Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

The apartment carried the quiet warmth of another ordinary evening. Steam curled lazily from the mugs of ginger tea cooling on the coffee table, carrying with it the familiar scent that had long ago become the smell of home. The television played softly in the background, bright colors flashing across the screen without earning anyone's attention. Yongbok sat comfortably between her parents on the couch, humming to herself as she pressed a yellow crayon against the page with all the determination only a three-year-old could possess. Every few seconds she would tilt her head, considering her masterpiece with profound seriousness before scribbling another uneven circle somewhere it probably wasn't supposed to be.

For a little while, it almost felt peaceful. Seungmin watched her instead of the television, smiling despite himself when she stuck the tip of the crayon against her chin in concentration exactly the way Minho used to chew on pens while studying.

That tiny habit. He hadn't realized she'd inherited it. His chest tightened before he could stop it.
"Appa."
"Hm?"
"What's your favorite color?"
He pretended to think very hard. "...Purple."
Yongbok gasped dramatically.... "No!"
"No?"
"You have to like yellow because I made the sun yellow."
"Oh." He nodded solemnly. "Then yellow it is."
She beamed, impossibly pleased with herself.
"There. Fixed."

Minho laughed. It wasn't loud. Just a small laugh. Soft and gentle. The kind that escaped before people remembered to hold it back. Seungmin looked at her so quickly it almost hurt his neck.
There it was. For less than a second. The laugh he had spent months trying to hear again. His heart reacted before his mind did. Like an old dog hearing its owner's footsteps after believing they'd never come home. Then the moment disappeared. Minho lowered her eyes into her tea, and the silence settled back into its familiar place between them.

"Appa." Yongbok lifted her head again. "Do married people kiss?"
The question was so innocent that neither of them answered.
"In Chan's cartoon the prince kissed the princess because they're married." Her eyes wandered between them.
"You and Eomma never kiss." Another pause. "Are you not supposed to?" And then, with complete sincerity—"Or are you not really married?"

The room stopped breathing. Even the cartoons on the screen felt strangely distant. Seungmin felt every muscle in Minho's body go rigid beside him. He couldn't bring himself to look at her. His own heartbeat had climbed somewhere into his throat.

Yongbok only waited patiently. She wasn't suspicious. She wasn't accusing them. She was simply trying to understand the world.
She's never seen us kiss.
The realization didn't hurt. It devastated. Three years. Three birthdays. Three Christmas mornings. Countless dinners. Bedtime stories. Family photographs. Not once. Not once had their daughter seen the simplest expression of love between her parents.
What had she been watching instead?
Two polite people. Two careful roommates. Two adults who smiled at her and quietly avoided each other whenever they could.
How long had that become normal?

"Of course we kiss," Minho answered gently, her smile arriving just a little too quickly. "Just... not very often in front of you." Yongbok's eyes lit up. "Really?"
"Really."
"Then do it!" The excitement in her tiny voice made both adults freeze. "Kiss Appa!" She clapped her little hands together. "I wanna see!"

Seungmin met Minho's eyes.
For months they'd mastered this strange choreography of living together without ever truly facing one another. Passing each other in hallways without brushing shoulders. Leaving coffee on the counter with a quiet "it's getting cold." Talking only about Yongbok. About groceries. About bills. About anything except themselves.

Now there was nowhere left to hide. Almost at the same time, they shifted. Yongbok scooted back against the cushions, watching with wide, excited eyes. Neither of them noticed.

Seungmin leaned forward. So did Minho. The space between them grew smaller. Not quickly. Never quickly. Every inch felt borrowed. Every breath asked a question neither of them knew how to answer. Their foreheads almost bumped together.

Years ago... Minho would've laughed before they even touched. "Still terrible at this?" Seungmin would've mumbled something defensive while blushing so hard his ears turned red. "I'm trying."
"I can see that." She would've grabbed the front of his hoodie, pulled him the last inch herself, and kissed him before he could think of another excuse.
She always kissed him first. Always. Because nineteen-year-old Seungmin had been hopelessly shy. He used to spend ten whole minutes convincing himself to hold her hand.

Minho never had that problem. She'd lace their fingers together in the middle of campus without warning. Wrap an arm around him while walking. Rest her chin on his shoulder while he pretended to study. Every single time...
And he'd blush.
Every.
Single.
Time.

The memory disappeared as quickly as it came. Reality settled between them again. Minho tilted her head slightly. They didn't smile. They didn't tease. This time.... their lips finally found each other.

Soft. Gentle. Weightless. Careful enough that it almost hurt. It wasn't a kiss born from longing. It was one built from permission. Is this still okay? Am I still allowed to touch you?

