Chapter Text
The central courtyard of the college was in that strange interval between the end of morning classes and the beginning of afternoon ones, when no one seemed in enough of a hurry to run, but it also wasn’t calm enough to be considered peaceful. The fountain in the middle poured water with almost decorative insistence, as if trying to convince anyone there that the space had some artistic ambition, and the concrete benches around it were occupied by groups scattered in irregular circles. Chan occupied one of those benches as if he were on an improvised stage, leaning forward, hands in constant motion, completely absorbed in his own indignation.
He was explaining with offensive seriousness how the composition professor had managed to turn a discussion about musical dynamics into something that sounded like a lecture on applied physics, and he did so as if the honor of music itself were at stake. Seungmin, sitting beside him, maintained the relaxed posture of someone who had already accepted that this conversation was not optional, but his eyes were fixed on his phone with a concentration that made it clear something more interesting was happening there.
Chan noticed on the third automatic “uh-huh” that he was talking to himself and interrupted his own complaint in the middle of a sentence about mistreated harmonic progressions.
– You could at least pretend you care – he said, turning his face with an expression that mixed legitimate offense and calculated dramatization.
Seungmin did not lift his eyes immediately. – I do care – he replied with irritating calm. – I’m just trying to keep up with something more urgent.
Chan arched an eyebrow. – More urgent than the artistic integrity of my composition?
– Considerably more urgent.
The tone was so serious that Chan leaned a little to peek at the screen, but Seungmin tilted the phone in the opposite direction, protecting the information with strategic care.
– What’s so important? – Chan insisted, already suspicious.
– Hyunjin is freaking out.
That was enough to capture his attention. Chan leaned back on the bench, crossing his arms. – Hyunjin freaks out over questionable reasons frequently, I need better details.
Seungmin finally looked up, and there was a subtle gleam of satisfaction at being in control of the information. – There’s a new freshman in the fashion program.
Chan blinked, processing the sentence with a calm that did not match his growing interest. – And?
– And apparently he’s interesting.
– Interesting how? – Chan asked, trying to sound skeptical and failing slightly.
– According to Hyunjin himself, he walked into the room and everyone noticed, but no one said anything. And Hyunjin, who normally talks even to lamp posts, got shy about starting a conversation.
Chan let out a disbelieving laugh. – Shy? Hyunjin? That doesn’t make sense. He talks even to flyer distributors.
– Exactly – Seungmin agreed, looking back at the screen. – But this time he froze.
Chan tilted his head, still resistant to the idea that this was relevant. – It’s just a normal person. There’s no reason for all this drama.
Seungmin exhaled through his nose, almost a contained laugh. – That’s what you think.
– That’s what any rational person thinks – Chan shot back, with enough confidence to sound convincing even to himself.
Seungmin didn’t argue. Instead, he discreetly lifted his chin and looked past Chan’s shoulder, toward the side of the courtyard near the entrance partially hidden by trees.
– There – he said, simply.
Chan took a second to react, more out of pride than lack of curiosity. – There where?
– Near the other fountain. He’s coming in now.
There was something in Seungmin’s voice that wasn’t exaggerated or theatrical, just factual, and that was what made Chan turn without making a sarcastic comment first. He shifted his body on the bench with practiced casualness, ready to prove that it was nothing more than just another student, and then he saw him.
The redhead was walking along the edge of the courtyard with firm steps, unhurried, like someone still learning the invisible map of the place. His hair had a shade that wasn’t flashy, but impossible to ignore, a copper tone that seemed to ignite under the afternoon light. There was nothing flamboyant in the way he dressed, yet everything looked too deliberate to be casual. The pieces spoke to each other with silent coherence, as if he had thought it through without wanting anyone to notice that he had.
Chan realized he had stopped talking before even registering that he was silent.
Seungmin watched from the corner of his eye, waiting for the reaction he knew would come.
The redhead approached the fountain and slightly slowed his pace, looking around with controlled attention. He didn’t seem lost, but he also didn’t seem completely comfortable. It was the kind of posture of someone who knows they are being observed, even without looking directly at anyone. When someone passed too close and murmured an apology, he responded with a smile that wasn’t exaggerated or shy, just polite enough to seem genuine.
