Chapter Text
The thing about anonymity is that it feels a lot like breathing room.
For the first nineteen years of his life, Skylar had existed under the impression that every room he walked into was lined with mirrors, and every mirror was judging him. High school had been a series of tight corners, held breath, and the constant, suffocating dread of the floor dropping out from underneath his feet.
But the campus of Seoul National University didn’t care about him.
To the thousands of students rushing past the brick facades of the humanities buildings, Skylar was just a boy in an oversized beige cardigan, carrying a stack of heavy psychology textbooks, squinting against the bright spring afternoon sun. He’s not the boy with secrets. He was just Skylar, a sophomore, trackable only by the library books checked out under his student ID.
He liked it that way, loved even.
Sitting at a small wooden table outside the campus cafe, Skylar took a slow sip of his iced Americano, letting the bitter taste settle on his tongue. The air smelled like crushed cherry blossoms and espresso beans. For the first time in as long as he could remember, his shoulders weren’t hunched. His fingers weren’t trembling against the plastic cup.
He looked down at his open notebook, tapping his pen against a neatly highlighted paragraph on cognitive behavioral theory, a small genuine smile tucking into the corner of his lips.
I’m okay, he thought, the realization hitting him with a gentle warmth. I’m actually okay.
Then, his phone buzzed against the table.
The screen lit up with a contact name that still made his chest tighten—not with fear anymore, but with a sudden, ridiculous rush of heat that went straight to his ears.
Cirrus: <Sent an image>
Cirrus: i hate cows Sky. I hate them so much why did i choose this major.
Cirrus: <Sent an image>
Cirrus: look at his face he knows im failing anatomy
Skylar snorted, a soft and breathless sound, as he tapped the image open. It was a blur, poorly framed selfie of Cirrus in a sterile-looking lab at KG University. He was wearing a white coat that looked impossibly clean, his pale blonde hair slightly messy, and his arms crossed in a dramatic pout. In the background, a massive cow model sat on a metal table.
Despite the complaining text, Cirrus looked beautiful. He always did. The sharp, striking lines of his face hadn’t changed, but the dark, hollow exhaustion he’d carried during their senior year had finally faded—replaced by something brighter. Something alive.
Skylar typed back quickly, his thumb flying across the keyboard.
Skylar: It’s day 3 of the semester. You can’t fail anatomy yet. And leave the cow alone, he didn’t do anything to you.
The reply was instantaneous.
Cirrus: im coming over
Cirrus: immediateyl
Cirrus: ❤️
Cirrus: im skipping my 3pm lecture
Cirrus: If i look at this cow for another five minutes im going to cook it
Skylar’s heart did a stupid flip. He could practically hear Cirrus’ whiny, demanding tone through the screen.
Skylar: Cirrus, no. You have a quiz on friday. Stay in class
Cirrus: too late
Cirrus: already on the subway
Cirrus: be there in twenty. you better be wearing that beige sweater i like
Skylar let out a soft sigh, but the smile on his face was helpless, completely spilling over. He shook his head, lowering his phone to type out a strict scolding to tell Cirrus to turn right back around.
“...hahaha! Are you stupid? That’s gross man…”
A sharp, distinct laugh echoed from the path just a few yards away. The kind of laugh that belonged to someone who knew exactly how attractive they were when they smiled.
Skylar’s hand froze halfway across his screen.
The air in his lungs suddenly felt like concrete. The warm spring breeze traveling across the courtyard felt violently freezing against the back of his neck. His stomach did a sickening, familiar drop—a phantom ache from a year ago flaring to life so fast it made him dizzy.
No.
Without thinking, his chin lifted, his gaze dragging rapidly toward the brick pathway leading to the main square. His eyes scanned the crowd frantically, looking for a tall boy with perfectly styled dark hair, a neat navy blazer, a cold, calculating look—
There was no one.