One second. Maybe two. Then they pulled apart. Not far. Just far enough to breathe. And somehow... that tiny kiss shattered years of carefully built distance. Seungmin's chest tightened. Because suddenly he remembered everything.

The rain. Oh God.... That stupid rain.
The first monsoon after they started dating.
Seungmin had insisted on walking her back to her dorm with the only one umbrella they had at that moment. Annoying him had always been Minho's favorite hobby. Not because he ever deserved it. Simply because he was impossibly easy to fluster. She deliberately stepped into the first puddle. Water splashed over both their shoes.

"Minho..."
She looked back with an innocent smile that fooled absolutely no one. "What?"
"You did that on purpose."
Two more steps. Another puddle. Another splash. This time it soaked the bottom of Seungmin's jeans. He let out the tiniest, most defeated sigh. "...Minho."
"What???"
"Please stop."
She only grinned wider. He reached for her wrist, gently tugging her back onto the dry pavement.

The moment he let go...Splash. Straight into the next puddle. Rainwater sprayed everywhere. Seungmin closed his eyes for a brief second, as though silently negotiating with the universe for patience. "Minho..." It wasn't a scolding. It never was. His complaints always came out sounding more like the soft whine of a tired puppy than actual annoyance. She adored it.

"You know," she said, rocking back on her heels, "for someone studying mathematics, you're awfully dramatic."
"I'm being dramatic because my shoes are full of water.".
By the fourth puddle... Seungmin stopped trying. He simply accepted his fate, following behind her with the expression of a man who'd realized winning this battle had never been an option.

By the time they reached the entrance to her dorm, both of them were soaked from the knees down.
She glanced back at Seungmin. There it was. That tiny crease between his brows. The one that only ever appeared whenever she'd spent the last ten minutes enthusiastically testing his patience.
It was such a rare sight. Seungmin almost never got annoyed. He'd sigh. He'd whine. He'd plead with her to stop. But actually getting mad? That simply wasn't him.

Even now, he was trying so hard to look offended. But instead, he just looked unbearably kissable. Minho smiled to herself. Well... now she wanted to tease him even more.
"What?"
"I'm deciding something."
"...Should I be worried?"
"A little."
She'd pulled him by his hoodie and kissed him right there. People walked past. Someone literally wolf-whistled. Seungmin thought he might actually die of embarrassment.

Minho looked at him for exactly half a second before bursting into laughter. Not a quiet laugh. The kind that bent her in half, one hand clutching her stomach while the other grabbing his arm to steady herself. "You are unbelievable," she managed between giggles.

He opened his mouth to argue. Nothing came out. His cheeks had already betrayed him. Even in the dim evening light, the blush crawled all the way to the tips of his ears.

Minho stared at him for a long second. Her smile softened. It always amazed her how someone could look so impossibly shy after months of dating. No matter how many times she kissed him...he still reacted like it was the first.

God, she adored him.
She reached out without thinking, patting his head and brushing rain-soaked strands of hair away from his forehead.
Turning around, she pulled the worn keyring to her dorm room from her pocket and walked toward the door.

"You still blush after every kiss." She said smiling to herself. Seungmin let out an offended little huff. "It's because of the rain."
"The rain?"
"Obviously."
The old lock clicked open. She pushed the door just enough to step inside before glancing back over her shoulder. "You coming?"

Seungmin nodded quickly, following her in. The tiny room smelled faintly of books, vanilla candles, and the rain they'd carried inside with them. He stood awkwardly near the door, shoes dripping onto the floor. His hoodie clung to his shoulders.
Minho locked the door behind him. Click. The sound seemed unusually loud. Seungmin turned and found her already looking at him.

"So..." she murmured, slowly closing the distance between them. "You were saying it was because of the rain?"
"It is."
She stopped only inches away. "So if I kiss you again..." One finger hooked loosely around the strings of his hoodie. "...you won't blush?"
He swallowed "...Probably not."
"Liar."

She knew that look. Another terrible excuse was coming. Before he could utter a single syllable she rolled her eyes, grabbed the front of his hoodie, yanked him toward her and crashed her lips against his leaving no room for arguments. Her fingers slid from the strings of his hoodie to the back of his neck, absentmindedly playing with the damp strands of his hair.

Seungmin made the tiniest sound of protest.... right before he kissed her back.
He never quite knew what to do with his hands. For a moment they hovered awkwardly between them, as though even after months of dating, he was still the shy nineteen-year-old who couldn't believe someone like Minho wanted to kiss him.
She smiled against his lips. She took one of his hands and placed it gently around her waist."There," she whispered, her voice barely louder than the rain outside. Heat rushed through his face.

