing out.
Dohoon had a cigarette loosely hanging from his lips, fingers resting lazily near the filter as he exhaled a slow stream of smoke into the air. He stared at Youngjae in silence. Youngjae’s eyes widened in surprise when he saw him, his gaze flicking to the cigarette between Dohoon’s fingers before hardening when it met Dohoon’s again.
Despite looking frail that day, Youngjae marched straight up to him—eyes clear, voice firm as he demanded,
“Put it out. You’re underage, and smoking is bad for your health.”
Dohoon didn’t know what came over him. After months of secretly watching Youngjae, waiting for proof that he wasn’t as perfect as everyone thought, Youngjae had walked right up to him—a person he’d normally never even look at.
Maybe that was why Dohoon smirked. He took one last drag, plucked the cigarette from his mouth, and blew the smoke directly into Youngjae's face before saying, “make me.”
Youngjae didn’t even flinch. He grabbed a nearby cleaning bucket, filled it halfway with water, and dumped the whole thing over Dohoon’s head.
The shock hit him hard enough that all he could do was stand there, dripping from head to toe, the cigarette still hanging loosely from his lips, smoke curling upward and fading into the damp air.
When the last drops fell from the bucket, Youngjae’s knees suddenly buckled. Whatever had made him pale and weak caught up to him, and he fainted. Dohoon barely had time to react—he spat out the cigarette and caught Youngjae before his body could fall. They both slid to the wet floor together, with Youngjae’s head cradled carefully in Dohoon’s arm.
Youngjae hadn’t left him alone after that. He kept following Dohoon around like some kind of puppy, greeting him in the hallways when they passed each other in the morning, offering to eat lunch with him, and even taking the same route home after school.
He was both a distraction and a nuisance. With his constant presence and hawk-like eyes, it became harder to sneak into the restroom for a smoke during class hours. On the rare occasion Dohoon managed to slip out through the back door, Youngjae would appear right behind him.
It was both infuriating and interesting at the same time. Dohoon knew he had nothing to offer Youngjae, so he couldn’t understand why the boy was so kind to him. Even on the days when Dohoon ignored his greetings and refused to speak, Youngjae was still there by lunchtime. He’d talk for both of them if Dohoon refused to speak.
A month into Youngjae following him around, Dohoon had enough. The day before school was dismissed for winter vacation, Youngjae had been trailing behind him, footsteps careful in the snow, when Dohoon turned and asked, “What do you want with me?”
Youngjae’s eyes widened like a startled guinea pig before he smiled, warmth spreading across his face, eyes bright as if they held the stars themselves. It was the first time Dohoon realized another human could be so beautiful.
“The doctor told me if you hadn’t been there that day, the fall could have been bad enough to paralyze me for life.”
Dohoon’s heart thudded erratically at the unexpected answer, his pulse loud in his ears. Out of habit, he shoved his hands into his pockets, fingers searching for the small rectangular box he always carried around. It wasn’t there. Neither was the lighter. The absence felt strange—almost exposing.
Youngjae stepped closer, his shoes crunching softly in the snow until he stopped in front of Dohoon. Then, with a smile no one had ever given him before, he beamed.
“Thank you for catching me that day, Dohoon-ah!”
He giggled, the sound cutting straight through Dohoon’s chest and flooding his face with heat until it turned beet red.
“Also I’m sorry for dumping water on you that day!”
That winter afternoon, just a week before the break, Dohoon realized he hadn’t touched a single cigarette since the day Youngjae caught him in the restroom.
Dohoon should have expected that Youngjae was the type to abuse his power as class president. He should’ve known, considering Youngjae was always the one delivering homework to students who were absent.
One day before Christmas Eve, Youngjae suddenly showed up in front of his house unannounced, though it wasn’t like he could have announced it even if he wanted to. They still hadn’t exchanged numbers; Youngjae never pressed, and Dohoon never asked.
“You didn’t show up to the class gathering,” Youngjae said, his eyes carrying a hint of sadness as he stood outside in the cold, bundled up in a ridiculously large puffy jacket and a white scarf wrapped snugly around his neck.
Dohoon had his hand on the door, ready to slam it shut. “I’m not interested.”
It was as if Youngjae had predicted it. He slipped a leg between the door, grinning mischievously.
“Dohoon-ah! Let’s go see the stars together! The whole class went yesterday and it was so beautiful. Everyone saw it except you!”
“No,” Dohoon replied flatly, shooting him down again. “I said I’m not—”
Before he could finish, Youngjae grabbed his arm and yanked him forward, pulling him out of the house with surprising strength.
