Chapter Text
“Chanyoung, how many cups is this today?”
The slender, long fingers were as quick as they looked. Lee Chanyoung, who had just had his Americano snatched away right before his eyes, reacted with unexpected indifference. Instead of whining or protesting, Chanyoung merely blinked slowly and repeatedly clenched and unclenched his outstretched right hand in the air. It was a casual gesture clearly meaning 'give it back'. The Americano thief, who already read his intention, possessed a certain firmness that contrasted with their pretty face.
“Answer me.”
It was a sign that the coffee wasn't going anywhere until he spoke. But Chanyoung had a bit of an unpredictable streak himself; despite looking like a pushover, he wasn't an easy target. He knew that being honest right now would be a mistake. Even if they grew up in different worlds, he wasn't that clueless. Even if cultural differences made Chanyoung’s social intuition as blunt as a pencil lead that hadn’t been sharpened for a month, past experience consistently pointed to the same outcome. Three cups... actually, if I'm going to lie, I might as well go big.
“I’ve only had two cups today.”
“Really?”
“Yes.” Sungchan managed to catch the answer Chanyoung mumbled into the air, but he didn't look convinced. Two cups? There’s no way Chanyoung has only had two cups by this time of day. He wondered if Chanyoung took him for a fool, or if the guy was just a terrible liar. When he stole a glance downward, the face remained perfectly composed. Even so, the ears peeking out from beneath the beanie had turned noticeably red, the shoes kept shifting restlessly, and the fingers were busy fidgeting.
Sungchan sighed internally. Just how much of this lie am I supposed to play along with? The Americano was still in his hand, far from its rightful owner. After a brief moment of consideration, he brought the straw to his lips, took a long, deliberate sip, then handed the rest back to Chanyoung.
“That sip is the price for lying.”
“I wasn’t lying.”
“You were. Hyung saw you at the annex cafe three times today.”
T/N: In Korean, "hyung" (형) is a term used by a younger male to address or refer to an older male who is considered close, such as an older brother, older friend, or older male relative. It can be used for both a biological older brother and a non-biological older male.
“…Actually, it was four times.”
“Four? Where was the other one?”
“The new café that just opened by the back gate.”
“When? Who did you go with?”
“During my free period, alone.”
“Why’d you go alone? You should’ve gone with hyung.”
“You were in class, hyung.”
“It would’ve been over if you’d just waited a little. Take hyung with you next time.”
“I’ll think about it.”
A brief silence followed. Why wasn’t he saying anything? Was he upset? Chanyoung wondered, eventually glancing sideways to find Jung Sungchan staring at him with an unreadable expression. Sungchan occasionally wore that look—as though, even while standing right in front of someone, he was drifting somewhere far off in the depths of the universe. Whenever Chanyoung ran into Sungchan like that, he never knew what kind of action he was supposed to take—question marks in his head flipping upside down in chaos. In the end, he found himself mumbling, his true feelings slipping out on their own.
“It wasn’t that great. They didn’t even sell cake. I’d rather go somewhere else with you, hyung. Somewhere better.”
And whenever Chanyoung was honest like that, the Jung Sungchan who had been in a completely different galaxy only a moment ago would return, in an instant, to Chanyoung’s time and space. Just like now. The sharp, cold look in his eyes vanished, replaced by a gaze that was suddenly, almost impossibly, soft.
“So, was it so bad you just had to have another one?”
“Yeah.”
“Even so, should you be drinking that much coffee in a day, or not?”
“There’s nothing that can’t be done.”
“Wow, listen to you. Then what about lying to your hyung?”
“That too.”
“Wow. That one kind of hurt just now. You’re really going to lie to your hyung? Seriously?”
What on earth is that conversation? Chanyoung’s classmate, who had been there before the pair arrived, quietly closed their laptop and scanned the room. Gag. Song Eunseok, who was busy playing Crazy Arcade on the lounge computer, mimed vomiting right on cue. "You two think you're the only ones in here?" Despite the scolding, Sungchan just laughed mischievously, joking, "Who’s that barfing?" He didn't stop there; he stubbornly squeezed into the seat next to Chanyoung, rubbing his head against the nape of Chanyoung's neck. Unbelievable. Instead of swearing at him, Eunseok clamped his mouth shut and focused on placing water balloons. To begin with, Jung Sungchan wasn’t the kind of person who listened to Song Eunseok anyway.
Even as the grim saga of the faculty lounge sofa—clearly struggling to bear the weight of two men over 180 centimeters tall—began to unfold, nothing changed. It was a hand-me-down someone had picked up after the business faculty said they didn’t want it anymore: the left side sagging, the right side half-burst, a complete disaster. Yet, the two massive men, now perfectly tangled together, showed no intention of moving. Fortunately, the students coming out of their 5:45 P.M. Media Theory class finally arrived to save the sofa from its misery.