Something shifted. Maybe it was the reassuring warmth of her hand guiding his. Maybe it was the way Minho looked at him, patient as always, never rushing him, never making him feel like he was too awkward or too inexperienced.

Whatever it was, the hesitation that had always followed him slowly faded. His shoulders relaxed. For once, he stopped overthinking. He stopped wondering if he was doing something wrong. He simply let himself be there with her.

And then, for the first time...he moved first.
Seungmin closed the distance between them on his own. He tilted his head slightly, maybe trying to erase every possible distance between them with a confidence that surprised even him. Minho's eyes widened for the smallest moment. She instinctively took a small step backward until her shoulders met the door behind her.

Seungmin can't stop the whimper that escapes his throat, but he pressed his mouth to Minho's again, already addicted to her taste. His tongue presses past her lips as easily as air enters their lungs. He can taste the sweet latte on Minho's lips, feel their softness, smell the familiar shampoo and hear the rain pelting against the window, setting a rhythm for their lips.

When he finally pulled away, only enough for them to breathe, Minho stared at him for a moment. Then slowly, a smile appeared. Not a teasing one this time. A proud one.
"Well..." she whispered. "Look who's finally getting brave."
They rested their foreheads against each other, grinning so hard that their cheeks began to ache.

Neither of them made any move to pull away. The rain continued tapping softly against the window. The room was quiet enough that they could hear each other breathe.

It was Seungmin who broke the silence. "...I was supposed to go back to my dorm tonight. My assignments are due tomorrow"
Minho looked up at him, amusement already dancing in her eyes. "That sounds important."
"It is." A beat of silence passed. Seungmin looked at her. The corners of his mouth betrayed him first. "...Maybe not that important."
Minho laughed. "No?"
He shook his head, smiling wider. "They've survived this long. They can survive one more night."

The rain lingered well into the night. His backpack remained untouched by the door. So did his assignments.
Instead, they spent the rest of the evening tangled together beneath a worn blanket on Minho's tiny dorm bed, talking about everything and absolutely nothing, stealing lazy kisses between conversations until neither of them could remember what they'd been talking about in the first place.

By morning, the assignments were still unfinished.

His heart lurched at the memory. Without thinking, his hand lifted. It knew exactly where it belonged. Around her waist. Pulling her in, just enough to erase the careful distance she'd put between them.

His fingers curled. Then stopped. Halfway. As though he'd only just remembered that he no longer had the right. The space between them when they stepped apart wasn't wide enough to call awkward. It was simply... empty. An absence that somehow felt heavier than touch.

"CUTEEE!" Yongbok's delighted squeal shattered the silence, making them both blink. "I knew it!"
She darted between them and wrapped her tiny arms around their waists, hugging them as tightly as she could. "My Appa and Eomma are married!" She beamed as though she'd solved the greatest mystery in history. Then, just as quickly, she skipped back to her drawing, humming to herself, the kiss already forgotten.

It hadn't left Seungmin. Not for a single second. He could still feel the warmth of her lips. Still remember the way she'd fit against him for those fleeting moments before reality rushed back in.

His chest tightened. Some memories faded with time. Across the table, Minho reached for her teacup. Her fingers brushed the ceramic. They trembled. Only once. So slightly that anyone else would've missed it.

He didn't. He still noticed everything. Every nervous breath. Every restless glance. Every tiny shake she tried so hard to hide. And somehow... that hurt more than if she'd looked him in the eye and admitted she felt something too.

He wished he didn't notice anymore.

........

"Appa?"
Yongbok held up another drawing. He forced himself back into the present again. "It's beautiful."
He lasted exactly ten more minutes. "I'll wash my hands." Neither of them questioned it. He walked calmly towards the bathroom. He closed the door behind him. The latch clicked. Such a small sound. Yet somehow, it felt like permission.

The smile he'd been forcing for Yongbok dissolved before he even realized it. His shoulders sagged beneath a weight they had carried for far too long. Slowly, he walked toward the sink. One step. Then another. His palms came down against the cool porcelain, fingers curling tightly around its edge until his knuckles turned pale.

He lowered his head, drawing in one slow breath. Then another. Neither reached his lungs. Finally... he looked up. The mirror stared back without mercy. He looked...Older. Not old. Just... older.

The brightness that had once lived so effortlessly in his eyes had long since faded into something dull, something permanently exhausted. A few silver strands caught beneath the bathroom light. Months ago, he would've plucked them out the moment he noticed. Eventually...he'd stopped bothering.