“Yah!” Dohoon shouted, but Youngjae wasn’t listening. He groaned under his breath, quickly slid on his shoes, and let himself be dragged along.
They walked only a short distance before starting up the hill. The air grew colder, and Dohoon began to shiver—his thin hoodie no match for the winter chill. Youngjae noticed immediately. He stopped, unwound his scarf, and wrapped it gently around Dohoon’s neck.
“Sorry,” he said sheepishly. “I should’ve let you get dressed first.”
Dohoon scoffed, though a faint smile tugged at his lips. “You just realized that now?”
Youngjae’s face flushed pink, his hand reaching behind his neck as he let out a shy chuckle.
As they climbed higher, the city lights faded until only darkness surrounded them. When they reached the top, the world seemed still. Then—
“Dohoon-ah,” Youngjae said softly, slipping his hand into Dohoon’s before pointing upward with the other. “Look up.”
Dohoon tilted his head toward the sky, the cold air stinging his lungs as he stared. Hundreds—no, millions of stars stretched across the sky, glimmering like scattered diamonds.
“What do you think?” Youngjae asked softly, his eyes catching the starlight, bright and tender against the chill of winter.
“Pretty,” Dohoon said quietly. But he wasn’t talking about the stars. “So pretty.”
Dohoon and Youngjae officially became friends once the snow had melted and the warmth of spring welcomed them into another school year. If people were curious how two polar opposites became so close over winter vacation, Dohoon’s intimidating expression made sure no one dared to ask.
The second year of high school felt different from the first. All the troublemaking sunbaes Dohoon used to hang out with had graduated. He didn’t sneak off to the restroom to smoke anymore, and for the first time in his life, he found himself dying of boredom, forced to sit through entire class lectures.
It was only bearable because Youngjae sat next to him by the window. Whenever Dohoon couldn’t take it anymore, he’d rest his chin on his hand and shamelessly stare at Youngjae until he turned red and whined for him to stop so they could focus. Dohoon never did.
On Valentine’s Day, Dohoon ate every piece of chocolate Youngjae received from his admirers. He didn’t even like chocolate, but the thought of Youngjae enjoying other people’s gifts irritated him. Youngjae didn’t seem to mind either, though he laughed when Dohoon nearly gagged on a piece of bitter dark chocolate.
“Dohoon-ah,” Youngjae giggled, lifting his head from his textbook. “You don’t have to eat everything.”
Dohoon ignored him, gathered all the wrappers, and walked to the trash can. As he passed the kitchen table, his eyes flicked toward the small, heart-shaped box of chocolates he’d bought from a convenience store that morning. He’d meant to give it to Youngjae, but now seeing the piles of fancy, homemade chocolates Youngjae had already received, it looked embarrassingly plain.
He sighed, picked up the box, and headed back to the trash can. But before he could throw it away, a hand stopped him.
“Dohoon-ah,” Youngjae called softly, turning him around. Dohoon froze when their eyes met. Youngjae’s gaze dropped to the box, curiosity flickering in his expression before he looked back up.
“I don’t recall receiving a box like that.”
“Because it’s mine,” Dohoon blurted before his nerves could stop him. He tried to sound casual, but his eyes betrayed him. “I wanted to give it to you.”
Youngjae blinked, then smiled, warm, bright, and sincere.
“Come,” he said, easily taking Dohoon’s hand like it was the most natural thing in the world. He led them back to the living room, motioned for Dohoon to sit, then dug through his backpack. A grin spread across his face as he pulled out a nearly identical heart-shaped box.
“We had the same idea,” Youngjae said, laughing, his eyes forming crescents. “I got this for you too!” He hesitated, looking away briefly before meeting Dohoon’s gaze again. “I just…didn’t know when to give it to you.”
Dohoon dumbly stared at it in complete shock, before the burning in his cheeks snapped him back to motion.
“Me neither,” he mumbled. “I didn’t know when to give mine either.”
Youngjae laughed, and the tension between them melted away just like that. They exchanged boxes, opened them, and ate together.
“Thank you, Dohoon-ah,” Youngjae said between bites. “I’m really happy we’re here like this. I never thought you and I could become friends.”
“Yeah,” Dohoon replied, unable to take his eyes off Youngjae’s mouth—at the small smear of chocolate on the corner of his red, plump lips. “Me neither.”
As Dohoon popped a chocolate into his mouth, a thought lingered, soft and dangerous.
What would it be like to be Youngjae’s boyfriend?