Just a group of regular freshmen laughing over a tablet. A couple holding hands by the convenience store. A professor carrying a stack of papers. Just strangers. Entirely regular strangers.
Skylar sat frozen, his heart hammering against his ribs in a stuttering rhythm. He closed his eyes, forcing a deep breath into his lungs, and pressed his palm against his forehead.
Get a grip, he told himself harshly. It’s a different city. He’s gone. You’re just paranoid because things have been too peaceful. High school had trained his brain to expect a trap around every corner, but the ghost wasn’t here. He was safe.
“Hey! Skylar!”
Skylar flinched, his eyes snapping open. One of his classmates, a cheerful guy from his morning statistics lecture, was jogging toward his table, waving a packet of papers.
“Ah, thank god you’re still here,” he smiled, panting slightly as he slid into the chair opposite Skylar. “Professor Kang just changed the rubric for the midterm project. He said if we don’t adjust our thesis statements by tonight, we can lose five percent of the baseline grade—can I look over your outline real quick?” he stared at Skylar with pleading eyes, gluing both of his palms together.
“I feel like my variables are completely messed up. I swear, it’ll just take a minute!”
Jeez, this feels even more familiar.
“Oh—uh, yeah. Sure.” He blinked, shaking off the residual coldness in his veins. He forced his mind back into focus, pulling his laptop closer. “Let me just open the file…”
In the distraction, forty minutes away on the campus of KG University, the afternoon sun hit the large glass windows of the veterinary science building.
Cirrus was leaning against a concrete pillar in the hallway, his face dark as he stared intently at his phone screen. One minute had passed. Then three. Then five. The little bubbled indicating Skylar was typing had vanished completely, leaving his last text hanging in mid-air.
Cirrus: just got off at the campus station. where r u?
Read 2:14 PM
No response.
Cirrus’ jaw clenched, his thumb aggressively tapping the screen. A dark, possessive irritation flared in his chest, his old high school habits tracing a familiar line of panic through his mind. Why isn’t he answering? Is he with someone? Did he leave his phone? Did he change his mind? He hated not knowing. He hated the miles between SNU and KG. He hated that he couldn’t just reach out and grab Skylar’s wrist to keep him right where he could see him.
“Wow. If you glare at that screen any harder, it’s actually gonna catch fire.”
Cirrus snapped his head up, his expression instantly shifting into a cold, defensive scowl.
Standing in front of him was Kim Seol-ah. She was holding a large iced latte in one hand and a heavy veterinary anatomy binder in the other. Her long black hair was tied back, and the small mole near the right side of her lips shifted as she gave him a cheeky, teasing grin.
“Get out of my face, Kim.” Cirrus snapped, shoving his phone into his coat pocket and crossing his arms.
“Can’t do that, freshman,” Seol-ah cooed, completely unfazed by his hostile aura. She leaned against the pillar right next to him, taking a loud ass sip of her drink. “Professor Park is looking for you. You were supposed to be helping set up the kymograph equipment for the next lab section, but instead, you’re standing out here looking like an abandoned puppy. Who ignored your text? Mommy did?”
“None of your business.” Cirrus barked, his eyes darting back to his pocket, itching to check the screen again.
“You’re slacking on day three,” Seol-ah jested, nudging his shoulder with her elbow. She was smart, playful, and had zero fear of Cirrus’ infamous temper, which only irritated him more.
“Come on golden boy, move your feet. If the professor catches you hiding out here, he’s going to assign you the horse stall clean-up duty for the rest of the month, and I am not doing it for you.”
Cirrus let out a sharp, frustrated breath, trailing behind her as she turned toward the lab doors. But as he walked, his hand slid back into his pocket, his fingers tightly gripping the cold metal of his phone.
You better have a good excuse for ignoring me.
------
By the time Skylar managed to untangle himself from his classmate, his iced americano had entirely melted.
“Seriously, Skylar, you’re a lifesaver,” the guy said, bowing about three times as he scooped up his messy notes. “If I failed this baseline, my dad would actually cut off my allowance. I owe you a meal. Or five.”
