Hye-su stood just outside the lecture hall, her eyes narrowing in mild annoyance as she watched Hae-won strike up a conversation with their professor. It had been a minor miracle to convince Hae-won to come along and confront Jin-ho after class, but now it seemed those plans had gone out the window. Hae-won was deep in discussion about some extra reading or project details, and by the looks of it, she wouldn't be finished anytime soon.
"Guess I'm doing this alone," Hye-su muttered under her breath, a sigh escaping her lips. She adjusted the strap of her bag on her shoulder and turned on her heel, heading toward the part of campus where Jin-ho usually hid away.
She knew exactly where to find him. The rooftop. It was practically Jin-ho's sanctuary, a place only a few people knew about, and fewer still dared to go. The university administration had blocked access to that area, citing safety concerns—something about the staircase being unstable. Officially, no one was allowed up there. Unofficially, it was the perfect place for someone like Jin-ho to disappear when he wanted to avoid responsibility. And, of course, Jin-ho loved finding loopholes.
As Hye-su walked across the campus, the usual bustle of students began to thin out. She moved toward the old building, its exterior worn and slightly forgotten compared to the newer facilities. The building's weathered bricks and rusted fire escapes gave it a sense of abandonment, a place no one paid attention to unless they had a specific reason.
Hye-su's footsteps echoed softly as she made her way up the narrow hallway, eventually reaching the infamous "broken" staircase. A faded sign, marked with peeling red letters, hung on the door to the stairwell: No Entry: Under Repair. For anyone else, this would have been the end of the road, a clear indicator to turn around. But Hye-su knew better.
She opened the door cautiously, slipping inside the dimly lit stairwell. The steps in front of her were cracked in places, and the handrails were rusted. The light overhead flickered sporadically, casting eerie shadows across the worn concrete. For a moment, she hesitated, the air heavy with the scent of dust and age.
"Only Jin-ho would think this place is a good hangout spot," she scoffed, muttering to herself.
The bottom few steps were intact, but after that, the stairs angled awkwardly where the building had settled over the years. It wasn't exactly safe, but Hye-su had been up here before, and she knew the trick to make it to the top. A few carefully placed steps, and a quick hop over a particularly large crack, and she was halfway up. The rest of the staircase wasn't too bad—just narrow and a little uneven—but nothing that would deter someone like Jin-ho.
She could almost see him in her mind, grinning like he always did when he found a way to outsmart the rules. To Jin-ho, the sign wasn't a warning; it was an invitation. It was his private space, far from the watchful eyes of professors, classmates, or even the campus authorities. Somewhere he could think, experiment, or simply avoid the responsibilities of everyday life.
As she reached the top, Hye-su pushed open the door that led to the rooftop. A warm breeze hit her face, and the view of the cityscape beyond the campus unfolded in front of her. The rooftop was quiet, save for the distant hum of traffic and the occasional chirp of birds.
Sure enough, sitting on the far edge of the roof, leaning against the low wall that encircled it, was Jin-ho. He had his sketchbook open in his lap, his pencil moving fluidly across the page, completely absorbed in whatever design or idea had captured his attention. His headphones were on, cutting him off from the world even more.
Hye-su shook her head, a mix of exasperation and amusement bubbling up inside her. Jin-ho hadn't changed one bit. Even when he was technically skipping class, he was still working—just not on what he was supposed to be doing.
She walked over to him, her steps soft but deliberate. Jin-ho didn't notice her approach until she was practically standing next to him. When he finally looked up, there was no surprise in his eyes. If anything, it was as though he had been expecting her all along.
"Skipping again, I see," Hye-su said, folding her arms across her chest.
Jin-ho gave her that lazy, half-smile he always did when he knew he was in trouble but didn't care.
"Wasn't feeling the lecture today."
"You're never feeling the lecture," she shot back, rolling her eyes. "You're going to have to stop doing this eventually, you know. You can't skip your way through life."
"I don't skip life. Just the boring parts," Jin-ho shrugged.
Hye-su sighed, running a hand through her hair in frustration. This was exactly what she had expected from him, and yet it still got under her skin every time.
"You know, Hae-won and I are carrying most of the work for this group project. We need you to be present for the next few meetings, or we're never going to finish on time."
Jin-ho tilted his head, his expression softening slightly.
"Alright, alright. I'll be there. No more skipping."
"You better," Hye-su warned. "Or I'm dragging you down to the classroom myself next time."
For a moment, the two of them just stood there, the tension easing slightly as the familiar rhythm of their friendship settled in again. Even though Jin-ho could be infuriating, there was something about him that kept her from ever truly staying mad. He was brilliant in his way, and she knew that, for better or worse, he'd always have her back.
