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Monday morning, Jeongwoo was already regretting agreeing to come in early.
The campus was pretty dead at seven-thirty. Most of the people wandering in looked like they were running on pure spite and whatever caffeine they could grab at the gate. Jeongwoo had gotten there with twenty minutes to spare, sitting on one of the concrete benches outside their building, holding a plastic bottle of sweet black coffee that was mostly ice by now.
A heavy canvas bag slammed down onto the wood next to him, followed immediately by Woongki, who dropped his head straight onto Jeongwoo’s shoulder with a long, drawn-out exhale.
“I’m dead,” Woongki mumbled into his jacket. “Tell the professor I died on the way.”
Jeongwoo didn’t move his shoulder, just took another sip of his coffee. “You just walked up three flights of stairs.”
“That’s three too many.” Woongki lifted his head slightly, squinting at the morning sun. “Why are we like this? Why did we pick an eight AM?”
“You picked it,” Jeongwoo pointed out. “You said you wanted your afternoons free.”
“Past me is an idiot.” Woongki slumped back, rubbing his eyes. “Did you bring anything to eat?”
“Just this.” Jeongwoo held up a half-eaten sleeve of convenience store bread.
Woongki didn’t even ask—he just leaned over, bit off a corner, and chewed thoughtfully. “Too dry. Two out of ten.”
“Then don’t eat it,” Jeongwoo laughed, pulling it back.
“I’m starving, I have to.”
Sitting like this wasn’t something they talked about anymore. Over the last few months, it had just become the default. If one of them was around, the other usually was too.
By eight o'clock, they had dragged themselves inside and into the back row of the lecture hall. They made it through about twenty minutes of the lecture before Woongki nudged his knee against Jeongwoo’s under the row of desks.
“Hey.”
Jeongwoo kept his eyes on the slide presentation. “What?”
“I’m gonna fall asleep.”
“Drink your water.”
“Water doesn’t fix a broken soul, Jeongwoo.”
“You stayed up until three playing video games, didn’t you?”
Woongki went quiet for a second, staring straight ahead. “...Maybe.”
Jeongwoo shook his head, holding back a grin. A few minutes later, he noticed Woongki wasn’t even bothering to fake taking notes anymore; he was just drawing little, nonsensical geometric shapes in the margin of his notebook grid. Jeongwoo leaned over slightly, picked up his own pen, and scribbled a tiny, angry face inside one of Woongki’s boxes.
Woongki kicked his foot lightly under the desk. Jeongwoo just smirked.
By Tuesday, Woongki had completely forgotten about his Monday breakdown.
He showed up right outside the lecture hall carrying two iced drinks, shoving a cup into Jeongwoo’s hand before he could even put his bag down.
“What’s this?” Jeongwoo asked, looking down at the condensation pooling on the plastic lid.
“That green tea stuff you got last week,” Woongki said, already taking a sip of his own. “You said it wasn’t too sweet, right?”
“Yeah.” Jeongwoo blinked, holding the cold cup. “You bought this for me?”
“No, I bought it for the trash can, obviously.” Woongki rolled his eyes, turning to walk into the classroom. “Just drink it.”
Jeongwoo stood there for a second longer than he meant to, looking at the cup, then at the back of Woongki’s messy hair as he went to find two seats near the middle.
“Thanks,” Jeongwoo said, sitting down beside him.
Woongki waved a hand dismissively, his eyes fixed on his phone screen. “Yeah, yeah. Don’t make a whole thing out of it.”
“I’m literally just saying thank you.”
“Whatever you say, Jeongwoo.”
Wednesday was lunch on the bench near the library, sharing a cheap box of fried chicken while Woongki complained about his group project members who hadn't opened the shared Google Doc once.
By Thursday afternoon, Jeongwoo was sitting by himself on the third floor of the library trying to finish a draft when his phone buzzed on the wooden table.
Woongki: u in the lib?
Jeongwoo: yeah. 3rd floor.
Woongki: coming
Jeongwoo looked at the screen. He started typing, I’m almost done, you don’t have to come up here, then paused. He deleted the line, typed a short k, and set the phone face down.
Ten minutes later, Woongki slid into the chair directly across from him, setting down a pair of wired earphones and his tablet. He didn't open a single study app.
“You’re not studying,” Jeongwoo whispered across the table.
“I am expanding my mind.”
Jeongwoo leaned over to look at the screen. “Those are dog rescue videos.”
“It’s emotional enrichment.” Woongki didn’t even look up, tapping his finger against the glass. “Look at this one. His name is Barnaby.”