“It’s fine,” Skylar said with a polite, small wave, mentally exhausted. “Just make sure you change that independent variable before midnight.”
The second his classmate sprinted off toward the library, Skylar collapsed back against his chair. He let out a long breath, stretching his stiff neck. His brain felt fried, but the frantic panic that phantom laugh had finally faded into a dull, slightly embarrassing ache.
I really need to stop doing that, he thought, rubbing his eyes. If I jump every time a guy with a nice laugh walks past the engineering building, I’m going to end up in the university clinic before midterms.
Then, his gaze fell on his phone. It was still face down on the wood.
Skylar blinked, a sudden realization hitting him like a bucket of cold water.
Cirrus.
He flipped the phone over. The lock screen lit up, and Skylar’s stomach plummeted. There were nine missed calls and a string of text messages that grew progressively more unhinged with every passing minute.
Cirrus: Skylar?
Cirrus: hey
Cirrus: why arent u replying? you read it
Cirrus: Sky
Cirrus: did you fall into a ditch?
Cirrus: Skylar, im at the station. If youre playing a joke on me its not funny
Cirrus: Fine. im walking to your campus. If i get lost and a stray cat attacks me, its ur fault
Cirrus: <Missed Call - 2:22 PM>
Cirrus: <Missed Call - 2:25 PM>
Cirrus: SKY.
Cirrus: <Missed Call - 2:28 PM>
Cirrus: are you dead? If you’re dead, text me so I know
Skylar scrambled to unlock the phone, his thumbs practically tripping over each other as he typed out a response.
Skylar: I’m so sorry, Cirrus!
Skylar: A classmate trapped me about a statistics project and my phone was face down. I didn’t see the notifications. Where are you??
The reply came back so fast Skylar wondered if Cirrus had been staring at the screen without blinking.
Cirrus: behind you.
Skylar choked on his own breath, physically whipping his head around so fast he nearly heard his phone hitting the floor.
Standing right at the edge of the cafe patio, looking incredibly out of place among the sleepy students, was Cirrus. He was still wearing his dark winter coat, his hands shoved deep into his pockets, and his blonde hair was a complete windblown mess. He looked handsome, ridiculous, and thoroughly annoyed.
“You,” Cirrus muttered, walking over with long, dramatic strides. He pulled out the chair across from Skylar and threw himself into it, slouching until his chin nearly hit his chest. “You are a terrible boyfriend. I was about to file a missing persons report. I had the description ready and everything. ‘Short, wearing a beige cardigan, easily started, smells like sun-dried cotton, answers to the name Skylar.’”
Skylar’s cheeks burned, but the sheer absurdity of Cirrus’ entrance completely wiped out the last remnants of his anxiety. He reached across the table, gently tugging at the sleeve of Cirrus’ coat.
“I told you, someone stopped me for homework.” Skylar said softly, trying to suppress a smile. “And I’m not short.”
“You’re short enough to get lost in a crowd of tall idiots.” Cirrus mumbled, though he didn’t pull his sleeve away. In fact, his eyes softened the moment he looked closely at Skylar’s face, checking him over with that intense scrutiny he always had. He reached out, his long fingers lightly brushing against Skylar’s wrist. “You look pale. Did that statistics guy bully you? Do I need to beat him up?”
“No one bullied me. It was just math.” Skylar laughed, his heart doing a warm, comfortable swell. He leaned into the touch of Cirrus’ hand, feeling the solid, grounding reality of him. “Why are you even here? You really skipped your afternoon class?”
“I told you, the cow was mocking me.” he uttered seriously, leaning forward and resting his chin on Skylar’s palm. “And… I wanted to see you.”
Warmth rose from Skylar’s face, earning a cheeky grin from his golden cloud. But Cirrus chose not to tease the man, he might get a beating before even reaching his fourth day.
“...And because KG bores me.”
