Chapter Text
The number one rule at Hanlim Art School was simple: don't breathe the same air as Jaehyun if you valued your sanity. Woonhak’s personal number one rule, however, was: don't look Jaehyun in the eye for more than three seconds, otherwise your brain turns to mush and you start insulting him.
It was a Monday morning, which made everything worse.
Woonhak entered the classroom dragging his feet, his backpack slung over one shoulder and the expression of someone who wanted to be anywhere but there. He slumped into his desk by the window, wishing with all his might that he could become invisible.
Light brushed against his brown hair when he suddenly heard, "Hey, Woonhak!" He looked up to find Yul standing before him. Yul had been his friend since childhood—the class representative, a source of security for everyone, and the polar opposite of the two "blending names" boys. He had that angelic smile that made teachers melt.
"You look like a zombie," the brunette said with a chuckle. "Here, I grabbed an extra one from the vending machine." He placed a carton of chocolate milk on the desk—his favorite, to be exact. Yul always knew exactly how to hit the mark. For a second, Woonhak’s "grumpy boy" mask slipped away; his eyes lit up.
"Oh. Thanks, Yul. You’re a lifesaver, seriously—"
The words caught in his throat. A hand slammed down onto the desk with a sharp thud, slightly crushing the carton before snatching it away. Woonhak stared at the empty space where the milk had been. He knew that hand. He knew that scent of expensive detergent and arrogance.
Myeong Jaehyun.
"Yul," Jaehyun said, his voice so calm it was unsettling. He wasn't looking at Woonhak. He was staring at Yul as if the brown-haired boy wasn't even there, wearing a smile that didn't reach his eyes. "Why are you feeding the baby?"
Yul blinked, confused. "Huh? I was just giving him some milk. He looked tired, and… he’s my friend. I know what I’m doing; I don’t have to explain everything to you."
Jaehyun tilted his head slightly, looking unconvinced by the answer. "Woonhak doesn't drink chocolate milk," he lied shamelessly, squeezing the carton. "It gives him..." He paused for a few seconds, just long enough to invent something. "...hives. Do you want him to get hives, Yul? Do you want to be responsible for his dermatological death?"
"What?!" Yul turned pale. "That’s news to me. I’ve always been his friend and—"
Woonhak bolted upright. His chair fell backward with a sharp crash that drew the attention of half the class. Someone laughed quietly; someone else whispered his name. His ears began to burn, and not just from anger. Jaehyun was too close—he hadn't expected to end up less than a meter away from the older boy’s face.
"What are you talking about?!" he yelled, trying to wrestle the milk away. "I love chocolate milk! Give it back, thief!"
Jaehyun raised his arm, stretching just enough to keep it out of reach. They were roughly the same height, but Jaehyun always knew how to get the upper hand. Woonhak found himself hopping uselessly, circling him under the amused gazes of the class. It had always been like this: Jaehyun in the third year, Woonhak in the first; yet these petty squabbles had been going on since middle school. Tripping in the hallways, lockers opened for no reason, and stupid pranks that never really ended.
"See?" Jaehyun said to Yul, turning toward the other boy standing nearby and gesturing at Woonhak, while completely ignoring Woonhak himself. "He’s already delirious from hunger. The sugar is bad for him. Go on, I’ll take care of calming him down. I know him."
He said it with too much conviction. As if he were trying to truly believe it himself. Yul hesitated, looking at both of them, then nodded—clearly annoyed—and headed to his desk nearby, which was right to the center of the room, to Woonhak’s right. Jaehyun’s aura left no room for argument. He returned to his seat, leaving Woonhak alone with his rival.
As soon as they were "alone"—even though half the class was staring—Jaehyun lowered his arm. He opened the milk, inserted the straw, and took a sip while looking Woonhak straight in the eye.
"That was my milk," Woonhak hissed, clenching his fists to keep from swinging in the middle of class. "You are insufferable. I hope you choke on it."
Jaehyun swallowed slowly, licking a chocolate-stained corner of his mouth. Woonhak looked away, first toward the blackboard, then toward the window. He realized it wasn't the milk that had bothered him, but the way Jaehyun had looked at Yul. He had been standing right there, yet Jaehyun had barely looked at him once, even though he was the target of the prank as usual.