His fingertips brushed absentmindedly through them. The skin beneath his eyes looked tired.
Fine lines had settled around the corners of his smile, though he couldn't remember the last time he'd smiled enough to deserve them.

For one shamefully weak moment, a thought slipped into his mind. Maybe this is why. Maybe somewhere along the way... he had simply become harder to love.
The thought made his chest ache. He hated himself for thinking it. He hated even more that grief had made it sound believable.

He turned on the tap. Cold water rushed over his hands. He adjusted the cuffs of his sleeves.
Smoothed down wrinkles that nobody would ever notice. Anything to keep his hands busy. Anything to stop thinking. His fingers still trembled. His chest felt unbearably tight, as though someone had wrapped iron around his ribs and pulled.

He swallowed. It didn't loosen. His hand flew to his mouth just as the first broken breath escaped. He squeezed his eyes shut.No. Not here. Not now. He pressed his palm harder against his lips, desperate to keep every sound trapped behind his teeth.

It didn't matter. Grief had already found its way out. His knees gave way beneath him. He slid to the floor almost without feeling it, his back resting against the cabinet as his body folded in on itself. His forehead dropped onto his knees. His shoulders shook.Months of carefully measured words, carefully controlled expressions...finally broke free.
Enough to leave him shaking in the silence of a room far too small to hold so much grief.

He cried for the boy who believed the beautiful senior was impossibly out of his league. He cried for the girl who had somehow fallen in love with his awkward smile anyway. He cried for handmade birthday gifts made from colored paper because flowers were too expensive. For rainy evenings sharing one bowl of ramen because they could only afford one. For every time she'd called him "my puppy" with a grin so fond it made the entire campus roll their eyes. He couldn't even remember the last time she'd called him that.

His forehead remained pressed against his knees. His breathing refused to steady. His chest hurt. His throat burned. But none of it compared to the realization that had finally broken him.It had never been about the kiss. It was Yongbok. Their daughter had never known them.

She had never seen Minho stealing fries from his tray while insisting they somehow tasted better from his plate. Never seen him chasing her across campus because she'd stolen his notes just to make him smile. Never seen paper flowers carefully hidden inside textbooks. Never seen them dancing barefoot in their tiny apartment to music neither of them could actually dance to. Never seen the way Minho reached for his hand without looking because she simply trusted it would always be there. Never seen love so ordinary... that it felt as natural as breathing

She hadn't grown up watching a marriage.
She had grown up watching two gentle people trying desperately not to let the cracks show in front of the child who still drew them with matching smiles beneath a bright yellow sun.
And somehow... that hurt more than losing the marriage itself.

Eventually, he pushed himself upright, one trembling hand gripping the edge of the sink before his legs agreed to hold him again.

For a moment, the room tilted. He waited until it steadied. Then he looked up. The mirror was unkind. His eyes were swollen. His lashes clung together with tears he hadn't realized were still falling. His nose had turned pink.

He turned on the tap. Cold water splashed over his face. Once. Twice. Three times. He waited for the ache in his chest to disappear with it. But it didn't. Droplets slid slowly down the mirror, blurring his reflection.

There had been a time when this same mirror had witnessed something entirely different. Their first apartment. The bathroom had barely been large enough for one person, yet somehow Minho always insisted on brushing her teeth beside him every morning.
"Move."
"I'm already against the wall."
"You can move more."
"There is no 'MORE'.'"
"There is."
She would wedge herself into the microscopic space anyway and grin through a mouthful of toothpaste. He would pretend to sigh dramatically.

The memory slipped away before he could hold onto it. Seungmin shut off the tap. A drop of water slipped from his chin into the sink. He watched it disappear.

...
A soft knock sounded against the bathroom door. "Appa?" Yongbok's tiny voice drifted through the wood, gentle enough that it almost didn't sound like a knock at all. "It's bedtime."

Seungmin squeezed his eyes shut for one last second before forcing his voice to steady. "I'm coming, baby." A brief pause. "...Will you tell me a bedtime story?"

His chest tightened. The words were so ordinary. So innocent. "I will," he answered quietly. "Go wait in the living room for me, okay?"
"Okay!"
Her footsteps pattered away, growing quieter until the apartment fell silent once more.

Seungmin drew one final breath. Then another. He unlocked the door. The hallway was empty. He wiped at the corners of his eyes one last time before making his way toward the living room.