Skylar frowned.
“Everyone there smells like horse medicine and the professors keep talking about parasites. It’s gross.”
Skylar frowned again.
“You chose Veterinary Medicine, Cirrus.”
“I chose it for Candy, not for the parasites.” He grumbled. Then, his eyes narrowed as he looked at Skylar’s empty melted coffee cup. “You’re done studying, right? Your brain is done? Good. Let’s go get food. I’m starving, and Kim Seol-ah kept stealing my snacks during the morning lab.”
Skylar titled his head. “Kim Seol-ah? The girl from your program?”
“Yeah. The annoying one.” he barked, rolling his eyes as he stood up, waiting for Skylar to pack up his textbooks. “She has this loud laugh that gives me headache, and she keeps acting like we’re buddies just because we went to schools in the same district. She told me my stitching technique looked like a kindergarten arts and crafts project today.”
Skylar zipped his backpack, a strange and faint memory clicking in the back of his mind. Kim Seol-ah… The name sounded vaguely familiar, like a ghost from his high school roster, but he couldn’t quite place the face. High school had been such a blur of misery that he had blocked out most of his classmates’ names anyway.
“Is she nice?” Skylar asked, slinging the heavy bag over his shoulder.
“She’s a monkey menace.” Cirrus stated flatly, grabbing Skylar’s hand the exact second they stepped out of the cafe patio. He locked their fingers together tightly, entirely unbothered by the students walking past them. “But she gave me half her sandwich because she said I looked like a malnourished goat, so I didn’t throw her binder out the window.”
“Anyway, stop talking about her. Talk about me. Where are we eating?”
Skylar looked down at their joined hands, a wave of pure, unadulterated relief washing over him. The sun was warm, Cirrus was complaining about nothing, and the campus was perfectly normal.
“There’s a tteokbokki place near the back gate.” Skylar said, squeezing Cirrus’ hand back. “They give extra fish if you show a student ID.”
“Perfect,” Cirrus beamed, his bad mood instantly vanishing into thin air. “You’re paying.”
“I always pay.” Skylar sighed, but his smile was huge.
------
The tteokbokki place near the back gate was tiny, cramped, and smelled gloriously of spicy gochujang and fried batter. It was the kind of hole-in-the-wall restaurant where the walls were covered in years of sharpie graffiti from couples who had probably broken up before graduation, and the plastic stools wobbled if you sat on them too fast.
Cirrus, who usually looked like he belonged in a luxury department store brochure, sat on one of those sketchy plastic stools with his knees nearly touching his chin. He was aggressively poking a piece of fish cake with his toothpick, his pale blonde hair catching the neon light of the open sign.
“You’re eating too fast.” Skylar murmured, neatly arranging their napkins. “You’re going to get indigestion.”
“I told you, I’m starving.” Cirrus mumbled around a mouthful of rice cakes. “And Kim Seol-ah ate my lunch. Literally. She just reached over, grabbed my kimbap, and said, “Thanks for the fuel, classmate!” Who does that? She’s a thief.”
Skylar couldn’t help the small chortle that escaped his lips. He leaned his cheek against his palm, watching Cirrus chew. “Maybe she just wanted to be friends. You’re pretty unapproachable, you know. She’s probably trying to break the ice.”
“I don’t need her to break the ice. I need her to buy her own kimbap,” Cirrus grumbled, though his ears went a tiny bit pink at the word unapproachable. He picked up a hard-boiled egg from the red sauce and dropped it directly into Skylar’s bowl. “Here. Eat. You’re the one who actually needs the baseline calories—you look like a breeze could knock you over today.”
“I’m fine.” Skylar said softly, a familiar warmth spreading through his chest as he cut the egg in half.
They ate like that for a while—quietly, comfortably, in a rhythm that had taken them a long, painful year to build. In high school, eating together had always felt loaded—a tense negotiation of secrets and hidden motives. Now, it was just a Tuesday. It was just lunch.
