“Can’t you just date me?”

Shihwan watched the expression on Boram’s face change to one of clear discomfort.

He knew immediately what his answer would be.

And he nearly kicked himself.

Boram was shifting awkwardly from side to side, tugging the hand that Shihwan gently held.

Shihwan released him.

“I—” Boram began to say, then stopped, and his eyes briefly darted to the closed door that led back to the stage, back to where the sunbae still stood.

“I—” he began again, then turned back to him and visibly swallowed.

He looked cornered, and Shihwan knew then that he had taken the wrong step.

I shouldn’t have confessed. Not now… not yet.

It had been too soon.

But it was already too late.

“I’m sorry,” Boram said in a soft voice, and Shihwan looked up.

He didn’t want to hear it.

“No, it’s not something to be sorry about,” he replied, sighing to himself.

He had screwed up, but if there was even the slightest of chances—“Can you think about it some more? I… don’t like the way he treats you.”

Boram grabbed his hand, cutting off his words. “You don’t have to be responsible for me.”

“No,” said Shihwan, shaking his head. “That’s not what I mean. It’s because I like you that I can’t just stand by and watch the way he treats you.”

“I’m sorry, Shihwan,” said Boram. “If I am being honest, you’re probably one of the best people I have ever met, and if it were a different time… maybe. But right now, I—”

Boram didn’t finish what he was trying to say, but he didn’t have to because Shihwan knew what he was trying to say. And he simply didn’t want to hear it.

It was a clear rejection.

“At least promise,” Shihwan said after a long moment of silence, “that you won’t let him walk all over you.”

A small, sad smile crossed Boram’s face. “Life’s not easy for him.”

“That doesn’t justify being an asshole,” Shihwan retorted, more angrily than he had anticipated.

Surprised, Boram let out a small laugh. “You’re right,” he replied. He briefly turned to gaze back at the stage behind them. “But what can I do? I like him.”

~

Shihwan walked aimlessly. He didn’t care what he was doing or where he was going.

But when he looked up, he noticed that his body had taken him to the architectural library.

There was only one person he knew in that department. Somehow, his body had remembered that Insu spent his Saturday afternoons studying there.

Feeling just a little bit lighter, his footsteps quickened as he entered the building and quietly walked past sections of old leather bound books, the smell bringing back memories of studying with Insu in their school days.

When he came upon the historic preservation section, he stopped. He didn’t know how, but he somehow knew that Insu was nearby. And that there was nobody else on the floor.

He looked around; the tables were all isolated into little sections, half hidden by shelves of old, dusty textbooks.

He quietly turned a corner and froze.

In front of him, some several yards away, was Insu. His head was slightly bent, hair up in a messy bun, gold rim glasses nearly falling off the bridge of his high nose as he pored over the book in front of him.

For a moment, Shihwan simply watched him. Immediately, he felt calmer. His heart, which had been distraught and aching, was now content.

Only he could do this, Shihwan thought to himself, leaning against a nearby bookcase and watching as Insu scribbled something into his notebook.

No one else could make him feel at peace in the way that Insu did.

A full minute passed before Insu raised his head. He pushed his glasses back up his nose and reached for his phone.

He stared at the small screen for a moment, then set the phone back down on the desk with a disappointed look on his face.

Shihwan frowned.

Had he been expecting a text from someone? And what did that person mean to Insu for him to sport such an expression?

Vaguely irritated and not knowing why, Shihwan pushed himself away from the bookcase and walked over to where Insu sat.

Insu, who had returned his gaze to his book, did not immediately respond.

For a long moment, they both simply stood there, unmoving. And Shihwan nearly smiled, all of the previous irritation having left him.

It was so quintessentially Insu — this response to ignore the disturbance until it simply went away. And most people did, utterly discouraged by Insu’s obvious disinterest.

But Shihwan wasn’t most people.

“You’re not going to even look at me?” he asked softly, and the small smile on his face grew into a full-sized grin as Insu’s head jerked up at the sound of his voice.

When Insu’s eyes met his, Shihwan felt something flutter in his chest, and he paused.

What was that?

“What—What—Why are you here?” Insu stammered.

But instead of replying to the question, a soft thought came tumbling from his lips. “Cute.”

Insu’s jaw fell open as he stared up at him, dumbfounded. “Wha—What?”

Shihwan reached up and tapped the area on his own face where glasses would have sat had he worn them. “Your glasses.”

Insu’s eyes widened almost painfully before he ducked beneath the desk.

Shihwan could hear the sounds of shuffled, hurried movements and a soft curse before Insu reemerged, his hair down and flowing freely about his shoulders and glasses nowhere in sight.

All signs of a flustered Insu had disappeared, and Shihwan found himself wishing to witness it a bit longer.

“Why are you here?” asked Insu again as he closed his book and placed it in his bag.

But again Shihwan did not answer and instead gave him a soft smile. “Are you almost done?”

Insu stood. “I’ll head out now.”

“If you have more work, I don’t mind sticking around—”

He shook his head. “I was just reviewing some material.”

Shihwan nodded and moved to grab his bag when Insu snatched it back and gave him a pointed look. “I can carry it myself.”

Shihwan chuckled as he followed his friend toward the exit.

They walked quietly side by side for a while as they strolled through the campus. It was a Saturday afternoon, and the area was nearly empty.

Shihwan smiled to himself as he discreetly watched Insu shoot him fleeting, sideway glances.

That was another thing that was just like him. He didn’t pry, but it was obvious that he couldn’t contain his curiosity.

Shihwan sighed quietly to himself. He wanted to talk to Insu, but they didn’t have the kind of relationship where they talked about their love lives. They talked about everything else, but, for some reason, it felt odd to broach this subject, especially since Insu was such a private person when it came to his feelings.

But as the dull ache continued in his chest, Shihwan realized he wanted to talk to him. He wanted that comfort only Insu could give him.

So he stopped walking and turned to his friend.

Insu too stopped and looked up with a questioning gaze, one that was also full of concern. And Shihwan felt his heart expand a little. If there was one thing he was certain of, he knew how much he meant to Insu. And, at that moment, it acted like a healing balm.

“What?” he asked when Shihwan did not immediately speak. “What’s wrong?”

Shihwan looked into his eyes, knowing that in a moment he’d tell Insu what had happened. Insu would then comfort him, and they’d hang out at Insu’s place until Shihwan felt better.

Just the thought alone of being able to talk to Insu about it cheered him up a little.

“I confessed to Boram,” he said, letting a small, dejected, and embarrassed smile graze his face, wondering if maybe the plea for comfort was too obvious.

But when he looked up and met Insu’s eyes, he was surprised at the expression he saw there.

For the look on Insu’s face was nothing less than shattered.

.