From the corner of his eye, he caught sight of Minho. She had quietly risen from the couch sometime while he'd been inside. Standing at the kitchen sink with her back to the room, she was absentmindedly rinsing her teacup beneath the running water.
Whether she had heard anything through the bathroom door...or whether she was simply giving him the privacy...he couldn't bring himself to ask. He looked away.

And there she was. Exactly where he'd asked her to be. Yongbok sat patiently on the couch, her little legs swinging back and forth without quite reaching the floor. Her favorite puppy plush rested snugly beneath one arm. The floppy-eared rabbit was tucked securely beneath the other. She was humming softly to herself, completely content simply waiting for him.

The moment she noticed him, her face brightened. "Appa!"She held out one hand. Without thinking, he took it. Her fingers disappeared inside his own

........... 

Yongbok's room had always been the brightest room in the apartment, even at night. Glow-in-the-dark stars clung unevenly to the ceiling, some beginning to peel at the corners after years of determined little fingers trying to reach them. Books overflowed from the lowest shelf because she insisted stories should be easy to find. A tiny pair of socks had somehow found their way beneath the bed.
Seungmin sat beside her as she climbed beneath the blanket, a rabbit tucked securely beneath one arm while a puppy remained trapped in a determined hug.
"You forgot Mrs. Rabbit's blanket," she whispered.
"She has one?"
"She gets cold."
He draped the corner of Yongbok's blanket over the rabbit with all the solemnity of someone performing a very important responsibility. She inspected his work carefully before giving a single approving nod.
"Better."

Minho stood quietly near the doorway. She couldn't remember the last time she'd simply... stayed. Somewhere along the way, bedtime had become Seungmin's responsibility without either of them ever discussing it. At first it had been because he told stories better. Then because he happened to finish work earlier. Then because Yongbok began asking specifically for Appa.

Seungmin sat at the edge of the bed with the picture book resting open across one knee. His voice had settled into the slow, steady rhythm she knew so well—a rhythm that never hurried the ending simply because sleep was approaching. He always finished the story, even if his audience had already drifted somewhere dreams could reach more easily than words.
"...and the little puppy looked at the stars one more time," he murmured, turning the pages.

The room answered only with the quiet hum of the air conditioner and the soft rustle of Yongbok's blanket as she turned onto her side, hugging the puppy plush against her chest.
Seungmin didn't stop. He kept reading for another page..Then another.

She closed Yongbok's bedroom door until only the smallest sliver of warm light remained, then made her way toward their bedroom almost on instinct. The apartment seemed different after bedtime, as though every object had finally been allowed to exhale. Toys no longer demanded attention. The television had been switched off. Even the clock in the living room seemed to tick more politely.

She slipped beneath the duvet without bothering to change. The mattress dipped beneath her weight. Cold. The other side remained untouched. She turned onto her back and stared at the ceiling. Sleep refused to come.
Instead...his voice lingered. She closed her eyes. And somewhere beneath the quiet... another voice answered.

...........

The mathematics building was notorious for making freshmen cry. Its corridors stretched endlessly beneath harsh fluorescent lights, every noticeboard overflowing with equations and symbols that looked more like another language than mathematics.
Students hurried past clutching thick textbooks and half-finished assignments, some arguing over formulas while others looked one failed exam away from abandoning their degree altogether.

Minho had only come looking for Professor Kim. As a third-year law student, she had absolutely no business wandering through the mathematics department. Numbers had never been her language. Give her a courtroom or a debate stage over differential equations any day.

She checked the room number scribbled on the corner of her notebook. "...This should be it."
Just as she reached the classroom, she slowed. The lecture had clearly ended. Yet no one was leaving. Nearly twenty freshmen still crowded around the whiteboard, notebooks open, listening with surprising attention as one student calmly worked through another problem. She recognized him immediately.
Kim Seungmin.
The freshman. The one who always looked away so quickly whenever she caught him staring that she sometimes wondered if he was trying to break his own neck. She had to bite the inside of her cheek to stop herself from laughing.
He seemed to exist perpetually at the edge of her world. Never close enough to know. Just close enough to notice.

Once, she walked into the cafeteria with a few friends only to find the last empty seats at a table occupied by several freshmen. The moment she placed her tray down, she saw Seungmin froze. He stared at his lunch with the intense concentration of a man trying to solve world hunger.

She had barely pulled out her chair when he abruptly stood. "I... uh..." He picked up his tray. "I just remembered I promised to meet someone." Without waiting for another question, Seungmin made a spectacularly unconvincing escape.

One of her friends glanced between her and the retreating freshman. "Did you threaten him or something?" She shook her head, smiling into her drink. "Not that I remember."