When they finished, the sky was already starting to turn a soft, dusty violet. The spring chill was creeping back into the collar of his beige cardigan.
“We need to stop at the convenience store,” Cirrus announced as they walked out of the restaurant, his hand immediately finding Skylar’s wrist and sliding down to lock their fingers together. “I need milk bread. The sweet kind. If I don’t have sugar in my system before I look at my histology slides tonight, I’m going to pass out.”
“You just ate a giant bowl of carbs.” Skylar pointed out, but he let himself be dragged toward the bright lights of the nearest GS25 anyway.
The convenience store was quiet, the bell chiming softly as they stepped inside. The warmth of the heaters hit them immediately, bringing with it the smell of instant ramyeon and steamed buns. Cirrus immediately migrated toward the bakery aisle, his eyes scanning the shelves with the intensity of a hawk hunting prey.
Skylar stood a few paces back, his hands shoved into his pockets. He watched the back of Cirrus’ head, the way his blonde hair fell perfectly against the dark fabric of his coat.
This is real. Skylar reminded himself. This is my life now.
He took a slow step backward, letting his eyes wander toward the drink coolers, his mind drifting back to his upcoming psychology assignment. He needed to find a reasonable partner for the semester–long research project by tomorrow, or his professor was going to assign him one of the slacker students from the back row—
“Oh, sorry—”
A tall guy, rushing toward the front counter with a bottled coffee in his hand, brushed past Skylar’s shoulder. It wasn’t a hard hit, just a clumsy bump in a narrow aisle, but it was enough to make Skylar stumble half a step back.
“Ah, my bad, I wasn’t looking,” the guy said quickly, giving a brief, polite nod before running to the register.
Skylar stood frozen in the middle of the aisle.
The man’s voice was entirely ordinary. A bit deep, slightly raspy, completely unfamiliar. He didn’t look like anyone Skylar knew. He didn’t wear a navy blazer. He didn’t have styled dark hair. He was just a random university student trying to catch a bus.
But Skylar’s heart was suddenly doing that awful, heavy thud against his ribs again. His palms felt cold. The phantom scent of clean, expensive men’s cologne flashed through his nose—gone as quickly as it came, leaving behind only the sharp smell of convenience store floor cleaner.
He pressed a hand against his chest, his fingers bunching the fabric of his sweater.
Stop it, he thought, a wave of intense frustration washing over him. Stop being crazy. You’re ruining it. You’re ruining a perfect day because you can’t control your own brain.
“Skylar?”
Skylar blinked, his head snapping toward the bakery aisle.
Cirrus was standing there, holding two packages of sweet milk bread. His piercing eyes were narrowed, his gaze completely fixed on the tight grip Skylar had on his own sweater. The easy, relaxed expression Cirrus had been wearing just a minute ago vanished, replaced by a sudden, intense vigilance.
“What’s wrong?” Golden boy asked, his voice dropping an octave as he walked over. He didn’t look at the breads anymore, he just looked at Skylar’s face. “Did something happen?”
“N-no,” Skylar said quickly, forcing his fingers to loosen—a small awkward laugh forming past his lips. “No, nothing. A guy just bumped into me by accident. It startled me, that’s all.”
Cirrus didn’t look convinced. His eyes darted to the front counter where the random student was currently paying, his jaw clenching slightly. “He bumped you? Did he do it on purpose? I can—”
“Cirrus, no,” Skylar interrupted, grabbing Cirrus’ forearm before he could start a fight with an innocent stranger. “It was completely an accident. The aisle is narrow. Look, you got the bread, let’s go pay.”
Cirrus stayed still for a second, his muscled tense under Skylar’s hand, before he let out a sharp, frustrated breath. He looked down at Skylar, his expression softer but deeply troubled. “You’re really jumpy today. Are you sure you’re not sick? Or stressed about that statistics thing?”