Jeongwoo looked from the phone up to Woongki’s face—the way his fringe was falling slightly into his eyes, the faint dark circles under his lower lashes, the quiet concentration over something entirely pointless.
“He’s cute,” Jeongwoo murmured.
Woongki glanced up, catching Jeongwoo’s eye for a second before looking back down at his screen. “Yeah. He is.”
Neither of them said anything else for the next hour. Jeongwoo finished his paper, and Woongki stayed right there, quietly scrolling.
Friday felt different because there were no classes after noon.
Instead of going straight to the bus, they just walked down the strip outside the back gate, grabbing skewers from a street vendor and sitting on the concrete edge of the empty bleachers near the athletic field. The afternoon heat was starting to die down, leaving a cool, quiet breeze.
Woongki leaned back on his elbows, stretching his legs out. “I love Fridays so much.”
“Because of no class?”
“Because tomorrow I can sleep until noon and nobody can yell at me for it.” Woongki turned his head toward him. “What are you doing tomorrow?”
“Nothing really,” Jeongwoo said, watching a couple of guys kicking a soccer ball on the far end of the grass. “Probably just laundry. House stuff.”
“Boring.”
“Not all of us have chaotic schedules, Woongki.”
“You need more drama in your life, Jeongwoo. You’re too stable.”
Jeongwoo laughed softly. “I like stable.”
They stayed there until the sun started setting, turning the sky a dusty pink above the bleachers. When they finally walked toward the main road to catch their separate buses, Jeongwoo’s phone rang in his pocket before he’d even cleared the main gate.
He answered it, pulling the phone to his ear. “Did you forget something?”
“No,” Woongki’s voice came through, muffled by the sound of passing cars. “Are you on the bus yet?”
“No, just walking to the stop. Why?”
“Nothing. I’m just bored.”
Jeongwoo smiled, stepping off the curb as the light changed. “You were with me five minutes ago.”
“So? The bus is taking forever.” A pause over the line. “Just talk to me until it gets here.”
“Okay,” Jeongwoo said quietly. “What do you want to talk about?”
“I don’t know. Anything.”
They stayed on the phone through the bus ride, through Jeongwoo walking up the stairs to his apartment, right up until he was standing in his kitchen putting his keys on the counter.
Saturday night rolled around, they were on the phone again.
Jeongwoo was lying in bed in the dark, his phone resting on the pillow next to his ear while Woongki rambled softly about some drama he was watching.
“It doesn’t even make sense,” Woongki was saying, his voice thick with sleep. “Why would she go back to that house? It’s obviously haunted.”
“Because it’s a show, Woongki,” Jeongwoo murmured into his pillow.
“Still. Stupid writing.”
Jeongwoo watched the glowing numbers on his desk clock flip from 11:58 PM to 11:59 PM.
“Hey,” Jeongwoo said softly.
“Mm?”
“Are you falling asleep?”
“No... I’m awake...”
The clock flipped quietly to 12:00 AM. Sunday, September 6.
There was a tiny rustle of bed sheets over the line.
“Happy birthday,” Woongki said. His voice was lower now, a little clearer, like he had been deliberately holding back his sleep just to catch the minute change.
Jeongwoo stayed still, staring at the ceiling in the quiet dark. “You stayed up for that?”
“Of course I stayed up, idiot,” Woongki mumbled, his tone immediately turning defensive and sleepy again. “I wasn’t gonna miss midnight. I’ve been tracking it all week.”
Jeongwoo let out a quiet breath, resting his forearm over his eyes. “Thanks, Woongki.”
“Yeah... you better let me buy you food tomorrow.”
“It’s my birthday, I get to pick, right?”
“I’m paying, so I get a vote.” Woongki let out a faint sigh, his breathing already evening out. “See you tomorrow, Jeongwoo.”
“Goodnight,” Jeongwoo whispered.
He didn't hang up. He left the call running, listening to the soft static of Woongki sleeping on the other end until he eventually drifted off himself.
Sunday afternoon was warm and lazy.
They met up near the station around two. Woongki was wearing an oversized knit sweater, carrying a small, plain paper bag that he shoved directly against Jeongwoo’s stomach the second they met.
“What’s this?” Jeongwoo asked, catching the bag.
“A gift. Don’t open it now, it’s embarrassing.”
Jeongwoo looked inside anyway. Nestled at the bottom was a small, high-quality leather keychain shaped like a golden retriever puppy, along with a gift card to the coffee shop right outside their campus.