The room suddenly flooded with people, and Chanyoung, taking the cue, started packing his bag in silence. Sungchan had already stashed his books in his locker ages ago, so he just sat there with his chin in his hand, watching Chanyoung work. Why did he have so much stuff to put away? Watching him quietly, he almost looked like a squirrel stocking up for winter. Is a squirrel too much? Well, he is a bit big for a squirrel, Sungchan mused, letting his thoughts trail off. He reached out and picked up Chanyoung’s lip balm and hand cream that were rolling around the table. By the time Lee Chanyoung’s packing quest was more or less complete, Sungchan stood up right on cue and lightly shook the items in his hand.
“Hyung got your stuff.”
It was the exact moment that the sofa—formerly of the Business faculty, currently of the Social Science faculty—was finally liberated from its forty-minute ordeal. The two of them politely declined their classmates' invitation to grab dinner and walked over to Song Eunseok, who was still absorbed in Crazy Arcade. “Not leaving?" "Nope." "Dinner?" "You guys go ahead." "Got it." The exchange was brief. As soon as Sungchan turned away and led Chanyoung out of the lounge, the classmate who had been forced to suffer through their conversation against their will turned to Eunseok and asked:
“What does Sungchan hyung like so much about Lee Chanyoung, anyway?”
“He says he’s cute.”
“I mean, there’s a limit to being cute. Are sons always that cute in their dads’ eyes?”
“Why don’t you ask your father?”
“Never mind.”
It is naturally easier to ask the person beside you than one's own father, whatever the question may be. The student shifted his focus to Seungju, the department representative. "Noona, you said you have a younger brother, didn't you? Do you take care of him like that?" Excessive curiosity always invites trouble, and asking a question that defies common sense is a surefire way to get cursed at.
“Are you insane? He can only act like that because they aren't real brothers. If he were his actual brother, he’d want to beat the crap out of him.”
“So it really is fatherly affection? Should I actually go ask my dad?”
How long were they planning to sit there having such a pointless conversation? Having just been utterly crushed in his game by a ‘pay-to-win’ bourgeois player—whose character was decked out in premium items and literal rainbow-colored water bubbles—Eunseok, the 'proletariat', had no desire to join the gossip. “Well, if you don't have a younger brother, I guess you could cherish someone like that.” “And Chanyoung is on the gentle side.” More voices began to join the debate. If you spent enough time in the Social Science faculty, the two of them becoming a topic of conversation wasn’t anything unusual. Eventually, the talk spiraled into: “Wait, are they actually a CC (Campus Couple)?” At that point, Eunseok finally bailed on the lounge. Ugh, I should’ve just followed those two out earlier.
T/N: CC stands for "Campus Couple”. It is an essential slang term used by almost every university student in Korea.
Jung Sungchan and Lee Chanyoung—collectively known as the ‘Social Science Icons’. Whenever they appeared, sightings would spread discreetly across the school’s anonymous online community: "The Icons spotted at the NH Bank in the Main Building basement." Every time one of them held a microphone for a class, the 'Hot' topics section would be flooded with questions like, "Does the person who just presented have a partner?" On top of that, there was a foolproof rule that where one was found, the other would inevitably appear within fifteen minutes. The chance to see two handsome men at the same time gave them bonus points, making them even more popular than the celebrities of other departments.
Because they were always stuck together like a single unit, people began to say, "Aren't they just dating?" or "They aren't the Social Science Icons, they're the Social Science Tandemaus." Eventually, news of their whereabouts was shared in cryptic, code-like messages: "Tandemaus spotted at the new cafe on the intersection." It was unclear if the people responding were dreaming of being Pokémon Hunters or Pokémon Masters, but regardless, anyone eager to see the Tandemaus would begin to stealthily gather at the reported location.
T/N: Tandemaus is a Pokémon that consists of two mice that are always together and act as one unit. Calling them Tandemaus is a cute way to say they are an inseparable pair.
Their classmates basically treated Sungchan and Chanyoung’s relationship as father and son. Whenever Sungchan got all worked up over taking care of Chanyoung, people would joke, “There they go filming Dad, Where Are We Going? again, lol,” or “That’s not even Dad, Where Are We Going? anymore—that’s The Return of Superman.” Still, everyone was dying to know how they actually became this close. Usually, you’d need a few rounds of drinks to get someone to spill a backstory like that, but unfortunately, Chanyoung dodged drinking parties like the plague, and Sungchan was not an easy person to pry information from.
