Min-Seok watched as Ji-Hoon scooped Sana into his arms with the care of someone holding his most precious thing in the world. Without a word, Ji-Hoon disappeared down the tree-lined pathway, his figure soon swallowed by the quiet campus greenery.
Letting out a long sigh, Min-Seok ran a hand through his hair. "I'm going to need a pay for all this emotional labour," he muttered to himself. He stood there not knowing where to start, when the faint sound of muffled crying nearby drew his attention.
Turning toward a tall ginkgo tree not far from the path, he spotted a figure huddled behind its broad trunk. He debated a little before going there. Min-Seok approached with deliberate steps, the soles of his sneakers crunching against the crisp leaves. As he drew closer, the sight of In-a crouched on the ground came into focus. Her shoulders trembled as she buried her face in her arms, and though her sobs were quiet, they were unmistakable.
For a moment, he paused. Did he really want to get involved in this? He wasn't exactly the emotional support type – except when it comes to Ji-Hoon – and dealing with a crying woman was not something he would be happy to experiment with. Ji-Hoon's occasional brooding was one thing, but this? This was different.
Still, he couldn't walk away. With a resigned sigh, he pulled a neatly folded handkerchief from his pocket.
"Here," he said holding it out. "Take this before someone thinks I'm bullying you."
In-a flinched at his sudden presence but eventually glanced up. Her red-rimmed eyes and tear-streaked cheeks made him inwardly wince – what had he gotten himself into? Slowly, she reached out and took the handkerchief, her fingers brushing against his for just a second before she pulled back.
"Thank you," she murmured, her voice barely audible. She dabbed at her eyes carefully, then – to his horror – blew her nose into the handkerchief.
Min-Seok's nose crinkled in disgust. "Okay, I wasn't expecting you to actually use it like that."
A ghost smile flickered across her lips, but it disappeared as quickly as it came. 'Thank you," she murmured, her voice hoarse as she stood up. Her gaze remained averted, and she shifted her weight awkwardly from one foot to the other.
He waved a hand dismissively. "Don't mention it. And for the record, you owe me a new handkerchief."
The silence that followed was heavy, punctuated by the rustling of leaves in the breeze. In-a fidgeted with her sleeves, her discomfort palpable. Min-Seok, never one to enjoy awkward moments, decided to break the stalemate.
"Follow me," he said suddenly, turning on his heel without waiting for her response.
"Huh? Where?" she asked, startled.
"Just come on," he replied over his shoulder, his tone leaving no room for argument.
In-a hesitated, glancing toward the path where Ji-Hoon had disappeared with Sana. Letting out a long sigh, she finally trailed after him, her steps tentative.
As they walked, the faint hum of campus life filtered in from the distance – the chatter of students near the cafeteria, the distant sound of laughter from a nearby courtyard. Despite being surrounded by life, the little corner of campus felt isolated, like a pocket of quiet set aside for moments like this.
"Honestly," she muttered under her breath as she followed, "this was supposed to just be a lunch."
…
The café Min-Seok chose was quiet, tucked into a small street just off campus. It wasn't trendy or crowded – just a place where people went to disappear for a little while. He led In-a to a corner table by the window, where the light streaming in was soft, muted by the late afternoon clouds.
In-a hesitated as she slid into her seat, unsure if this was a good idea. The weight of everything unsaid pressed heavily on her chest, threatening to smother her.
Min-Seok broke the silence first. "Anything you want to order? The cake's good here. Sweet but not overly sugary. You seem like a cake person."
His casual tone startled her. For a moment, she thought he might laugh or brush everything aside. But when she looked at him, his gaze steady – not teasing, not impatient, just…waiting.
"I…I'm fine with whatever," she mumbled.
He nodded, waving the waiter over. "Black coffee for me, milk tea for her, and a slice of cake. Something that pairs well with tea. Thanks."
The waiter left, and the silence returned, stretching taut between them. In-a fidgeted with her sleeves, debating whether to escape this awkward situation altogether, when Min-Seok's voice broke through her thoughts.