Another time, while helping recruit new members for the university debate society, she noticed a familiar name on the sign-up sheet.
Kim Seungmin.
He arrived right on time. Sat quietly through the introductions. Listened with complete attention. Answered exactly one question. Then vanished before anyone could ask him to introduce himself. She never saw him at another meeting.

She should've found his awkwardness strange. Instead...she found herself looking for it. Without quite realizing when it happened, she'd started wondering where Kim Seungmin might appear next.

Completely forgetting why she'd come. Her eyes followed the steady movements of his hand across the whiteboard. His sleeves were rolled neatly to his elbows, exposing forearms dusted with faint streaks of black marker. A loose strand of hair had escaped across his forehead, and every now and then he'd absentmindedly push it back without ever taking his eyes off the equation. He looked...HO-...uhmm....different.

Standing there, explaining impossible-looking equations with effortless confidence, he seemed entirely in his element. There was something undeniably attractive about watching someone become so completely absorbed in the thing they loved.

She caught herself staring....He's kind of handsome. The thought slipped into her mind so naturally that she didn't even notice it at first.
Then another followed before she could stop it.

Actually...Why is being ridiculously good at maths so attractive? Her lips twitched despite herself. How could someone be this absurdly knowledgeable... and somehow make solving differential equations look...well... a little unfairly attractive?

She imagined, for the briefest, most ridiculous second, what it would be like if he were explaining something to her with that same quiet patience. She'd probably understand mathematics for the first time in her life...
What!?
Her own thoughts seemed to catch up with her. She cleared her throat under her breath and looked away.

It lasted all of three seconds. When she glanced back.. "So," he said, tapping the marker gently against one line of the calculation, "if we substitute this value here...".

The professor passed by ,"Still tutoring, Seungmin?" With a fond shake of his head, Professor Kim headed for the door. Halfway out, he paused when he noticed Minho standing quietly in the doorway. He followed her gaze to Seungmin at the whiteboard, watched him for a brief moment, then looked back at her. A gentle and warm smile tugged at his lips. Just the quiet smile of someone who had understood something without needing it explained.
Then he continued down the corridor.

..........
One by one, the students started drifting out into the hallway, their voices gradually fading into the familiar hum of campus life. Soon...only Seungmin remained.

He erased the last equation with slow, practiced strokes, capped the marker, and gathered the stack of notebooks waiting on the front desk. Only then did he notice someone standing in the doorway. He looked up. Saw Minho. And froze.

The confidence she'd watched for the past few minutes vanished so quickly that it was almost comical. He blinked. "...Senior?"

For a brief second, he simply stood there, as though his brain had forgotten how to continue functioning. Minho felt the corner of her mouth lift before she could stop it. Interesting. Very.. interesting.

So this was the same Kim Seungmin who had effortlessly filled three whiteboards with equations no one else could understand. The empty classroom settled around them, wrapped in that peculiar silence lecture halls seemed to wear once everyone had left.

Golden afternoon sunlight spilled lazily through the tall windows, stretching across rows of empty desks. Dust floated through the warm light, and somewhere beyond the open corridor came the distant squeak of basketball shoes, followed by laughter echoing across the courtyard. Neither of them moved.

Seungmin adjusted the strap of his backpack. Then adjusted it again. "...Were you looking for Professor Kim?" he asked after what felt like an eternity. His voice was remarkably steady. Anyone listening would've thought he was perfectly composed.

Only his hands betrayed him. His fingers tightened ever so slightly around the notebook tucked against his chest, leaving faint creases along the corners. Minho noticed. She was beginning to think she noticed everything when it came to him.

"I was." She tilted her head ever so slightly. "But then I found a classroom full of students who apparently trust a freshman more than their own teaching assistant."

A faint blush climbed the back of his neck. He looked as though he wanted to disappear into the floor. Minho's eyes wandered toward the whiteboard. Even after being erased, pale traces of equations still lingered beneath the afternoon light like ghosts refusing to leave.

She folded her arms loosely. Neither of them seemed particularly eager to be the first one to leave. Seungmin's gaze drifted somewhere near her shoulder, as though meeting her eyes had suddenly become an impossible task. Minho watched him for another moment.

"You know...". Seungmin looked up immediately. "...Yes?" She tilted her head, pretending to study him. "...Most people who have a crush eventually introduce themselves."

Time stopped. Absolutely stopped. His brain seemed to abandon every function at once. Seungmin's eyes widened. "...Cr..." He blinked. "...Crush?"

Minho bit the inside of her cheek. Got you. "So..." She raised an eyebrow. A tiny smile tugged at her lips. "...I was right."