On the rare occasion Chanyoung joined a department club dinner alone, Sungchan would inevitably turn up just as Chanyoung’s face was starting to flush from the alcohol. He got especially protective after he caught Chanyoung’s classmates trying to use Chanyoung’s good looks as bait to get girls from the nearby women’s college to join their table. After that, Sungchan became a total ‘helicopter parent’ in their eyes. They’d tease him, saying, “Hey, Chanyoung! Why’s your dad so strict?” “Is that guy outside really your father?” “What time’s your curfew, anyway?” Because of this, the classmates’ dreams of living out the ‘freshman fantasy’ of group blind dates using Chanyoung as their wingman had long since gone up in flames. The truth about what Chanyoung and Sungchan actually were to each other remained a mystery. Song Eunseok was likely the only one who knew the full story, but since he was even more unapproachable than those two, nobody dared to pester him. That pretty much said it all.
Then came the orientation trip for Chanyoung’s class cohort. When Chanyoung hit the ‘Attending’ button on the group chat poll, a few people cheered inwardly. They figured they’d finally get to benefit from Chanyoung’s face. Their delusion was simple: once Chanyoung was out from under Sungchan’s thumb, they could sweet-talk him into going on at least one group blind date. This was only possible because Chanyoung’s public persona was that of a shy, gentle, and pushover-type kid. For the record, despite his looks, Lee Chanyoung was actually a bullheaded guy with a very firm sense of self. Anything he did not wish to do, he would simply meet with a sweet smile while pretending not to hear, pretending not to understand, or drawing on his experience as an international student to casually ignore them altogether. Thanks to that, their ambitious plan failed miserably. For a whole week afterward, his classmates clung to him, pathetically refusing to give up.
It had been a week and two days since they started trying to sneakily recruit Chanyoung for a group date behind Sungchan's back. That was when Sungchan, gifted with an unexpected free period due to his professor’s flat tire, decided to conduct a ‘surprise inspection’. At that very moment, a classmate was in the middle of a desperate plea. “Ah, Chanyoung, seriously, just this once! Just think of it as going out to make friends and—” The door burst open. Silence. It was an unannounced visit, but since the two usually spent every waking moment together, the classmates' failure to account for Sungchan’s sudden free time was a fatal miscalculation.
“Where are you going out to?”
“…Sorry?”
“No, not you, Gitae. Is Chanyoung going to meet friends?”
“I’m not.”
“Then what is it?”
I’m screwed. Gitae quickly glanced at Sungchan, trying to read his mood. Sungchan was a peculiar case. He was handsome, tall, and had a good personality. Even though he was a returning student, he never acted like a know-it-all senior, and he was good at reading the room—he never awkwardly planted himself at freshmen drinking gatherings without being invited. Of course, there were also people who wished Sungchan would join them. When juniors called him “sunbae,” he would gently correct them, saying not to be so formal and to call him “hyung” instead, and he was one of the rare seniors who actually kept every casual promise of “I’ll buy you a meal sometime.”
T/N: sunbae=senior
His reputation was stellar among both guys and girls. If a freshman ever asked, "What's Sungchan like?" nothing but praise would come out, like a vending machine dispensing good stories. Since he started school, he was the first person called for every department event, big or small, and he never turned them down. Word has it that before he met Chanyoung and they became the ‘Social Science Tandemaus’, he was known as the It Guy of the Social Science faculty.
Yet, the truth was that they were all in the dark. They didn't know if Jung Sungchan still lived in the dormitory or off-campus; or if he had a girlfriend. No one knew his Baskin-Robbins order, what he liked to drink, or even how many bottles he could handle before getting drunk. So no matter how many times someone asked, “What’s Sungchan like?” the answers were always the same vague clichés: “He’s handsome,” “He’s nice,” “Isn't he sweet?” Finding out anything specific about his actual tastes was like reaching for the stars.
In short, Sungchan was surrounded by so many walls that just when you thought you’d cleared one, you found hundreds more standing between you and his inner circle. To Gitae, Sungchan was a kind senior, but also someone hard to figure out—a senior who carried a certain invisible line, someone subtly difficult to approach. And when Sungchan wasn’t smiling, it was even worse. Is Sungchan-hyung… angry right now? Gitae wondered. It was hard enough to deal with his own father; let alone trying to soothe the wrath of someone else’s ‘father figure’. Chanyoung, seeing Gitae whimpering like a restless puppy, finally took pity on him and opened his mouth.
“Group blind date? Something like that, anyway. He’s asking me to go with them.”
“Do you even know what that is?”
“Isn’t it just… making friends?”
“Do you need more friends, Chanyoung?”
“I mean, it’s good to have them.”
“Then what about me?”
“Hyung is hyung. Not friend.”
“I thought everyone was 'friends' in America?”
Sungchan, distracted by his argument with Chanyoung after leaving Gitae a nervous wreck, was suddenly smacked on the back by Seungju. She was one of the few people who dared to get physical with him. “Give it a rest, will you? Chanyoung is a freshman; let him enjoy a group date. Honestly, 'Dad,' what kind of parent coddles a grown son like this?” But then, something unexpected happened. Despite Seungju taking his side, Chanyoung started stroking Sungchan’s back where she had hit him. Watching this, Seungju felt her blood boil like a rice cooker reaching full pressure. “Why are you hitting hyung…?” Chanyoung murmured. It was a soft-spoken yet heavy blow to her pride. She let out a hollow laugh, completely floored.