Chan swallowed almost imperceptibly and felt a sudden irritation at himself for reacting that way. He tried to analyze the rational reason for it, as if evaluating a complicated musical arrangement, but found no convincing justification beyond the obvious fact that the boy was… impressive.
– That’s the freshman? – he asked, keeping his tone casual with visible effort.
– Apparently – Seungmin replied, neutral.
Chan kept looking longer than he intended. He noticed the way the wind lifted a few strands of the red hair and how he brushed them away from his face with a distracted, almost automatic gesture. There was something in his expression that didn’t match the simplistic label of “interesting.” It was more specific than that. His eyes had a sharp attention, almost too curious, as if he were mentally cataloging the environment.
– He doesn’t look scary – Chan commented, trying to reduce his own reaction to something reasonable.
– I never said he was scary – Seungmin replied. – I said he has presence.
Chan exhaled through his nose, but didn’t look away. – Presence is a dramatic word.
– You’ve been looking at him long enough to justify it.
That was enough for Chan to finally turn his face forward again, pretending renewed interest in the fountain. – I’m just observing like any normal person would.
– Of course – Seungmin agreed with the same neutrality he would use to confirm that the sky was blue.
The redhead started walking again, crossing through the light filtering between the trees. His hair seemed lighter for a moment, and Chan felt that strange tightening in his stomach that he was unwilling to name. He tried to convince himself he was just reacting to novelty, to the contrast of color in the middle of the neutral campus scenery, but the explanation felt too fragile.
– Hyunjin said he seems nice – Seungmin continued, as if narrating a social experiment. – But that he couldn’t talk to him.
Chan made a sound of disbelief. – That’s ridiculous. You just go up and say anything.
– Then go – Seungmin suggested, simply.
Chan turned his head immediately. – Me? Why?
– Because you just gave a lecture about how he’s “just a normal person.”
The word echoed with uncomfortable weight in Chan’s mind. He looked again, unable to stop himself. The redhead was now near the entrance of the main building, adjusting the strap of his bag on his shoulder. There was restraint in the way he moved, as if holding something constantly under control, and that made everything even more intriguing.
– I have absolutely no reason to talk to him – Chan replied, trying to keep logic intact. – I’m not even in the fashion program.
– Since when do you need an academic reason to start a conversation? – Seungmin questioned, raising an eyebrow slightly.
Chan opened his mouth to argue and closed it again, because any answer would sound like an excuse, and he was self-aware enough to realize that. The problem was that while he argued, he kept tracking the redhead’s movement until he disappeared through the side door.
When he went out of sight, Chan realized he was leaning forward again, as if he could pull him back just by insisting with his gaze.
– He’ll keep existing tomorrow – Seungmin commented, almost gently.
Chan took a deep breath and rested his hands on his knees, staring at the fountain water with exaggerated intensity. – I’m not interested, I was just curious.
– Sure.
– You’re trying to create a narrative that doesn’t exist.
– I didn’t need to create anything – Seungmin replied, finally putting his phone in his pocket. – You did that on your own.
Chan stayed silent for a few seconds, not because he had no words, but because anything he said would confirm more than deny. He knew how to recognize when something had shifted internally, even if he couldn’t explain what. It wasn’t instant infatuation, it wasn’t romantic delirium, it wasn’t anything as theatrical as that. It was just the uncomfortable sensation that someone had crossed his field of vision and left a deeper mark than they should have.
– He’s still just a normal person – he insisted, but this time the sentence sounded more like an attempt at self-convincing than a statement.
Seungmin stood up calmly from the bench, adjusting his backpack on his shoulder. – Great, then there won’t be any problem pretending you’re not going to look for him with your eyes every time you pass by here.
Chan didn’t answer immediately, because they both knew he would. And the worst part wasn’t the fact that he would look, but the fact that, for the first time that semester, he was genuinely curious to find out what would happen if he stopped just observing and decided to approach.