“I’m just tired.” Skylar lied softly, giving Cirrus’ arm a reassuring squeeze. “The transition to sophomore year is harder than I thought.”
Cirrus stared at him for a long moment, as if trying to read the thoughts hidden behind Skylar’s eyes. For a split second, a flash of that old insecure high school Cirrus appeared in his eyes—the boy who always assumed Skylar was hiding something from him, the boy who constantly waited for the other shoe to drop.
But then Cirrus blinked, and the shadow passed. He dumped the milk breads onto the counter. “Fine. But you’re staying over at my place tonight. I’m making you eat this bread, and then you’re going to sleep for ten hours. No textbooks allowed.”
Skylar felt a lump form in his throat, a mixture of immense gratitude and a strange, prickling guilt. “Okay.” he whispered. “That sounds good.”
They paid and walked back out into the cool evening, the city lights reflecting off the pavement. Cirrus’ hand was warm, holding Skylar’s so tightly it almost hurt.
Everything was fine. The joke was on Skylar’s own paranoia. He was just tired. He was just overworking himself.
But as they walked toward the subway station, Skylar couldn’t shake the heavy, suffocating feeling that the walls of his safe little word were slowly beginning to crack.
------
The SNU psychology department lounge always smelled faintly of old carpeting and stale green tea. It was a miserable quiet room on the third floor, mostly populated by exhausted students typing frantically on laptops or staring blankly at the vending machines.
Skylar sat in the corner, his knees pulled up to his chest on a vinyl couch that had seen better decades. It was wednesday morning. Cirrus had successfully forced him to sleep back onto the SNU campus, that invisible weight had settled right back onto his shoulders.
“Alright, listen up.” Professor Kang’s voice echoed through his memory from the morning lecture. “If you don’t have a partner signed up on the portal by 4:00 PM today, you will be automatically paired with whoever is left. No exceptions.”
Skylar sighed, rubbing his temples. He opened his laptop, pulling up the shared spreadsheet for the experimental psychology project. Almost every single row was filled. Pairs of names were locked in, leaving only a handful of blank spaces at the very bottom.
He didn’t want a random slacker. He didn’t want to carry a group project alone. But more than anything, Skylar hated the awkward dance of asking people he didn’t know if they were free.
“Is this seat taken?”
Skylar blinked, his head snapping up.
Standing in front of the vinyl couch was a boy who looked entirely too beautiful to be real. He looked less like a university student and more like an expensive porcelain doll that had somehow stumbled into a dusty humanities building.
He was tall, with incredibly long, cream-colored hair that fell loosely around his shoulders, catching the harsh fluorescent light of the lounge. His skin was strikingly pale, and when he looked down at Skylar, his eyes were a piercing shade of pale blue. He was wearing an oversized black designer sweater that drowned his thin frame, and he held a single, pristine iPad against his chest (hahah ipad kid).
“Uh—no,” Skylar stammered, pulling his feet down from the couch quickly. “Go ahead.”
The cream-haired boy sat down. He didn’t slouch like Cirrus did; he sat perfectly straight, crossing one long leg over the other. He didn’t bother glancing at the raven haired boy, instead, he woke up his ipad with a sleek stylus, his fingers long and elegant.
An uncomfortable silence stretched between them. Skylar kept his eyes fixed on his laptop screen, but his psychological instincts—the ones he was literally paying tuition to cultivate—couldn’t help but notice the boy’s demeanor.
He was quiet. Unbelievably quiet. But it wasn’t the shy, hesitant quiet that Skylar used to have. It was a cold detached sort of silence. He looked like someone who had actively decided that the rest of the world wasn’t worth his energy.
Skylar glanced back at the spreadsheet on his screen. Time was ticking, 3:15 PM.
Just ask him, Skylar told himself, his chest tightening slightly. The worst he can say is no.
“Uhm,” Skylar cleared his throat, his voice small in the empty lounge. “Excuse me.”
The boy didn’t move his head, but his pale blue eyes shifted sideways, locking onto Skylar with an unreadable expression.