“Unbelievable. You guys have been playing us this whole time, haven’t you? You’re not father and son—you’re a CC, right?”
“Yeah,” Sungchan answered casually. “Actually, we are.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me...”
Everyone in the lounge knew that Sungchan—with his bright, slick smile—was just joking. Everyone except Chanyoung. For starters, Chanyoung didn't even know what ‘CC’ meant. Campus couple, shortened to CC. There was no way Anton Chanyoung Lee, who had lived in the United States his whole life, would understand that kind of Konglish. "What's a CC?" Chanyoung poked Sungchan in the side and whispered. Sungchan immediately caught the hand that poked him. He turned it over and, on the open palm, began to slowly trace out characters with his fingertip:
Y O U, M E.
For a joke to land, the listener has to understand it. All the while, with one hand surrendered to his hyung, Chanyoung racked his brains trying to figure out exactly how he and Sungchan could possibly become a ‘C’ and a ‘C’. He was so lost in thought that he barely noticed—well, he tried not to notice—Sungchan tickling his palm, stroking the back of his hand, and playing with his fingers, intertwining them and letting go. Finally, he reached a conclusion of his own.
Is it because we’re Chan-young and Sung-chan? So in English, C and C? And so, Chanyoung defined ‘CC’ in his own way.
Following Sungchan’s ‘CC declaration’, the attempts to sneakily recruit Chanyoung for group blind dates finally came to an end. No one truly thought they were a Campus Couple; they simply came to the realization that Sungchan’s protective ‘parenting’ was even more over-the-top than they had imagined. “Hey, what do you even call a dad who loves his son that much? Is it some kind of complex?” “Sungchan hyung’s paternal instinct is on another level.”
In fact, Jung Sungchan didn't even think about finding a word to describe his relationship with Chanyoung. He didn't think there was any need. He just laughed when others talked about paternal love and all that. He had no desire to compress their bond into the flat, confining shape of a single label.
The first time Jung Sungchan saw Lee Chanyoung was a week before the start of the semester, at the dormitory gate. Sungchan had come out carrying a bag of recyclables, and from the moment he noticed the broad-shouldered guy standing by the gate, he found himself uneasy. Even by the time Sungchan finished sorting the recycling and came back, the man was still standing there like a stone statue. And he was carrying so much luggage—two suitcases to drag, plus a backpack big enough to cover his entire back. Sungchan was the kind of person who couldn’t just walk past someone who seemed to need help. That was simply how he had been raised. He reached out and lightly tapped the man on the shoulder. The moment the face tucked under the beanie whipped around to look at him, Sungchan found himself smiling. The guy was about as tall as he was, but the features on his small face were incredibly soft and delicate. Definitely a freshman, he thought. Confusion and relief were visible in his blinking eyes.
“Have you been to the administration office to pick up your entry card? You need to scan it to get inside.”
“Ah, thank you.”
He was soft-spoken—his voice matched his face perfectly. Sungchan was about to head back when a hand suddenly caught the end of his sleeve. “But... where is the office?” The way the corners of his eyes drooped as he asked made it hard to walk away. Sungchan picked up one of Chanyoung’s suitcases and said, “Come with me.” After safely delivering Lee Chanyoung to the administration office, what did he do? While Chanyoung was getting his card issued, Sungchan waited patiently with the luggage. Once the card was ready, he accompanied Chanyoung to the elevator and explained how to use it. “You have to scan this card before you can press the floor button.” Of course, even though this was Chanyoung’s first experience receiving a dormitory entry card, he had ridden hotel-style elevators countless times before and already knew this much—but he remained silent and let Sungchan explain. By the time he came to his senses, Jung Sungchan had already carried all the luggage to the door of Chanyoung’s room. Even when Chanyoung said it was fine, Sungchan had taken it upon himself to help. To this day, he still does not fully understand why he did it. He simply wanted to. Chanyoung was a grown man of at least twenty, capable of managing the rest, but Sungchan couldn't bring himself to walk away. Chanyoung’s clear, pure face seemed to linger, floating through his very veins.
“It seems your roommate hasn't arrived yet. Get your things sorted, and get some good rest.”
In truth, Sungchan had wanted to bombard him with questions: Did he know the curfew? Was he aware of the monthly cleaning inspections? Did he know the location of the laundry room, or where to find a meal? Did he know he needed his entry card to get meal tickets at the cafeteria.? The questions had lined up in his throat, but he held them back, knowing it would be overstepping to interfere that much with someone he had just met, and turned to leave. Still, the boy’s appearance—so strikingly reminiscent of a puppy—combined with those clear, earnest eyes made it impossible not to feel concerned. Even someone as detached as Song Eunseok would likely have found it difficult to walk away without offering assistance.