"Don't even think about it," he said, a warning edge in his voice. "If you run off and leave me here after I deliberated for so long about whether I should even get involved, I'll tackle you to the ground, I'm not above it."
In-a winced, feeling both called out and embarrassed. She slumped slightly in her seat, let's just get done and over with it, she thought.
Min-Seok leaned back in his chair, letting out a heavy sigh. "First of all, I'm sorry for our behaviour at the cafeteria earlier. Ignoring you like that – it was unnecessary, rude, and honestly, kind of mean."
In-a looked up at him, skeptical.
"Don't give me that look," he said, waving her off. "And yeah, I said 'Our' behaviour because Ji-Hoon isn't going to apologize anytime soon – not after Sana cried like that earlier."
At the mention of Sana crying, In-a flinched again, dropping her gaze to the table.
"And stop acting like I'm breaking up with you or something," Min-Seok said with exasperation. "Consider me a stranger – which I kind of am - and just say what's on your mind. Young people shouldn't brood so much."
Before In-a could respond, the waiter returned with the drinks and the cake. Min-Seok leaned back as the waiter left, taking a sip of his coffee while waiting for this counselling session to finally start.
In-a frowned on her seat, her hands curling into fists under the table. "Why do you even care? You don't know me and you owe me nothing."
Min-Seok tilted his head, as if considering her words. "True, I don't. But this isn't about you, not entirely. It's about Ji-Hoon and Sana. They are my friends, and they're worried about you – well, Sana is worried about you. Helping you means helping them, and I don't mind doing that."
His words stung, though she couldn't say why. He wasn't being cruel – just honest.
"Eat," he said, pushing the plate toward her. "Sugar helps."
"I'm not hungry," she muttered.
"You don't have to be. Just try it," he replied, cutting a piece of the cake with fork and holding it out to her. His tone left little room for argument.
With a sigh, In-a relented, taking the fork from him and cutting a small piece for herself. The silence between them lingered, heavy but not hostile.
When she finally spoke, her voice was quiet, almost hesitant.
"When I first met Sana, she felt…like she didn't belong in this world," she said. "Not in a literal sense, but it was like she was part of everything without really being connected to anything. There was nothing grounding her, nothing anchoring her here. And I thought…if someone didn't reach out to her, she might just disappear. Quietly. No one would even notice."
Min-Seok stayed quiet, letting her words hang in the air.
"I didn't want that to happen," she continued, her hands trembling slightly. "So I decided to approach her. I told myself, 'I want to be her friend. I'll make her see that she doesn't have to be alone.'"
She laughed bitterly, shaking her head. "But Sana…she never made it easy. Always polite, but distant – like she was waiting for me to give up. And when I didn't, it became a game. I wanted to see her smile, to hear her laugh. And when I finally did…it felt like I won something."
Her voice faltered, and she looked down at her untouched drink. "But it wasn't real, was it? she only let me in because I forced my way through. And even then, she never really opened up to me – not the way she does with you and Ji-Hoon. Now, she doesn't need me anymore."
Min-Seok set his coffee down, his gaze steady but unreadable. "You're right about one thing," he said. "Sana doesn't need you. But that doesn't mean she doesn't want you around."
In-a looked at him, startled by his bluntness.
"Look," he continued, his tone softening slightly. "I've been where you are. Trying to be close to someone who keeps everyone out – it's exhausting. Ji-Hoon was the same way, I might even say he was worse. For years, he was hell-bent on keeping everything and everyone at arm's length. And yeah, there were times I thought about giving up. But I didn't. because I knew if I did, he'd be completely alone. And no one deserves that."
He leaned back, letting his words sink in. "You're not here to prove something to Sana. You're here because you care about her. So, stop doubting yourself and just be honest with her. If you want to be her friend - and I mean a real one, don't do it halfway. Show her that she can rely on you – not because she has to, but because she wants to."
For a moment, neither of them spoke. Then, slowly, In-a picked up her fork again, taking another bite of cake. It tasted sweeter this time, lighter somehow.