"Hyung, what are you doing back here?"
Seung-joon barely had time to respond before Min-jun appeared from the shadows, his hand wrapping around Seung-joon's wrist as he swiftly tugged him behind the velvet theater curtains. The space behind the stage was dimly lit, the scent of old wood and dust thick in the air. It was quiet—eerily so—save for the soft rustle of the curtains and their quickened breaths echoing in the silence.
Min-jun turned to face him, eyes wide with urgency. Before Seung-joon could speak, Min-jun pressed a gentle hand over his mouth, shaking his head slightly. The closeness made Seung-joon's heart stutter. He could feel the heat radiating from Min-jun's palm, the soft press of fingers that seemed to ask for silence without fear—only a strange mix of excitement and tenderness.
A few seconds passed like that, their breaths mingling in the quiet. Then, as softly as he had moved before, Min-jun withdrew his hand and reached into his pocket.
He placed something carefully into Seung-joon's open palm.
Seung-joon looked down. A wolf keychain—sleek, small, and instantly familiar. His heart skipped.
He recognized it immediately. It was the matching half from the set they had seen at the ocean resort—the wolf and the fox. That quiet moment in the souvenir shop flashed through his mind. He had never expected this.
His fingers instinctively closed around it.
Min-jun didn't say anything. He just offered a soft smile, the kind that curled at the corners with something unspoken—something hopeful.
And in that moment, standing in the hushed shadows of the school theater, Seung-joon felt as if he'd been handed more than just a trinket. He'd been given a promise.
***
After their eventful stay at the resort, the day finally came for the group to head back home. With bags half-packed and goodbyes lingering in the air, everyone scattered into the souvenir shop at the beach resort, eager to find little treasures to remember the trip by.
Seung-joon walked slowly through the shop, his hands tucked into his pockets. The scent of sunscreen and sea salt still clung to his clothes, and the soft hum of waves could be heard through the open door. He glanced over the shelves—rows of colorful magnets, keychains, and shell bracelets—but nothing really caught his attention.
Min-jun, on the other hand, was a whirlwind of motion.
He darted from one corner of the shop to the next, his eyes bright with excitement. Every new item seemed to spark an idea, a memory. He held up a pair of novelty sunglasses with a wide grin, then quickly set them down, moving on in his determined search for the perfect gifts.
Seung-joon watched from a few steps away, a quiet smile tugging at his lips. There was something warm and comforting about Min-jun's energy—something almost childlike. Just watching him made the moment feel lighter, as if the worries weighing on Seung-joon's heart had faded, if only for a while.
Seung-joon couldn't help but marvel at Min-jun's enthusiasm. He was practically glowing with excitement, eagerly picking out little trinkets and souvenirs to bring home. It amazed Seung-joon how much joy Min-jun could find in the smallest things—seashell-shaped magnets, cheesy postcards, tiny glass bottles filled with colored sand. Everything seemed like a treasure to him.
Watching Min-jun dart around the store, his grin wide and eyes sparkling, Seung-joon found himself completely captivated. There was something magnetic about the way Min-jun embraced the moment, so open, so unguarded. His joy was unfiltered, and it stirred a quiet warmth inside Seung-joon—a kind of peace he didn't know he'd been missing.
Is that why he likes me? Because I'm small too… Seung-joon blinked, startled by the thought.
Seriously? What kind of logic is that? he sighed inwardly, shaking his head at himself. You've definitely spent too much time around Min-jun.
It was just like Min-jun to come up with some silly, innocent theory about something so simple. And yet, the idea made Seung-joon smile. A soft chuckle slipped out before he could stop it. Somehow, without meaning to, Min-jun had colored Seung-joon's world with the same playful wonder he carried so effortlessly—and Seung-joon was beginning to realize he didn't mind it at all.
But he looks so adorable when he does that, Seung-joon thought, unable to tear his eyes away from the scene before him.
Min-jun was locked in a playful tug-of-war with a girl over a rabbit-ear hairband. His laughter rang through the aisle as he tried to place it on her head, while she, equally determined, fought to crown him instead. Eventually, she won—pressing the headband onto Min-jun's head with a triumphant grin. Min-jun stood there, cheeks flushed pink, visibly embarrassed but smiling nonetheless.
From across the display, Seung-joon watched with quiet intensity. Then, as if drawn by some invisible string, Min-jun turned—and their eyes met.
Time slowed.
In that single glance, the bustle of the store faded into silence, the colors dimming, leaving only Min-jun's face and those impossibly warm eyes. Seung-joon's heart slammed against his ribs, breath hitching. His fingers curled around the edge of the shelf for support as the floor seemed to tilt beneath him.
When he finally blinked, his gaze dropped—landing on a small keychain. A charming fox sat beside a proud-looking wolf, their tiny metal bodies gleaming under the warm shop lights. Seung-joon picked up the fox gently, as if it were something precious.
"Do you like it?"
The voice startled him. He looked up to find Min-jun standing on the other side of the aisle, his eyes wide and bright with curiosity. That familiar glimmer of sincerity in Min-jun's gaze made Seung-joon's heart skip a beat.