If Youngjae ever fell for someone else, would he still go watch the stars together with Dohoon every winter?
During October, Youngjae became busy after being put in charge of organizing a rock festival for their town in collaboration with the school. It was meant to be a fundraiser, and since Youngjae was both a member of the student council and class president for the second year in a row, most of the work fell on his shoulders.
The festival was three weeks away, and Dohoon didn’t see Youngjae for the first two and a half weeks because of how busy he was. When he did catch a rare sight of Youngjae during lunch time, he had been with a freshman who had the personality of a bright extrovert as he followed Youngjae around with a stupidly big grin that made it so obvious he was into Youngjae.
And Youngjae, being as oblivious as ever, welcomed the freshman warmly, and they practically had their arms around each other as they yapped on and on about things Dohoon didn’t understand while hauling equipment around.
The night before the festival, Youngjae appeared in front of Dohoon’s house, nervous and fidgeting with a pair of silver scissors in his hands. His hair had grown since Dohoon last saw him—not by much, but enough for the fringe to fall into his eyes.
Then, shyly, he asked a question he didn’t know would make Dohoon spiral.
“Dohoon-ah, a hoobae asked me out on a date tomorrow. Can you help me trim my hair?”
Dohoon blankly stared at Youngjae’s face, down at the small pair of scissors in his hand, then back up at him.
“Sure,” he said simply, stepping aside to let him in.
He had Youngjae sit on the floor, then settled down across from him. Slowly, he leaned forward, lifting the scissors to the first strand of hair.
Youngjae was intensely staring at him, like he wanted to say something but couldn’t.
Maybe it was just like back then during Valentine’s Day, when they both had bought chocolates for each other but didn’t say it because they didn’t know when was a good time.
It felt like that day all over again, with Youngjae looking like he had something to spill, but was waiting for some kind of sign.
With the first quiet snip, a few strands fell to the floor, revealing more of Youngjae’s eyes—bright, steady, and filled with something that made Dohoon’s chest ache. His gaze was heavy, layered with emotions Dohoon couldn’t name, because no one had ever looked at him like that before.
When Dohoon stared back into his eyes, he was suddenly brought back to the winter day when Youngjae had dragged them both up that hill to show him the stars. He had fallen in love with Youngjae’s eyes then, the stars twinkling a thousand times brighter within his gaze.
Maybe he didn’t need to go see the stars again this year if Youngjae wasn’t going to be with him.
Shining stars don’t mean a thing without him.
Dohoon ended up going to the festival too after the sunbaes he had hung out with in freshman year called him to come out, telling him they were all going to be there.
He figured this would be the perfect time to clear his head now that Youngjae wasn’t constantly bothering him and hovering over his shoulder.
Right before entering the festival, he made a pit stop at a convenience store right outside and bought a pack of cigarettes and a lighter, charming his way into not getting his ID checked. He slipped both items into his pocket before going inside, hands buried deep as he fiddled with the cigarette box.
He felt guilty about it for some reason even though Youngjae wasn’t around. It wasn’t like he’d made any promise to quit. He’d stopped all on his own, so it only made sense that he could start again by his own will.
It didn’t take long to find the sunbaes. They already stood out among the crowd of teenagers, but the smell of cigarette smoke gave them away even faster.
They greeted him casually by blowing smoke in his face and asked questions parents usually did when their kid came home for the holidays— How are you doing? How are your grades? Got a girlfriend yet?
Dohoon answered vaguely, his attention wandering around the festival. There were food stalls, a game corner for kids, and on the far side, a huge stage with small rides behind it. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t scanning the crowd with a purpose—searching for a particular brunette who carried stars in his eyes.
Then he spotted him near the gaming center, laughing as he and a younger boy threw darts at balloons, missing every single shot. Youngjae’s eyes crinkled as he threw his head back in laughter while the younger boy stomped in frustration. When Youngjae reached out to pat the boy’s head, Dohoon’s face burned red.
He needed to do something—anything to numb himself.
At that moment, Youngjae turned his head and caught Dohoon’s gaze. Their eyes met just as Dohoon pulled the cigarette box and lighter from his pocket. Youngjae froze, staring at him, his gaze dropping to the items in Dohoon’s hands. That was when Dohoon turned away completely.
“Sunbaes, let’s go smoke over there,” Dohoon said, nodding toward an empty corner drowned out by loud music. They agreed, following him over.
Dohoon took out a cigarette, popped it between his lips, and flicked the lighter. But before he could bring the flame to the tip, a firm hand gripped his wrist.
“Dohoon-ah.”
