Ha-Joon stepped out of the kitchen, balancing a tray of freshly made dumplings in his hands. The warm scent filled the small shop, wrapping around him like a familiar embrace. He kept his expression neutral, his movements steady—but his heart still ached from his grandfather's words.
As he set the tray down in front of Seo-Won, he heard the soft scrape of a chair.
Seo-Won had been leaning back lazily, but the moment their eyes met—just for a fleeting second—his smirk faded.
Ha-Joon looked away quickly, but it was too late.
Seo-Won had noticed.
"Was he… crying?"
A flicker of something unfamiliar crossed Seo-Won's face. Guilt? Concern? He wasn't sure. But for the first time since meeting Ha-Joon, he hesitated before speaking.
"…Hey," Seo-Won said, his voice lower than usual. "Are you okay?"
Ha-Joon forced a small smile. "Of course. Just… the kitchen smoke."
Seo-Won didn't believe him for a second.
"Liar."
Before he could push further, a soft chuckle broke the tense atmosphere.
"You remind me of someone, young man," Grandpa said, sitting down beside Seo-Won.
Seo-Won turned to him, momentarily distracted. "Oh? Who?"
Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Ha-Joon stiffen, his hands tightening around his apron.
Grandpa sighed, his weathered hands folding together on the table. The golden glow of the dumpling shop lights made his expression look even more nostalgic.
"When Ha-Joon was in middle school…" Grandpa's voice was soft, heavy. "His parents passed away in a car accident."
The words landed like a quiet storm.
Seo-Won felt his fingers tighten around his cup as the weight of those words sank in.
The shop around him seemed to fade as he imagined it—Ha-Joon, just a kid, suddenly alone.
A younger Ha-Joon stood in his school uniform, his posture stiff as he clutched the strap of his bag.
Around him, other students laughed and talked in groups, their voices bright and cheerful.
No one noticed the boy standing alone.
"After that day, he never had friends."
The scene shifted.
In a noisy cafeteria filled with chatter and movement, Ha-Joon sat alone at a table.
His lunchbox remained untouched.
No one joined him. No one even looked his way.
"They ignored him. Pretended he didn't exist."
Years passed.
High school.
Ha-Joon smiled at his teachers, nodded politely at his classmates, answered questions when asked—but always kept his distance.
His smile never reached his eyes.
And no one noticed.
"He learned how to smile. How to pretend he was fine."
Back in the present, Seo-Won let out a slow breath, staring at his reflection in the dark liquid of his drink.
"So that's why he looked so scared earlier… why he always tries to run."
Across from him, Ha-Joon fidgeted. He kept his gaze locked on the table, his shoulders tense. He looked like he was bracing himself, waiting for pity.
"…It's not a big deal," he mumbled.
Seo-Won lifted his gaze, his sharp blue eyes locking onto Ha-Joon.
Then, without warning, he reached out and flicked Ha-Joon's forehead.
Ha-Joon jerked up, startled. "Ow—! What was that for?!"
Seo-Won smirked, but this time, it was softer—not teasing, but genuine.
"Idiot," he said, leaning back in his chair. "If you think I'm gonna ignore you like they did… you're wrong."
Ha-Joon blinked.
For the first time, he was completely speechless.
Seo-Won just grinned and picked up a dumpling, biting into it casually.
"These dumplings are good," he said, chewing thoughtfully. "I might come here every day."
Ha-Joon's eyes widened in horror. "W-what?! No, you can't!"
Seo-Won laughed at his panicked expression, clearly enjoying his reaction.
From across the table, Grandpa simply watched them, a knowing smile on his face.
"Maybe… Ha-Joon won't be alone anymore."