“I thought it looked like you,” Woongki grumbled, crossing his arms and looking off toward the street. “Always trailing around with those big eyes, looking entirely too happy for an eight-thirty in the morning. Like a hyperactive puppy.”
Jeongwoo blinked, pulling the keychain out to hold it up by its small metal ring. His face broke into a broad, helpless grin. “A puppy?”
“Don’t make that face,” Woongki warned, pointing an accusing finger. “That’s the exact face the keychain is making.”
“I love it,” Jeongwoo said, slipping his house key onto the ring immediately and putting it in his pocket. “I’m putting it on my keys right now.”
Woongki’s cheeks flushed a faint pink, but he shoved his hands into his sweater pockets and turned toward the avenue. “Whatever. Let’s go get noodles before I change my mind and take it back.”
They spent the entire afternoon wandering around. They got noodles, argued over whether to get ice cream when it started drizzling, and ended up sitting on a bench in the park under a wide awning, watching the rain hit the pavement.
Woongki leaned back against the bench, looking out at the wet trees. “I hate rainy days.”
“You hate every day,” Jeongwoo reminded him softly.
“Not true.”
“You literally complained about every passing day.”
Woongki turned his head to glare at him. “Monday is early. Tuesday is long. Wednesday is boring. Thursday is a scam. Friday is okay, but it’s still a weekday.”
Jeongwoo laughed, leaning back against the bench alongside him. “So you only like Saturday and Sunday?”
“Basically.” Woongki shifted, pulling his knees up slightly. “What about you? What’s your favorite day?”
Jeongwoo looked at the rain dripping off the edge of the awning. He thought about seeing Woongki's face on Monday morning, the green tea on Tuesday, the peaceful lunch on Wednesday, the library silence on Thursday, the phone call on Friday, and the quiet midnight wish at the start of today.
“I don’t really care about the day,” Jeongwoo said.
Woongki blinked. “What does that mean?”
Jeongwoo turned his head to look at him. His tone was casual, completely stripped of drama, but his eyes were steady.
“I just like whenever you’re around.”
Woongki froze.
He didn't yell or gasp. He just sat there, his eyes widening slightly as the words sank in. Slowly, a deep, unmistakable flush started at the base of his neck, spreading all the way up to his cheeks and the tips of his ears.
He quickly pulled his sweater collar up over his chin, looking away toward the grass.
“...You’re so weird,” Woongki muttered, his voice completely muffled by the wool.
“I’m just answering your question.”
Woongki kept his face hidden, but his eyes darted back to Jeongwoo for a fraction of a second. “You can’t just say stuff like that out of nowhere.”
“Why not?”
“Because!” Woongki let out a frustrated sigh, lowering his sweater a tiny bit. “It’s embarrassing.”
“For who?”
“For me!”
Jeongwoo smiled, resting his hands on his lap. “Do you like spending time with me or not?”
Woongki went quiet. The rain continued to fall softly outside the awning, filling the silence between them.
After a long minute, Woongki reached out from his sleeve, his fingers nervously brushing against the bench before lightly touching Jeongwoo’s wrist. He didn't pull away.
“Obviously I do,” Woongki mumbled, staring stubbornly at his own shoes. “I wouldn’t have spent my whole week with you if I didn’t.”
“So...” He slowly added, his voice dropping into a quiet, hesitant murmur that barely carried over the rain. “You like me?”
Jeongwoo’s heart did a strange, happy flip in his chest. He didn't look away, nor did he try to laugh it off.
“Yeah,” Jeongwoo said softly. “I really do.”
Woongki stared at him for a long beat, as if double-checking that Jeongwoo wasn't going to pull back. Then, slowly, a small, shy smile broke through Woongki’s usual scowl.
He shifted his hand, letting his fingers slowly slide down to lace through Jeongwoo's. His hand was cool from the afternoon breeze, but his grip was firm and steady.
“Good,” Woongki mumbled, looking back out at the park with a tiny, satisfied tilt of his head. “Because I stayed up until midnight for you, and I’m pretty sure I like you too.”
Jeongwoo looked down at their joined hands, feeling an overwhelming, bright warmth bloom through his entire chest. He squeezed Woongki’s hand tightly, leaning his shoulder gently against Woongki’s.
“Happy birthday to me, then,” Jeongwoo whispered.
Woongki let out a faint, fond sigh, leaning his weight right back against Jeongwoo’s shoulder. “Yeah. Happy birthday, Jeongwoo.”