He didn’t have to look to recognize the voice. His friends stopped and turned, eyeing Youngjae up and down, their gazes sharp and hostile.
“Who’s this little bitch?” the leader sneered, stepping toward Youngjae. But Youngjae didn’t back down. He glared straight at him, unwavering.
“What the fuck are you looking at? Want me to hit you so you learn some manners?” the sunbae spat, shoving Youngjae hard in the shoulder.
The cigarette fell from Dohoon’s lips, landing on the ground. In the next second, the leader was flat on his back, Dohoon on top of him with a hand clamped tightly around his throat—his eyes wild, dangerous.
“Hands off, sunbae,” Dohoon growled, face red with rage. He lifted the guy by the neck before slamming him back down, fingers tightening enough to cut off his breath. “Do that shit again and I’ll kill you so fast you won’t even know you’re dead.”
Just before the guy blacked out, Dohoon let go and stood up. The rest of the group scrambled away in fear.
“You should go too,” Dohoon muttered, bending down to pick up the cigarette box and lighter before shoving them into his pocket.
“Dohoon, wait—” Youngjae shouted, grabbing his arm. “There’s something I have to tell you.”
Dohoon shot him an unimpressed look. “That you’re in a relationship now? Congrats.”
“No!” Youngjae yelped, face flushed. Before he could explain, thunder rumbled overhead, followed by heavy rain.
“Shit,” Dohoon cursed, glancing up before turning to Youngjae, who was already getting drenched in his thin gray shirt. He immediately shrugged off his jacket and wrapped it around Youngjae’s shoulders, eyes filled with worry. “Youngjae-yah,” he said, voice tight with concern. “Are you okay? Are you cold? Let’s get out of here—”
Then everything stopped—the thunder, the rain, even the distant music.
Youngjae grabbed Dohoon by the face and pulled him forward, crashing their lips together.
Dohoon froze, a startled sound escaping him, but when Youngjae deepened the kiss, he shut his eyes and melted into it. His hands slid to Youngjae’s waist, gripping tightly as rain poured around them.
“I’m sorry!” Youngjae blurted once he pulled back, his words tumbling fast and breathless. “It was Jihoon’s idea and I knew it was stupid! I told him but he wouldn’t listen and now it’s raining and I just kissed you without a real confession—”
“Youngjae-yah,” Dohoon cut him off, his tone firm.
Youngjae stopped, panting, mouth slightly open from talking too fast.
Dohoon’s lips curved into a faint smile. “You’re speaking too fast. I didn’t understand a single thing you just said.”
“Okay,” Youngjae said with a heavy exhale. “Okay, okay. You don’t need to hear everything. Just…listen to this, alright?”
Dohoon nodded, eyes bright with anticipation.
Youngjae looped his arms around Dohoon’s neck, his gaze steady—warm, serious, and gentle all at once.
“Dohoon-ah, I really like you. I can’t pinpoint the exact moment when it happened because it happened so naturally, but you make me so happy and I want to be together with you for a long time.” His voice softened, careful, trembling slightly. “Would you go out with me?”
Dohoon pretended to think, keeping a serious face. Just when panic began to flicker across Youngjae’s, he nodded, smiling softly.
“Okay.”
“Really?!”
“Yeah.”
“Why do you sound so sad?”
Dohoon let out a short laugh, eyes glinting. “Youngjae-yah, I just saw you with another guy a few minutes ago. Give me a second to process, yeah?”
Youngjae pouted, sulking. “I already said I was sorry…”
Dohoon chuckled and leaned in, brushing a quick kiss against his lips.
“Think the rain is gonna stop soon?” he asked, tilting his head toward the sky. “I kinda want to try that balloon game you guys were playing earlier. Watching that Jihoon guy miss every shot pissed me off.” He turned back to Youngjae, smirking. “I bet I can win you all the toys you want.”
Youngjae burst out laughing, throwing his head back. He took Dohoon’s hand, swinging it side to side. “We can still go play!” he said brightly, already dragging Dohoon toward the booths.
“Even if it rains, I’m okay! You’re my shining sun, so I’m okay!”
Dohoon’s heart fluttered at the words, a smile forming before he realized it. He slipped a hand into his pocket, gathered the cigarette box and lighter, and tossed them into the nearest trash can. Then, he tightened his grip on Youngjae’s hand, their fingers intertwining.
The rain poured relentlessly the rest of the night, washing out the stars from the sky, but Dohoon didn’t need starlight anymore.
Not when Youngjae was shining so brilliantly by his side.