“Are you… by any chance, in Professor Kang’s Experimental Psych seminar?” Skylar asked, gripping the edge of his laptop. “The 10:00 AM one?”
The boy stared at him for a beat, long enough to make Skylar regret breathing. Then, a faint, cynical smirk played at the corner of his lips.
“Let me guess,” the boy said, his voice smooth and surprisingly sharp. “You don’t have a partner, you’re terrified of failing the baseline rubric, and you’re desperate enough to ask the weird guy with the girl’s hair.”
Skylar’s face instantly flushed a violent crimson. “No! I mean—yes, I don’t have a partner, but I didn’t think—”
“Relax. I’m joking.” the boy interrupted, his tone completely flat as he turned his ipad around. The screen was already open to the SNU student portal. “I don’t have one either. Everyone in that class talks too much, and I have zero desire to spend my weekends listening to some freshman explain what a dependent variable is.”
He typed something quickly, then slid his ipad across the vinyl couch. “I already put mine.”
Skylar blinked, completely thrown off by how fast this was moving. He looked down at the screen. In row 28, a name was neatly typed out in the partner slot: Shin Do-hyuk.
“Shin Do-hyuk?” Skylar read out loud.
“Do-hyuk is fine. Or Hyukie, if you want to pretend we’re close,” Do-hyuk said, resting his chin in his hand, looking thoroughly bored. “Though I’ve been told I look more like a “Hyukie” when I actually care about things. Right now, I don’t.”
Skylar couldn’t help the small, surprised smile that broke through his nervousness. There was something strangely refreshing about Do-hyuk’s bluntness. He wasn’t trying to be polite, but he wasn’t malicious either. He was just… entirely honest.
“I’m Skylar.” he said, typing his own ID into the sheet and handing the ipad back.
“I know.” Do-hyuk uttered, taking the device. “You’re the sophomore who sits in the third row and takes notes like your life depends on it. Your handwriting is disgustingly neat.”
I can’t tell if it’s an insult or not… Skylar rubbed the back of his neck, his cheeks still warm. “I just… like to be prepared.”
“Clearly.” Do-hyuk murmured. He locked his ipad, his pale blue eyes tracking a group of students walking past the glass doors of the lounge. For a split second, the cynical witty mask on his face cracked, revealing something deeply hollow underneath. A shadow of an old heavy exhaustion passed over his pretty features before he quickly smoothed it away.
He stood up, slinging a very expensive leather backpack over one shoulder.
“I’m going to the library to download the data sets.” Do-hyuk said, looking down at Skylar. “Give me your number. I’ll text you when I set up the shared drive.”
“Oh, right.” Skylar scrambled to pull out his phone, showing his contact QR code.
Do-hyuk scanned it, movements precise. “Don’t ignore my texts, Skylar. I hate carrying dead weight, even if you do have nice penmanship.”
“I won’t.” Skylar promised, a genuine feeling of relief washing over him. Partner problem solved.
“Good. See you on… Friday.” Do-hyuk said. He turned and walked out of the lounge, his long vanilla hair swaying slightly with every step, drawing stares from a couple of freshmen who were walking in.
Skylar let out a long breath, slumped back against the couch, and let out a soft laugh. He looked at his phone, watching the new contact drop into his list: Shin Do-hyuk (Psych partner).
For the first time in two days, the paranoia in Skylar’s chest completely loosened. He had a partner. A smart, albeit cynical one. He was making friends—or at least connections. He was a normal university student, doing normal university things.
He didn’t know that Do-hyuk’s expensive black sweater was hiding faint, faded bruises on his collarbone.
He didn’t know that Do-hyuk’s cynical detachment wasn’t a personality trait, but a survival mechanism.
And more than anything, Skylar didn’t know that by typing his name into row 28 next to Shin Do-hyuk, he had just walked straight into the center of Choi Minwoo’s crosshairs.