"It's cute," Seung-joon managed, his voice low and a little too soft. Then, without another word, he turned and walked briskly out of the store.
The moment he was out of sight, he ducked into a nearby public washroom. His legs felt unsteady beneath him as he sank onto a bench near the sink. Head in his hands, trying to steady his breathing.
Breathe… Just breathe…
"Joon-ah… Joon-ah…"
Min-jun's voice echoed down the tiled hallway, growing closer with every step. The sound bounced off the sterile bathroom walls, muffled only slightly by the hum of the overhead lights. Seung-joon's heart pounded wildly in his chest, each beat thunderous and erratic, his breaths quickening into shallow, broken gasps.
Han-ah, please don't come in. His silent plea was desperate, laced with panic as he pressed a trembling hand against the cool wall for balance. His vision blurred, the edges of the room warping under the weight of rising dread.
He barely managed to push himself into a stall, fumbling with the lock before collapsing against the door. His legs buckled beneath him, and he sank to the floor, curling into himself as the storm inside broke loose.
Hot tears spilled over, unstoppable. He buried his face in his hands, fingers clutching at his hair, trying in vain to ground himself. A quiet sob escaped his lips, then another—each one muffled, raw, and helpless.
Pain lanced through his chest like a blade, sharp and unrelenting. All he could do was try to survive it, to ride the wave until it passed.
Outside, Min-jun's footsteps grew louder.
Seung-joon squeezed his eyes shut.
Please… just go away. Not now… Not like this.
When their eyes had met, Seung-joon realized—with a heart leaden and aching—just how much he meant to Min-jun. And how deeply Min-jun must be suffering, too. The raw vulnerability in Min-jun's gaze had pierced straight through him. But the weight of that truth was crushing.
To reach Min-jun, to stand by him openly, Seung-joon would have to fight against the whole world… and even death itself. And while he might find the courage to face the world, death—death was a force beyond reason, beyond will.
Slowly, he rose from the cold tiled floor, every movement heavy, as if gravity itself had grown cruel. The numbness that had settled in his chest dulled everything else. His tears had long since dried, leaving behind a hollow void and the tight ache of restraint.
He paused, leaning against the wall, letting the chill of the tile seep into his skin. For a moment, he just breathed—quiet, uneven, shallow.
Han-ah… would you be disappointed if I fail?The question rang like a whisper inside him, soft but unbearable.
Straightening at last, he stepped out of the stall and splashed cold water on his face. He studied his reflection in the mirror—eyes red-rimmed but clear, lips pressed into a line that trembled faintly.
He forced himself to stand tall.
Then, slowly and quietly, Seung-joon walked out of the washroom, the echo of his footsteps muffled against the hallway tiles, the battle still raging in his heart.
Outside, the afternoon sun had mellowed into a warm glow, casting soft golden hues over the bus and the students milling about. Seung-joon spotted Min-jun near the bus, pacing slightly, his brow creased with worry. Panic flickered in Min-jun's eyes—until he saw Seung-joon approaching.
In an instant, his expression shifted. Relief flooded his face, softening the tension in his shoulders. His eyes lit up with unmistakable warmth.
"Joon-ah, are you okay? Why did you leave like that?" Min-jun asked as he hurried toward him, voice low and full of concern.
"I'm sorry, hyung," Seung-joon replied, managing a small, sheepish smile. "I had an upset stomach."
"You should've told me before you went," Min-jun murmured under his breath, ensuring no one else could hear. His tone held more worry than reproach.
"I'm really sorry, hyung," Seung-joon said again, his voice soft.
Without another word, Min-jun walked with him and quietly took the seat beside him. A calm silence settled between them—gentle and undemanding—as Min-jun placed his bag on his lap.
Seung-joon's gaze drifted down, catching sight of the small fox keychain hanging from the zipper of Min-jun's bag. The bright charm caught the light with a faint glint. A wave of quiet curiosity stirred in him.
What happened to the wolf?The question settled in his chest like a whisper, echoing softly in the space between them.
***
Seung-joon walked away from Min-jun with the wolf keychain clutched tightly in his hand—so tight that his knuckles turned white. The sharp edges bit into his skin, and one of the tiny metal teeth broke the surface, drawing a thin line of blood that dripped silently onto the polished floor. It bloomed like a delicate red flower, unnoticed by anyone else but stark against the pale tile.
Yet Seung-joon barely felt it.
His senses were numb, dulled by the storm of memories crashing through him. Every glance, every word, every fleeting moment he had shared with Min-jun surged forward in his mind like waves breaking against a cliff. The echo of laughter, the warmth of shared silences, the way Min-jun had looked at him in the sunset glow—all of it swirled together, too vivid and too painful to bear.
Each step he took felt heavier, as if the past were clinging to his feet, trying to pull him back. The ache in his chest wasn't just from what was, but from everything that could never be.
And still, he held the keychain as if it were the only thing that kept him from scattering into pieces.