Seungmin stayed silent for a few seconds after the last provocation, watching Chan like someone analyzing a predictable phenomenon. Then he adjusted his backpack on his shoulder and asked, with a naturalness too rehearsed to be innocent, if he was coming along, because he was getting a ride with Hyunjin and the two of them were already planning to stop by a store before going home.
Chan took a moment to respond, not because he was seriously considering the proposal, but because he was still looking at the side door where the redhead had disappeared minutes earlier, as if repeating the gesture could produce a different result.
– I’m not – he finally said, shaking his head. – I have some things to organize later.
Seungmin tilted his head slightly, evaluating the excuse with the precision of someone who had known his friend long enough to identify a weak lie. – Organize what?
– Things – Chan replied, with the firmness of someone who did not intend to elaborate.
Seungmin let out a short nasal laugh. – Sure, good luck organizing “things,” then. Don’t stay here roasting in the sun for nothing.
Chan made a vague gesture with his hand, dismissing the comment. Seungmin didn’t insist. He gave one last calculated look at the courtyard, as if wanting to memorize the scene to use against Chan later, and walked toward the main exit, where he would probably find Hyunjin already complaining about something trivial.
When he was alone, the sound of the fountain seemed a little louder, or maybe just more noticeable. Chan exhaled slowly and leaned back on the bench, letting his body sink into the sun-warmed concrete. He wasn’t expecting anything specific. He didn’t have a plan. If he were honest with himself, he would admit he was just giving chance some time, as if staying there statistically increased the likelihood of seeing the redhead again.
He closed his eyes for a few seconds and lifted his face toward the sun, feeling the heat pass through his skin and warm his forehead. The sound of water, scattered footsteps, background voices, everything blended into a uniform layer of comfortable noise. It was neutral enough for him to pretend he wasn’t thinking about absolutely anything, which obviously meant he was thinking about exactly the same thing.
That was when an unfamiliar voice cut through the ambient noise and called him cautiously.
– Excuse me…
Chan frowned slightly before even opening his eyes, trying to identify whether that was really directed at him. The voice was clear, young, with a controlled softness that didn’t sound insecure, just polite. He lowered his face slowly and opened his eyes with the same calculated slowness, prepared to see any random person asking for basic information.
But it wasn’t just anyone.
It was him.
The redhead was standing a few steps away, slightly leaning forward as if not wanting to seem invasive. The smile on his face wasn’t exaggerated, but it was open enough to disarm any automatic reaction. He scratched the back of his neck with the tips of his fingers, a small gesture that broke the confident posture he had maintained when crossing the courtyard earlier.
For one absolutely embarrassing second, Chan just stared.
His brain took a moment to synchronize image and reaction. The proximity made everything more specific: the real shade of his hair, warmer than it looked from afar; the faint freckles scattered across his nose; the shape of his eyes, which really did resemble a fox’s, not because of cunning, but because of the slight tilt that gave his expression an attentive and curious air.
– Sorry – the redhead continued, keeping the smile. – I’m kind of lost here, could you give me some information?
Chan felt his throat go dry in an irritating way. He blinked, as if that would help reorganize his thoughts, and realized he was taking too long to answer a simple question.
– I… – he began, immediately hating the sound of his own hesitation. – I can, yeah.
He nodded in confirmation, perhaps a little more firmly than necessary.
The redhead relaxed his shoulders discreetly, as if worried about bothering him. – Do you know where the sports field is? They told me the college has a cheerleading team, and I wanted to try out, but I still don’t really understand the map here.
Chan took half a second to process the information. Cheerleading. He quickly looked at the redhead’s body, not invasively, but evaluatively, trying to fit that image into the proposed idea, and concluded that it made too much sense.
– I do – he replied, more firmly now. – It’s behind the main gym. It’s not that far from here.
The redhead tilted his head slightly. – Is it very complicated to find?
Chan hesitated, but this time for a different reason. – Not exactly… but there are some kind of confusing entrances.