"You shouldn't accept food from strangers, kiddo," Jaehyun said, leaning against Woonhak’s desk as if he owned it. He took a step forward; Woonhak backed up and ended up sitting awkwardly on his still-crooked chair.
"Yul has been my deskmate for two years! And you’ve known him since middle school too, he’s not a stranger!"
"He has a suspicious smile," Jaehyun countered seriously. "He was looking at you too much while he gave it to you. He probably wanted to poison you."
"The only poison here is you!" Woonhak slammed his English book against Jaehyun’s forehead. "Get lost. You’re taking up my oxygen."
Jaehyun didn't move. In fact, he leaned in even closer, pushing the book aside with a quiet, inevitable strength. "If you're hungry," he murmured, pulling a chocolate protein bar from his jacket pocket—certainly more expensive than Yul’s milk—"ask me. Not him."
He dropped it on the desk and walked toward the back of the room, exiting through the secondary door. Before vanishing, he cast one last look at Woonhak. Then at Yul. Woonhak sat motionless, his heart beating so loudly he feared the whole room could hear it. He gripped the desk, straightened his chair, and finally sat properly. He stared at the bar for a few minutes, then unwrapped it with a sharp snap.
"Damn Jaehyun. Why did he have to be such a... such a—"
"Asshole," he finally said out loud, biting into the chocolate. Woonhak’s bite was more angry than appreciative. The bar was good—far too good to have come from Jaehyun. He chewed spitefully, as if punishing the chocolate for its original owner's arrogance. "Asshole," he repeated, quieter this time.
Jaehyun, still standing for a moment in the corner between the wall and the window, heard everything. He saw everything. He offered a small, satisfied smile before truly leaving. The day had started better than he expected.
"Woonhak." Professor Park’s voice dropped over the classroom like a sentence. He jumped, nearly choking. He slowly looked up. "Are we already at the first warning of the week?" she asked, one eyebrow raised. "Do you want to start this Monday with a formal note?"
"No, Professor," he replied immediately, swallowing quickly and looking down at his desk. "Sorry."
A few muffled giggles died down. The air slowly returned to normal—or at least, the distorted version of normal that existed whenever Jaehyun passed through.
Yul turned slightly, throwing him a worried look. He silently mouthed: Are you okay?
Woonhak nodded, forcing a half-smile. He didn't feel like explaining; he wouldn't even know how to explain why it wasn't just annoyance. It was that irritating, oily feeling that had crawled into his stomach when Jaehyun looked at Yul. As if something of his—something he didn't even know he possessed—had been touched without permission.
The lesson began. Notes, words, formulas: everything slipped away without leaving a trace. Woonhak stared at the board but only saw a hand crushing a milk carton. A mouth drinking in his place. A look that wasn't for him—and that, for some reason, was driving him crazy. Jaehyun was no longer at the back of the room. Yet his presence lingered, as cloying as a perfume that was too intense, one that Woonhak knew very well and had begun to appreciate.
When the bell rang, Woonhak was the first to bolt upright. He stuffed everything into his bag with too much force, dropping a pen in the process. He leaned down to pick it up—and a hand handed it to him before he could reach it.
"Careful." Jaehyun had appeared out of nowhere, leaning against the doorframe as if he had been there the whole time. Woonhak turned pale, then flushed.
"Following me is stalking now," he snapped, snatching the pen from his fingers.
"Go ahead and report me, you’re free to do so." Jaehyun smirked, then countered: "Dramatic. I was just checking to make sure you didn't get hives."
"If I get anything," Woonhak growled, "it’ll be your fault."
Jaehyun watched him for a second too long. A slow, attentive gaze. It wasn't provocative—and perhaps that was the problem.
"Don't let just anyone touch you," he said finally, in a low voice. "Not everyone feeds you for good reasons."
Woonhak opened his mouth to retort, but Jaehyun had already turned away, swallowed by the crowded hallway. He stood there, motionless, the pen gripped in his fingers and his heart doing stupid things.
"...Nobody even asked you," he muttered. Yet, as he walked away, he realized the bar was finished, and despite the reprimand and the humiliation, he felt a little sorry it was gone.