But today, she was determined to scold him—just a little longer.
Hye-su sat down beside Jin-ho, her frustration melting into something more familiar—an exasperated affection for the boy who always seemed to be one step ahead in his peculiar way. Jin-ho, despite his habit of skipping class and avoiding formal meetings, wasn't the slacker everyone else thought he was. Hye-su knew better than anyone how much work he put into their projects. While his methods were unconventional, Jin-ho was far from irresponsible.
"Why do you always make things harder on yourself?" Hye-su asked, watching him sketch lazily in his notebook.
"What do you mean? I always get the work done," Jin-ho chuckled softly, still focused on his drawing.
"That's the problem," she said, shaking her head. "You always wait until the last second, but then you come through with something brilliant, and no one realizes how close we were to disaster. Hae-won and I can't keep covering for you in the meantime."
"You and Hae-won handle most of the groundwork. But without me, your work wouldn't reach its full potential," he paused for a moment, his pencil hovering above the paper.
Hye-su sighed, knowing he wasn't wrong. It wasn't just arrogance on his part—Jin-ho's "final touch," as they called it, was what set their group's projects apart from everyone else's. While she and Hae-won were meticulous in their research and planning, Jin-ho had a knack for bringing everything together in a way that was both innovative and compelling.
Most of the time, it seemed like Jin-ho wasn't paying attention at all. He'd sit through lectures half-asleep, or worse, disappear entirely, like today. But when it came time to deliver, he always came through. He didn't just do his part—he filled in the gaps that Hye-su and Hae-won didn't even realize they had missed. He wasn't lazy; he was just operating on his wavelength.
"I know you're right," Hye-su admitted, leaning back against the rooftop wall, her eyes scanning the distant skyline. "You always come through in the end. But you make us worry. It's like you enjoy the pressure of a last-minute save."
Jin-ho shrugged, finally setting his pencil down.
"It's not about the pressure. It's just… I don't like doing things the way everyone else does. I work better when I can think freely, without people breathing down my neck."
She glanced at him, studying his carefree expression. That was Jin-ho, in a nutshell—a free spirit who hated structure but still cared enough to make sure things turned out right. It was that quality, the mix of recklessness and reliability, that had made Hye-su start to care about him more than just as a friend.
There was something about Jin-ho, something that went beyond his talent and his easy-going attitude. He was thoughtful in ways people didn't always notice. Even when he was goofing off or skipping class, he was always observing, always planning, and always making sure everything worked out in the end.
That quiet dedication had sparked something in Hye-su. She'd never voiced it—not to Jin-ho, not even to Hae-won—but the feeling was there, simmering beneath the surface. She respected him, and admired him, even though his nonchalant attitude often frustrated her. He wasn't just a classmate or a teammate; he was someone she could trust. And that trust, that bond they'd built, had turned into something deeper, though she wasn't sure if Jin-ho even realized it.
As the breeze picked up, Hye-su turned her gaze back to the city skyline, lost in thought. It was hard to imagine that their friendship, their little trio, could ever be broken. They balanced each other out so well—Hye-su's discipline, Hae-won's focus, and Jin-ho's creativity. It was almost too good to be true.
"We're really lucky, you know," Hye-su said, her voice softening. "The three of us. I can't imagine us falling apart."
Jin-ho glanced over at her, raising an eyebrow.
"Why would we?"
"Exactly. We're a good team. We always manage to pull things together, even when it feels like we're on the brink of disaster," she smiled faintly.
"That's because I've got your back. And you've got mine," he grinned.
The words hung in the air between them, a casual statement on the surface but carrying a weight that neither of them fully acknowledged. Hye-su wanted to believe that nothing could change between them—that no matter what happened, they'd always have each other's backs.
But somewhere, deep down, she felt a twinge of uncertainty. Things weren't always as simple as they seemed. People changed, circumstances shifted, and sometimes the bonds that felt unbreakable could crack under the weight of something unexpected.
She pushed the thought away, standing up and dusting off her pants.
"Come on, let's head back before Hae-won comes looking for us. You promised to show up to the next meeting, right?"
"Scout's honour," Jin-ho gave her a mock salute, his grin never fading.
As they made their way back down the broken staircase, Hye-su couldn't help but glance over at him one more time. She wanted to believe that everything would stay just as it was—that their friendship was strong enough to withstand anything.
But in the back of her mind, the shadow of doubt lingered, unshakable.
Little did she know, the perfect balance they shared would soon come undone, in ways none of them could have foreseen.