After he got back, Sungchan regretted it the entire time. If I’d known it would bother me this much, I would’ve just told him everything earlier. Even if he thought I was weird, I should’ve explained it all before leaving. He scrubbed his hair and took a shower, but that lingering feeling of unease wouldn't wash away. The feeling lasted for two whole days. He couldn't exactly barge into a stranger's room while they were trying to rest, so he spent his time loitering around various floors of the dormitory, hoping for a ‘chance’ encounter. But he didn’t catch so much as a glimpse of a single hair.
Three days after their first meeting, Sungchan—who had been practically dragged there by Seungju—arrived at the freshman welcoming party and spotted Lee Chanyoung sitting there blankly. He didn’t even bother greeting the classmates he was seeing for the first time since returning to school; he walked straight over and stopped in front of Chanyoung. So we finally meet again. I knew he was a freshman.
However, there was one thing Sungchan had overlooked. While he had been tormented for three days by a strange sense of guilt, Chanyoung had not. While Sungchan was incredibly relieved to see him, Chanyoung might easily have looked at him and thought, ‘What’s his deal?’ A flicker of embarrassment crossed Sungchan’s face as he realized he was acting far too familiar. But before that look could even take hold, Chanyoung’s face lit up. Like a flower bud suddenly bursting into bloom, he turned a radiant, sunshine-bright smile toward Sungchan. At the sight of those gentle, wide eyes looking up at him, Sungchan’s own eyes instantly crinkled into a warm, helpless curve.
“Isn’t it nice to see a familiar face?”
“Yes. It felt a little awkward earlier.”
Acting completely out of character, Jung Sungchan committed the atrocious, tactless senior move of leaving the returning-students’ table and squeezing himself in beside a freshman. From that day on, he took care of Chanyoung with extreme devotion.
The more he got to know Chanyoung, the more unique he seemed. Having arrived from the United States only recently, his Korean was still somewhat clumsy, yet he was remarkably capable and self-reliant for someone in that position. He was shy around strangers but possessed excellent social skills; although he did not have any particularly close friends, he got along well with everyone in his cohort. His voice was soft, yet he was by no means quiet—if one listened closely, he would be chattering away in that small voice about this and that. When the two of them were alone together, Chanyoung actually talked more than Sungchan did. He knew how to be stubborn, refusing to budge once he'd made up his mind, and he could be quite defiant. If he felt wronged, he’d even raise his voice. And then, within an hour, he would come running back to apologize, which Sungchan found funny. Whenever Chanyoung said or did something unexpected, Sungchan found it refreshing to be caught off guard, like a pleasant smack to the back of the head. He felt like he might even be willing to offer up the back of his own head first, just for Chanyoung.
Still, his way of speaking was always gentle, and no matter how sharply he glared, the slightly drooping corners of his eyes softened his whole expression. Because of that, no matter what Chanyoung did, it was impossible to find him annoying or get truly angry with him. In the first place, he wasn’t the kind of person to act that way anyway. He still grabbed the edge of a sleeve whenever he had a question, and he still carried around a backpack the size of a turtle shell. His eyes still gave away exactly how he was feeling, and he still didn't seem to have any interest in hiding it. It was exactly like when they first met.
Sungchan knew nothing of paternal or maternal instincts; he had never been a parent. A younger brother? He’d never had one of those, either. A puppy? Calling a person a puppy felt somewhat inappropriate. Moreover, when his own dog Gyeoul came home after playing with other dogs, Sungchan did not feel the slightest pang of jealousy. But the idea of Chanyoung becoming closer to someone else than he was to him? That felt like it would actually hurt. The whole group blind date incident was like that, too. Sure, he could get a girlfriend. It would be weirder if he didn't. However, Sungchan felt there was no need for him to participate in a meeting with such a singular, romantic purpose. Developing feelings for someone you meet naturally is one thing, but going out with the specific purpose of finding someone was an entirely different matter. Or so he told himself.
Even when Song Eunseok told him he was going overboard and scolded him for it, Sungchan didn’t take it very seriously. He reasoned that, in the course of life, it is not impossible for such a person to appear at least once. Since Chanyoung was American and wouldn’t have to leave for the military, Sungchan wanted to keep him close and dote on him until graduation. Even after getting a job, as long as their schedules matched, he was more than willing to keep meeting Chanyoung and taking him around here and there. In fact, he was already doing that. From how to order at Subway to how to navigate the subway system, there wasn’t a single part of Chanyoung’s life that Sungchan hadn’t had a hand in. He understood why people saw them as father and son, which was why he didn't bother arguing about it.