Color exploded across his face. It started at his ears. Then climbed his neck. Then reached his cheeks until he looked as though someone had replaced his blood with strawberry syrup.

His lips parted. Closed. Opened again. Nothing. Absolutely nothing. "...I..." He glanced helplessly toward the whiteboard. Then toward the windows. Then at the floor. As though a complete sentence might be hiding somewhere inside the classroom. But nothing came inside his mind. Not a single coherent thought.
Minho should have rescued him. Instead... she found herself smiling.

For several long seconds... neither of them spoke. Seungmin still looked as though the universe had quietly collapsed around him.

"...I'm sorry." His voice was barely above a whisper. Minho blinked.
"What???"
"I shouldn't have kept staring." His gaze immediately dropped to the floor. "It was rude. I know I probably made you uncomfortable."
"... Seungmin?"
"I really did try to stop." His words came faster now, tumbling over one another before he could catch them. "Every morning I'd tell myself I'd just walk past normally, and then I'd see you and..." He let out a defeated little breath, almost laughing at himself. "...and I'd forget." He drew in a small breath "...I'm really sorry, Senior."

Minho simply looked at him. One second. Two. Three. Then one very eloquent thought crossed her mind.......What the fuck is wrong with this boy?
She had expected denial. Excuses. Maybe awkward flirting. Not...this. He stood there looking like a puppy that had accidentally chewed the legs off someone's favorite chair and was fully prepared to get scolded.

His shoulders had curled in ever so slightly, and those absurdly expressive eyes refused to look anywhere near hers, as though he genuinely believed she'd be angry.
An unfamiliar urge bubbled inside her chest. It was the overwhelming, almost ridiculous desire to reach over...and squish his cheeks. Hard. Just to see if he'd squeak.

Lee Minho. Do not assault the freshman! She looked away. Pressed her lips together. Counted to three. But it didn't help. Ridiculous. Absolutely... ridiculously ‘adorable’.
Before she could stop herself, a laugh escaped. Seungmin looked up immediately. Confusion spread across his face.
and She took two steps toward him before she could overthink it. Without warning...she flicked his forehead. "Pabo!!" His eyebrows lifted. "I wasn't scolding you."

"I was..." She looked at him. He looked back. Those huge, round eyes were still filled with nothing but genuine remorse.
Oh, come on. Why are you looking at me like that? Stop it. You're making it worse. He tilted his head ever so slightly. Like an actual puppy....He's doing it on purpose. He has to be.

She sighed dramatically, rubbing both hands over her face. She then pointed a finger at him as though this entire situation was somehow his fault. "You're making this unnecessarily difficult. I was just teasing you."
"...You were?" His eyebrows knitted together "...You're not angry? ...You were really just teasing me?"

Minho stared at him. Actually... she glared. For a long, utterly speechless moment. "For heaven's sake.. Seungmin." Her voice rose just enough to betray her disbelief. "Why on earth would I be angry with you?"

She pointed at him with exaggerated accusation. "Do you seriously think I stood in that doorway for nearly twenty minutes..." She gestured toward the classroom behind him. "...watching you teach an entire lecture.....just so I could tell you to stop having a crush on me?"

Her shoulders slumped. Another sigh escaped her lips. It had to be the hundredth one she'd let out that afternoon. If this had been anyone else... she would've rolled her eyes, wished them a pleasant day, and walked straight out of the classroom five minutes ago.

He considered her question with complete sincerity and said "...I ....kind of thought that, yes."
Minho simply stared at him. Then, completely against her will, a laugh burst out of her. Bright and Unrestrained.
A helpless laugh escaped him too. Quiet at first. Then louder. The sound echoed softly against the walls before slowly fading into comfortable silence again.

Minho smiled at him. He smiled back. Still a little shy. Still impossibly adorable. She shook her head, letting out one last amused sigh. "You're unbelievable."

She took a slow step toward him. Then another. The distance between them quietly disappeared. For the first time since they'd started talking, Seungmin forgot to step back. He simply stood there. She noticed the way he unconsciously drew in a slow breath.

"So..." Her voice softened. "If you really like someone..." His full attention settled on her. "...staring at them from the other side of campus isn't exactly the best strategy." He nodded almost automatically.

"Stop staring..." She reached up before she could think better of it. Both her hands gently caught his cheeks. Soft. Warm. She gave them the tiniest squish. "...and actually do something about it."
Seungmin froze. His eyes became impossibly round....He's even cuter up close. She let go before she did something even more embarrassing.

Taking a small step backward, she tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, smiling despite herself."And, Seungmin..."
"...Mm-hm?"
A teasing smile tugged at the corner of her lips. "From now on..." She pointed at him "...call me Minho."