He could simply point the direction. That would be logical, efficient, socially appropriate behavior. Instead, he heard his own voice suggesting something he hadn’t planned.
– If you want, I can take you there.
The silence that followed wasn’t uncomfortable, but it was enough for Chan to realize he had just voluntarily committed to a situation that, five minutes earlier, he had pretended to have no interest in experiencing.
The redhead’s smile widened a little, revealing aligned teeth and an expression that mixed relief and genuine gratitude.
– Really? – he asked. – If it’s not a bother, I’d love that.
– It’s not a bother – Chan answered too quickly, then moderated his tone. – I’m free right now.
He stood up from the bench with a movement that was meant to be natural, but ended up slightly rushed. In the process, the bag that had been resting beside him slipped, and since the zipper was partially open, one of the notebooks slid out and hit the ground with a dry sound.
Chan closed his eyes for half a second, resigned to the universe’s perfect timing.
The redhead immediately lowered his gaze and crouched before Chan could react. When he picked up the notebook, his fingers paused for a moment over the cover.
There was a large, detailed drawing of a Vaporeon, done with evident care. The lines were clean, the colors vibrant, and the Pokémon’s expression had been captured with almost obsessive precision.
The redhead raised his eyebrows, pleasantly surprised.
– Vaporeon? – he asked, holding the notebook delicately before handing it back. – Are you a Pokémon fan?
Chan felt his face heat up in a way that had nothing to do with the sun. He grabbed the notebook quickly, as if he could hide evidence of a crime.
– I like it a lot – he admitted, trying not to sound defensive. – Since I was a kid.
The redhead smiled in a way that seemed even more sincere than before. – I really like it too. And Vaporeon is one of my favorites among the water types.
Chan blinked, surprised. – Really?
– Really – he confirmed, contained but clearly excited. – I’ve always liked the water types, but Vaporeon has a really good design. It’s simple, but striking.
Chan relaxed his shoulders slightly without noticing. – It’s underrated – he commented, almost automatically. – Everyone talks more about Greninja or Blastoise, but Vaporeon has a different elegance.
The redhead looked genuinely interested. – Exactly, it seems calm, but it’s strong.
There was a brief moment of silent understanding there, an unexpected connection based on something so specific and at the same time so simple that Chan had to restrain himself from smiling stupidly.
– I’m Jeongin, by the way – the redhead said, extending his hand naturally.
The name fit perfectly into the image Chan had been building since he saw him cross the courtyard.
– Chan – he replied, shaking his hand. The skin was warm, the grip firm without being excessive.
– Thanks for saving me from getting lost on the first day – Jeongin commented, letting go of his hand.
– I haven’t taken you there yet – Chan replied, finding a bit of his own humor again.
Jeongin laughed softly, a light sound that made Chan’s chest tighten in an irritatingly pleasant way. – Then let’s go before I give up on the tryout because of my lack of direction.
Chan adjusted his bag, making sure to close the zipper this time, and started walking beside him. The proximity was now real, concrete, and he could notice details that had previously been diluted by distance: the light, almost imperceptible perfume; the way Jeongin kept his pace aligned with his effortlessly; the way he looked around with genuine curiosity.
As they crossed the courtyard toward the gym, Chan realized that any previous attempt to convince himself that it was just curiosity had completely lost strength. It was no longer about observing someone from afar. It was about walking beside him, hearing his voice up close, discovering they shared a specific liking for a water-type Pokémon that almost no one chose as a favorite.
And the most unsettling part wasn’t the fact that he was interested. It was the naturalness with which it was happening, as if chance had decided to completely ignore the resistance he had tried to maintain minutes earlier on the fountain bench.
An (Almost) Impossible Crush
Hyunjin is in love with the blond guy who's studying Veterinary Medicine at his college, but he's never had the courage to approach him. The reason is a supposed boyfriend who's always by Felix's side, walking around campus as if that spot were already taken. Convinced he has no chance, Hyunjin prefers to admire him from afar and cling to his own assumptions, until he begins to realize that maybe he's misunderstood everything.
https://archiveofourown.org/works/79712726/chapters/209174151