Ultimately, if he were forced to name it, Chanyoung was a ‘precious dongsaeng’ to him. He was a being that demonstrated just how much one could dote on another of the same gender without being related by blood—an existence that remained an exception to every category in Jung Sungchan’s life.
T/N: Dongsaeng = It is used to refer to anyone younger than you (a younger brother/sister or a younger friend).
Now, let’s hear what’s going on in Chanyoung’s head. Whenever someone would ask him, “What do you think of Sungchan-hyung?” Chanyoung would give a simple, neat answer: “He’s nice.” When he looked at him, words like ‘American sweetheart’ often came to mind. What was the Korean equivalent again? Universal ideal type? He’d been so curious that he even secretly searched it online.
The truth was, anyone who spent time with Sungchan was bound to like him. His looks, his height, and his style were so obvious it was a waste of breath to even mention them, but he was also kind at heart. For Jung Sungchan, looking after people and taking care of them wasn't exactly a difficult task. While his upbringing certainly played a part, some people were simply born that way. Kindness can be learned through effort, but 'sense'—that social tact—isn't something you get just by trying hard. Quickly noticing what’s needed and helping out just the right amount; Sungchan did that difficult thing effortlessly. He performed acts filled with kindness and tact as naturally as eating breakfast, and he never once made a show of it or acted like he was doing a favor. It would be almost ridiculous not to like a person like that.
Even on that first day, it shouldn’t have mattered to Sungchan whether Chanyoung stood in that spot for hours or not. Chanyoung hadn’t even asked for help. And yet Jung Sungchan found himself bothered by the sight of a fully grown guy standing there, went out of his way to talk to him, to look after him, and even carry his luggage. Then, he simply told him to get some rest and vanished. Chanyoung, having missed his chance to say thank you, just stared at the closed door, Sungchan’s face flickering like an afterimage every time he blinked.
Later, at the freshman welcoming party, Chanyoung recognized Sungchan the moment he walked in. But that was it. He didn't expect Sungchan to speak to him, nor did he have any intention of speaking first. He was so busy worrying about how many more minutes he had to sit there before he could slip away naturally that his head was practically about to start steaming—when Sungchan, who had come right up to him, switched off the power button. His hovering hips finally landed back in the seat. Sungchan took the seat next to him and began asking his name, his age, and where he was from. Something about Sungchan’s face and the way he spoke felt so sweet and intimate that it made Chanyoung feel shy, making him huddle his shoulders and shrink back.
For someone he had only met twice, the man had been excessively warm and friendly—and from that point on, he maintained that same temperature. Neither cold nor overly hot, just the right warmth. The perfect warmth to stay close to. Korea was far too foreign for Chanyoung to turn away the kindness being poured on him. Whether or not Sungchan knew that Chanyoung felt a bit guilty for clinging to him, whenever Chanyoung took a small step closer, Sungchan was always the first to reach out and take his hand. After this repeated a few times, Chanyoung no longer felt any need to keep his distance.
“What are you doing this weekend, Chanyoung?”
"Nothing."
“You’re not going anywhere? Isn’t there any place in Korea you wanted to visit after coming here?”
“It’s just... I still find it hard to navigate the subway.”
Chanyoung had only stated a fact calmly, but something about it must have struck Sungchan. He immediately went and begged Song Eunseok to cover his weekend shift, then took Chanyoung out. The university was on Line 1. When Sungchan pulled up the dark-blue route map on his phone and told him to pick any station name that caught his eye, Chanyoung pointed at one at random. Sungchan immediately broke into a smile, saying there happened to be a pizza place he liked nearby. The curve of his eyes as they folded slightly at the corners formed a beautiful line without a single flaw. Seeing it always made Chanyoung feel happier too.
Both Chanyoung and Sungchan were tall enough to tower two heads above everyone else wherever they went, but Sungchan was still so anxious about losing Chanyoung that the moment things got a little crowded, he’d start frantically looking left and right to find him. As if that wasn't enough, he’d personally grab Chanyoung’s hand and place it on his backpack, telling him to follow closely. For a moment, Lee Chanyoung had the absurd thought: Have I shrunk to the size of an elementary school student?
And so, following Sungchan, Chanyoung gradually cleared one thing after another—starting with conquering Line 1, then learning how to transfer, then Lines 2, 3, and 4. The day they rode the Bundang Line and arrived at Seoul Forest, Sungchan finally told him that his training was officially over and that he had graduated.
“What do you mean?”
“Never mind. Just call hyung if there’s anywhere you want to go.”
