Song Ji-hu walked toward the corner café, hoodie zipped up and eyes half-open, still feeling the hangover from too much soju and Seojun’s two-hour rant about “architecture guys acting deep just because they don’t talk much, especially the straight one I’m dumb enough to like.”

He yawned loudly, not bothering to cover his mouth. His jet-black hair was tied in a messy high bun. Even in sweatpants and his hoodie, he looked like a K-pop idol effortlessly.

Just as he reached for the café door, someone inside pushed it open. A moment later, hot coffee spilled over his chest, soaking right through his hoodie.

“Damn it!” Ji-hu shouted, stumbling backward as the hot liquid soaked his hoodie.

“I’m so sorry!” a voice said quickly, clearly upset.

Ji-hu took a quick breath, feeling the burn spread on his skin.

“Are you burned?” the person asked again, clearly worried.

Ji-hu shook his head, trying to steady himself. “No, no, it’s just my hoodie. I’m fine. Wait… what?”

Their eyes met amid awkwardness. Startled, they slowly realized it was the architecture guy, the straight one Seojun kept mentioning.

Yeonjun went completely still. So did Ji-hu.

Yeonjun was the first to speak.

“Oh… hey.”

“Hey,” Ji-hu replied, still blinking like he wasn’t sure this was really happening.

Yeonjun looked totally embarrassed as he held the empty paper cup.

“I’m really sorry. That was all my fault. I’ll pay to get it cleaned or buy you a new hoodie. I promise.”

Ji-hu looked down at his soaked hoodie and let out a sigh. His lips curved gently, amusement shining behind his calm gaze.

“Don’t worry about it. I’ve got a change of clothes in my bag. But while I’m changing, get me a coffee. Iced mocha. Extra whipped cream and chocolate syrup.”

How can anyone drink something that sweet so early? Yeonjun wondered quietly, then politely said, “Right away,” and moved toward the counter.

Ji-hu had already reached the bathroom door and didn’t even bother looking back.

—

In the café bathroom, Ji-hu pulled off his soaked hoodie with a sigh. His reflection looked tired, hair messy, collarbone showing above a clean T-shirt. Lean and athletic from natural activity, not workouts.

He grabbed a fresh oversized T-shirt from his backpack, slipped it on, and fixed his bun in the mirror.

He laughed quietly.

“You really owe me for this, Seojun…”

When he stepped out of the bathroom, Yeonjun was waiting right by the door, holding an iced mocha out toward him.

“Hey, I’ve got my car. If you’re heading to school, want to go together?”

—

A few minutes later, they were sitting in Yeonjun’s car, heading toward campus. The inside was quiet and warm. Both of them were sipping their drinks, and Ji-hu let out a soft sound of satisfaction as he took in all the chocolate and sugar.

“Do you live around here?” he asked and looked at him.

“I’ve been staying at a hotel nearby. I used to live with a friend, but I broke up with them.”

“Oh? So you’re not originally from Seoul?”

Yeonjun hesitated for a moment before replying.

“You always carry a change of clothes with you?” he asked, trying to change the subject.

“Whenever we have painting workshops, yeah. Aprons don’t always protect your clothes. I’ve messed up enough shirts to figure that out.”

“Smart.”

“I’m Song Ji-hu. Technically, we’ve met before… you just looked pretty busy that day.”

“Yeah, you could say that. Han Yeonjun.”

They both smiled as they continued sipping their drinks, the car moving smoothly through the campus gate.

—

When they arrived at the parking lot, Ji-hu got out first, swinging his bag over his shoulder. Yeonjun followed, and they walked together across the plaza toward the Fine Arts building, chatting quietly as they went.

Seojun stood near the Fine Arts building, watching them with a blank expression. He didn’t move, as if trying to make sense of what he was seeing.

“Hyung!”

“What the fuck? What were you doing with him??”

“He spilled coffee on me. I had to change my hoodie, and he gave me a ride. That’s all.”

“What do you mean you changed your hoodie?” His voice caught in the middle, and he looked like he was about to lose it.

Ji-hu laughed out loud.

“I really like this unhinged side of you. If we weren’t friends, I’d probably go out with you.”

“Unless you want me to actually hit you, start explaining. Everything.”

Ji-hu adjusted his bag on his shoulder and tilted his head.

“I’ll fill you in during class. Let’s go, we’re already late.”

—

As classes ended, Ji-a caught up to Yeonjun near the back exit of the Fine Arts building. Gone was the Ji-a who had yelled earlier that day. Now she spoke in a quiet voice that sounded almost like a cat’s gentle purr.

“Can we talk?” she asked.

He nodded. They walked together in silence until they reached a quiet corner of campus where a stone bench sat shaded under a tall tree, far from the noise of students heading home.

Yeonjun didn’t sit down. He stood next to the bench with his hands in his pockets, eyes lowered.

“If you’re going to ask when I’ll pick up my stuff, I’ll come by once I find a place.”

“No. That’s not why I came.”

Yeonjun looked at her with a tired face but watchful eyes. 

“So, what do you want to talk about?”

“I want you back. Don’t you think this break-up has lasted long enough? You don’t reply to my texts or calls anymore. You’re just dragging it out. It’s not that serious.”

Yeonjun kept looking at her face a moment longer than he wanted. Then he shook his head.

“I don’t want to be with you anymore, Ji-a.”

“Do you really think you’ll find someone better? What did you tell your dad? You’ve been at his place for a week. Didn’t he ask why you’re not coming home?”

“Ji-a, shut up! You hit me! Everyone saw it.”

His whole body was shaking. His breath became shallow, like it was harder to take in air. His hands felt cold, fingers twitching at his sides. The world around him seemed to tilt just a little.

“I’ll get my stuff soon. I don’t even want to talk to you anymore.” He paused, then added, “By the way, I haven’t been staying at my dad’s place for a week.”

He turned, shoulders stiff, and walked away without looking back.

Ji-a stayed where she was, tears filling her eyes, not from sadness but from the anger of losing control over him.

—

Yeonjun sat tense in the driver’s seat, gripping the wheel so hard his knuckles turned white. His legs trembled, and his breath came fast, catching halfway.

“Stay calm. Just stay calm…”

He leaned forward, resting his forehead on the cool leather, forcing himself to breathe slowly.

After a moment, he lifted his head quickly.

“Fuck… I need a drink,” he muttered to himself.

He started the engine, put the car in drive, and pulled out of the parking lot without hesitating.

—

Yeonjun entered the bar, greeted by laughter, loud music, and overlapping conversations. He scanned the crowd, hoping to spot someone from campus, but everyone was a stranger.

He paused near the entrance, unsure where to go. People stood scattered with drinks, looking relaxed and confident. He sighed quietly and headed to the bar, not caring what he would order because he just needed something to do.

While waiting in line, someone bumped into him. Turning around, he recognized Seojun immediately. The same punk who had stepped in after Ji-a slapped him near the architecture building. They hadn’t spoken, but Yeonjun remembered how calmly Seojun had handled the chaos.

For a moment, neither spoke. Seojun’s eyes widened, a smile spreading across his lips. He looked surprised but not uncomfortable, as if something he had hoped for had just happened.

Yeonjun stared back, his eyes tired but not cold or warm. Slowly, his slumped shoulders straightened, as if gathering himself.

They stayed still. Around them, the bar buzzed with noise, but everything else blurred away. Only the space between them felt real.

In that space, something new had begun.