"'Senior!!...'" she mimicked, rolling her eyes and lowering her voice into an imitation that sounded suspiciously like him. "'Yes, Senior. Sorry, Senior. Thank you, Senior.'" She scrunched her nose. "You're making me feel ancient."

She turned toward the doorway. With one last smile, Minho turned and walked out of the classroom. A grin tugged at the corners of her mouth. She leaned back just enough to poke her head around the doorway again.
He hadn't moved. Not even an inch. He was still standing exactly where she'd left him, staring after her as though his soul had quietly vacated his body.

She laughed under her breath. Gave him a small wave. "See you around, Seungmin." Then she disappeared into the golden afternoon sunlight beyond the classroom door. Only after she was gone did Seungmin remember he was supposed to know how to breathe.

Minho opened her eyes. Darkness. Not the warm gold of an autumn afternoon. Just the quiet darkness of their bedroom.
The ceiling slowly came into focus above her. For a few disorienting seconds, she couldn't remember where she was. Then she heard it.

Seungmin's voice. Soft. Muffled through the bedroom door that hadn't been closed all the way. "...And the little puppy finally found a place to rest beneath the old tree." She remained perfectly still. Listening. "...Goodnight, sunshine." His voice had become quieter. Gentler. A kiss pressed against Yongbok's forehead. Then silence.

The bedroom door creaked open. Slow footsteps crossed the hallway. Closer. Closer. Minho instinctively closed her eyes again. Not because she wanted to pretend she was asleep. Because somehow... she wasn't ready to meet his eyes after remembering the boy who had once looked at her as though she hung the moon.

The door opened with the softest click. He didn't come in immediately. He paused. She knew why. He was checking if she'd fallen asleep.

The room remained wrapped in silence, broken only by the quiet hum of the air conditioner. Then... the mattress dipped. Not beside her. Near the foot of the bed.
She heard the familiar clink of metal. His watch. Then another. His wedding ring. Placed carefully beside his phone on the wooden nightstand.

For years... that tiny sound had meant one simple thing. He's home.
Now... it only meant he was getting ready to sleep.

Another quiet pause. Then something warm settled gently over her shoulders. The blanket. She hadn't even realized she'd fallen asleep without pulling it over herself. His fingers tucked one corner beneath her arm.
The movement lasted only a second. Then they were gone. "Goodnight..." The whisper barely disturbed the silence. It wasn't meant to wake her. Wasn't meant to be answered. Just... a habit that love had refused to forget.

The mattress shifted again. He climbed into bed carefully. Almost cautiously. Trying not to move it too much. Trying not to disturb her. He always moved like that now. As though he were afraid of taking up more space than he was allowed.

Only after several quiet moments did his breathing begin to slow. Steady. Even. Sleep found him far more easily than it ever found her.
Only then... Minho opened her eyes. Moonlight spilled through the curtains, washing the room in pale silver.

She turned her head. And her chest tightened. Seungmin slept exactly where he always did now. Curled toward the very edge of the mattress. One arm tucked beneath his pillow. His back facing her. There was enough space between them for another person to lie down.

Once...there hadn't even been enough room for a pillow. She stared at the empty stretch of mattress separating them.
It hadn't appeared overnight. It had been built little by little. A few centimeters at a time. One difficult conversation. One exhausted evening. One silent night. Until distance had quietly become habit.

Once... keeping Seungmin on his own side of the bed had been impossible. He slept like the rules of personal space had simply never been explained to him.
Every morning she'd wake up with one of his arms wrapped securely around her waist. Half the blanket stolen. Her pillow somehow underneath his head instead of hers.

She'd shove him away with sleepy complaints. "Kim Seungmin... you're impossible." He'd only mumble something completely unintelligible into her shoulder. Pull her even closer. And whisper, "...Five more minutes."
She'd complain. Every single morning. She'd pretend she hated it. She never really had.

Tonight... not even the tips of their fingers touched. Her gaze lingered on the narrow slope of his shoulders.
She couldn't remember the night he'd stopped reaching for her. That frightened her. Because it meant there had been a last time. A final night he'd unconsciously pulled her close in his sleep... never knowing it would be the last.

Her eyes burned. She blinked once. Twice. The tears still slipped free anyway. Silent and Warm. Tracing slow paths across her temples before disappearing into her hair.

She didn't wipe them away.She simply lay there...staring at the quiet distance between them. At the man who still remembered every tiny habit she'd forgotten herself.
And somehow...that hurt more than if he'd stopped caring at all.