Min-jun hurried down the bustling 11th-grade corridor, the cacophony of laughter, shuffling feet, and ringing lockers filling his ears as he made his way to his classroom. The air felt thick with the weight of looming final exams, a tension so palpable it seemed to press against his chest like a physical force. He cast a fleeting glance into Seung-joon's classroom as he passed, his breath catching momentarily when he caught sight of him. The sight was brief yet burned into his mind like a snapshot, an anchor amid the storm of his fraying nerves.
The pressure of the exams had consumed him, burying him under piles of textbooks and scrawled notes. Nights became battlegrounds of restless sleep, where vivid nightmares of test questions and unsettling exam scenarios played like an endless loop. His days blurred together in a haze of relentless study, his heart pounding with the urgency of time slipping through his fingers. And yet, even as the walls of his world closed in, his longing to see Seung-joon shone like a solitary beam of light piercing the gloom.
But reaching Seung-joon was no simple task—it felt like navigating a minefield. Min-jun's chest tightened as he pressed himself against the cold, graffiti-marked wall of the corridor, his heart thundering as he peered out cautiously. On the other side of the door, Seung-joon and his towering brothers strolled past, the twins' looming presence an impenetrable barrier. Every plan Min-jun concocted to reach Seung-joon seemed doomed to fail, thwarted by the twins' uncanny ability to appear just when the moment seemed perfect. Frustration gnawed at him, the cruel irony of being so close yet so far eating away at his resolve.
Initially, he'd toyed with the idea of confronting the twins head-on, his fists clenched as he imagined standing his ground. But Min-jun wasn't naive. He knew the fallout would ripple far beyond him, potentially disrupting the fragile balance of Seung-joon's world. The thought of causing Seung-joon distress outweighed his frustration, compelling him to bury his pride and settle for quiet observation. He consoled himself with the knowledge that their previous altercation had gone unnoticed by their peers—at least his struggle wasn't fuel for the ever-hungry school rumor mill. For now, all he could do was watch from the shadows and bear the ache in his chest.
Seung-joon, perceptive as ever, seemed to sense his silent struggle. Their eyes would meet across the room, and in those fleeting moments, a spark of understanding passed between them. Seung-joon's knowing glances, quick and discreet, sent Min-jun's heart into a frenzy, his breath hitching as he clung to those stolen seconds of connection. Each glance deepened his feelings, making him hyperaware of the strange, intricate dynamic between the three brothers that surrounded Seung-joon like an unspoken riddle.
The twins, with their six-foot frames and cool, aloof demeanor, seemed untouchable, their mere presence enough to keep most people at bay. Min-jun marveled at how Seung-joon, small and unassuming at barely five feet tall, exuded a warmth that melted through their icy façade. Following them from a distance, Min-jun observed layers to the twins' enigmatic personalities that few others ever glimpsed. He saw them laugh—a rich, rare sound that filled the air like music in an empty auditorium—and in that moment, they seemed less like the "handsome devils" their reputation suggested and more like ordinary boys with hidden depths.
The sight that stayed with him most, though, was the way they treated Seung-joon when no one else was watching. One twin's hand gently ruffled Seung-joon's hair while the other draped a protective arm around his shoulders. Seung-joon's smile lit up the room, wide and unguarded, revealing dimples that Min-jun hadn't noticed before. It was a smile that sent a sharp pang of jealousy through Min-jun's chest.
Why haven't you ever smiled at me like that? The thought clawed at him as he watched them pinch Seung-joon's cheeks with playful affection. The bittersweet truth settled heavy in his heart: If they make him that happy, maybe it's better if I stay away.
Yet even as he resolved to keep his distance, his heart betrayed him, drawn inexorably to Seung-joon. There was something magnetic about the way the light danced across Seung-joon's features, how his delicate lips curved when he spoke, and the quiet depth in his gaze. Every detail was a thread pulling Min-jun closer, ensnaring him in emotions he couldn't escape.
The rare moments they managed to slip away from the twins became Min-jun's sanctuary. One afternoon, in the dim backstage of the school auditorium, he finally seized another of these precious moments. He pulled Seung-joon behind the heavy theater curtains, his heart hammering with a mix of fear and exhilaration.
"Hyung, what are you doing back here?" Seung-joon whispered, wide-eyed. Min-jun pressed a finger to his lips, silently urging him to stay quiet. He reached into his pocket and placed a small object in Seung-joon's palm, his fingers lingering briefly against Seung-joon's. It was half of a wolf-and-fox keychain set they'd seen at the souvenir shop during the school trip to the beach resort.
"They said these keep nightmares away," Min-jun murmured, his voice barely audible over the soft rustle of the curtain. His hand moved almost instinctively, brushing through Seung-joon's hair in a gesture so tender it startled even him. When Seung-joon smiled, his eyes lighting up with unspoken gratitude, warmth spread through Min-jun like sunlight breaking through storm clouds.
"Thank you, hyung," Seung-joon whispered, his voice sincere. "And please, don't let my brothers bother you."
Min-jun managed a sad smile. "It's alright. I'd probably act the same way if I had a brother like you." His words tasted bittersweet, a pale shadow of his true feelings. He longed to brush his fingers against Seung-joon's cheek but settled for another gentle touch of his hair, a gesture that felt both intimate and restrained.
"Go before they find us," Min-jun said softly. "I'd like to stay alive a little longer."
Seung-joon giggled. "Oh, did Tae-min hyung threaten to bury you alive?"
Min-jun blinked. "How did you know?"
"He loves that line," Seung-joon said, suppressing a laughter. Min-jun couldn't help but chuckle, the sound bittersweet in the quiet space between them.
As Seung-joon slipped away, Min-jun's gaze lingered on his retreating form, each step pulling at his heartstrings. The final exams loomed closer, a relentless countdown ticking away. Soon, these fleeting moments would become memories. Yet, in his heart, Min-jun clung to the promise he silently made: Joon-ah, bear with me. I won't cause trouble for you.
And as he turned to leave the auditorium, the emptiness in the room mirrored the ache growing inside him.