Even though his ‘graduation’ had been revoked just three seconds after it was declared, Sungchan’s words—from the very first syllable to the faint laugh at the end of the sentence—burrowed deep into Chanyoung’s ears. Only then did Chanyoung realize something was amiss. He felt a tiny surge of regret for having played along all this time, following Sungchan around while pretending not to notice the affection and attention he was receiving in a place where he had no friends or family. Chanyoung wasn’t young enough to be ignorant of what that faint, ticklish feeling rising from his toes actually meant. Having dated during his years in America, he knew exactly what it was. But this wasn't right. He belatedly realized the need to maintain a safe distance.
Chanyoung liked delicate, charming things. He had longed for a younger sibling since childhood, and once his brother was born, he doted on him endlessly. Jung Sungchan’s physical appearance was far from ‘delicate and charming’, but the things he did for Chanyoung were exactly that—delicate, detailed, and charming. Installing a food delivery app on Chanyoung’s phone, teaching him how to use the e-hailing app... “You need to know how to eat and how to get home even when hyung isn’t around.” He would say such things with a perfectly serious expression, yet in reality Chanyoung had never once ordered food or taken a taxi on his own without Sungchan. Sungchan was always looking out for him. Those little acts of care felt… delicate and charming in their own way. A truth realized so suddenly often brings discomfort. Occasionally, he felt the urge to ask: Why do you treat me so well? You don't do this for others. Each time, though, he swallowed the words back down with a sip of coffee. Jung Sungchan was undoubtedly responsible for at least two-thirds of the increase in Lee Chanyoung’s caffeine intake.
Does that person really see me as a younger brother, like a son, or like a puppy?—sometimes Sungchan even called Chanyoung by ridiculous nicknames like that. How could a person be a puppy? Once he realized that agonizing over it by himself only served to mess up his mind, Chanyoung gave up thinking too deeply about it. He had to start pruning his feelings before the moment came when Sungchan’s small acts of kindness were no longer pleasant to receive. He cut back the growing branches, and cut them again, and kept cutting. He resolved to expect nothing more, to hope for nothing beyond exactly what Sungchan chose to give, and to accept no more than that. Cleanly.
To sum up, Lee Chanyoung liked Jung Sungchan. Isn't it hard not to like someone like that? There were times when he was like family, and times when he was like a friend. And he could have liked him in other ways too, but he just chose not to. He believed that would be for the best, for both of them, in the long run.
The relationship between the two of them was like a lake so clear you could see straight through it. On the surface, it looked perfectly peaceful, but whenever the wind blew, the calm water would quickly begin to ripple. They say the clearer the water, the harder it is to gauge its depth; to trust what meets the eye and plunge in carelessly was to risk becoming submerged by the profound depth of feeling it concealed. The moment someone accidentally threw a stone, this peace would be over. Though they desperately hoped such a misfortune would never occur, life is rarely interesting if it follows the script.
And as it turned out, life stayed true to form—because, surprisingly, the one who finally threw the stone was not Jung Sungchan, but Lee Chanyoung.
It was the day after midterms and a week before the university autumn festival. Sungchan sat in the department lounge, waiting for Chanyoung to finish his final test. Chanyoung had one more subject left than Sungchan. “I want to go to Seoul Forest one more time before it gets cold.” Sungchan hadn’t forgotten those words. He was already planning to pick Chanyoung up the moment the exam ended and head out together, and the thought alone made the corners of his mouth lift. Will he like it? When Chanyoung was in a good mood, he would always smile brightly and bite his lower lip once. The fact that a guy three years younger, with such a cute little habit, could be this adorable was almost a talent in itself. The more Sungchan imagined Chanyoung’s reaction, the higher his excitement climbed. If not for something Kang Seungju said, that green light of anticipation would have just kept soaring.
“Hey, Jung Sungchan! Is it true about Chanyoung?”
“What is?”
“That Lee Chanyoung is in a CC.”
“Oh, that’s just a joke I make.”
“No! Everyone knows that part. I’m not talking about you two—I mean he’d actually become a campus couple!”
The Social Science Tandemaus was officially breaking up? This was huge. It wasn’t just an issue; it was Top 3 News since the founding of the Media Communications department. Seungju had directed the question at Sungchan, but others in the lounge, catching the scent of a scoop, swarmed in. "What? Chanyoung got a girlfriend?” “Isn't there a curse that if you touch the department 'Icon,' three generations of your family will have bad luck?” “More importantly, when did he even find a girlfriend without his ‘dad’ noticing?” As they spoke while stealing glances at Jung Sungchan, the already stiff muscles at the back of his neck felt as though every fine hair had stood on end. Yet Sungchan himself had not registered a single word of what Seungju said. CC? Girlfriend? Chanyoung? Normally, he would have had some kind of reaction, but his silent clenching and unclenching of his fists made everyone sense an ominous aura. Oh, we're screwed. Gitae, caught in the middle and remembering his past nightmares, whipped out his phone and shot a text message to Chanyoung:[Hey, Chanyoung, your dad is seriously pissed.]
“Who said that?”
“You didn’t know either? Well, usually when you get a boyfriend or girlfriend, you tell your dad last.”
“Stop joking around, where did you hear that?”
“Why are you taking it out on me just because your son’s hit puberty?”
“Did Chanyoung say that himself?”
“Yeah. You know my junior from high school, the one in Business Administration? His friend is in the same elective and group as Chanyoung, and apparently Chanyoung said it himself. He even asked me who Lee Chanyoung’s girlfriend was. But how would I know? I thought you would.”
Heh. Even biting down on his molars, Sungchan couldn’t stop the hollow laugh that escaped in disbelief. He could feel his mood souring in real-time. A girlfriend? Since when? Where did they even meet? The one who most wanted to grab Lee Chanyoung right now and interrogate him about everything wasn’t Kang Seungju, or Seungju’s junior, or Chanyoung’s classmates. It was Jung Sungchan himself.
“I know it’s upsetting that your son hid his dating life from you, but isn't that all part of the process of becoming independent? You can't keep him in your arms forever, ‘Dad’.”
Seungju, unable to just watch, offered those words as a kind of consolation. Sungchan had to try quite hard to force a smile onto his face. Faking a smile was usually nothing for him; he’d even managed it in front of the most unbearable sergeants during his military service. But now, his lips refused to move, and the effort of trying to pull the corners of his mouth up made his temples feel tight with tension. Gitae found himself in a dilemma. Should he tell Lee Chanyoung to come down to the lounge right away, or should he tell him to avoid the room entirely and run straight back to the dorm?
Bang.
The door swung open. It was Lee Chanyoung.
Jung Sungchan and Lee Chanyoung’s lives were racing toward the cliffhanger scene of episode 10 of a sixteen-episode K-drama.
“Hyung, what’s wrong?”
The moment he read Gitae’s text message, Chanyoung rushed to the faculty lounge as if his feet were on fire, and the first thing he did was examine Sungchan’s expression. Hyung is angry? Why? Others might not notice, but to Sungchan it was obvious at a glance that all of Chanyoung’s attention was focused on reading his mood. It was almost funny—the person who had caused this mess was the one acting so concerned. Sungchan found the whole situation ridiculous. He found himself pathetic for being so worked up and twisted over Chanyoung having a girlfriend, but he found it even more absurd that his boiling anger had vanished the second he saw that pure, clear face. If he asked why he hadn’t told him about the girlfriend, Chanyoung would surely look sorry right away, wearing that puppy-like expression of his. Just imagining those already-droopy eyes sinking even lower with guilt made Sungchan feel miserable. He didn’t want to see that face.
“Nothing. Did you do well on the test?”
“Just so-so. But are you really sure nothing’s wrong?”
“Yes.”
“Your face looks weird, though. Come on, give me a smile. Smile.”
A pair of light fingertips rose to rest upon Sungchan’s cheeks. Chanyoung’s index fingers stayed there, gently pushing the corners of Sungchan’s mouth into a smile. "It's Happy Friday. And I'm finished with my tests." As Sungchan’s mouth was forced into a smile, Chanyoung’s own lips began to curl up in response. Watching him do this, Sungchan found it impossible to stay mad. He didn't even want to care about CCs or secret girlfriends anymore. All that mattered was taking Chanyoung around every corner of Seoul Forest, and nothing else. Sungchan, who had erased all other thoughts, ruffled Chanyoung’s beanie-clad head and coaxed him to hurry up and leave. Having scrambled away with Chanyoung before any more nonsense could be said, Sungchan saw campus couples everywhere, strutting across the grounds.
“But Chanyoung-ah.”
“Yes?”
“…Never mind.”
“What is it?”
“Who are you closest to?”
“What’s that all of a sudden?”
“Just curious.”
“We’re literally going out together right now, what kind of question is that?”
Chanyoung furrowed his brows, staring at Sungchan as if to say, what are you even talking about? He looked ready to press a hand to Sungchan’s forehead to check for a fever at any moment. Others might not know it, but Chanyoung was this delicate. This tender. He was acutely sensitive to any change in Sungchan’s complexion. It was a sensitivity reserved only for Sungchan. Watching Chanyoung’s eyes busily following his every move felt exceptionally precious. Sungchan hoped that, for a long time to come, he would remain the only one on the receiving end of Chanyoung’s attentiveness. The thought of those restless, bright eyes flitting across someone else’s face made him feel like even yesterday’s dinner might come back up. Even the sticker on your phone case right now is one I put on. Chanyoung-ah, please don't make hyung feel childish.
Even as the one exception in his life grew more significant, blurring all his usual boundaries, Sungchan was still occupied with doting on him. While Chanyoung kept the stray branches of his own feelings trimmed back to stay in line, Sungchan just kept pouring out affection, never noticing that his own heart was starting to grow wild branches of its own.