By the time Friday arrived, the air in the photography club felt different. The assignment this week was sports photography, and the students were excited and could not stay quiet. Talk of upcoming matches and plans for creative shots filled the clubroom, almost like a celebration, but the tension between Ji-hun and Ho-jin was still there.

The afternoon sun streamed through the large windows, painting rectangles of gold on the scuffed linoleum floor. Ji-hun felt uncomfortable in his seat while Ho-jin stood at the front and talked about shutter speed and motion blur. Each time Ho-jin's eyes swept across the room, Ji-hun kept his head down, pretending to adjust the dials on his camera.

Hae-sol nudged him with an elbow. 

"Are you really gonna ignore him forever?" he whispered, eyes wide with concern.

"It's not like he wants me around," Ji-hun replied, his voice sounding flat while he turned the pages of his notebook.

The club split up soon after, heading toward the soccer fields to shoot live action. Ji-hun and Hae-sol walked together, cameras bouncing against their chests as the sounds of whistles and shouting players drifted across the school grounds.

"I heard Ho-jin's actually pretty good at soccer," Hae-sol said, eyes sparkling with excitement.

Ji-hun grunted and kept looking at the light on the grass. He tried to focus on the patterns instead of his thoughts. He still remembered Ho-jin's voice from a few days ago, and it stayed in his head. 

He was also surprised that Ho-jin had come all the way to his house to talk. He knew he had caused him real trouble, and he did not feel brave enough to look him in the eye anymore. 

The only thing he could do was stay out of his way until the end of the year. Once Ho-jin graduated, they would not have to see each other again.

—

The players were warming up on the field. Ho-jin stood on the sidelines with his camera bag. The guys kept calling his name. They wanted him to play before the match started. They just wouldn't let it go. Finally, Ho-jin gave in. He put his stuff down and ran onto the grass. He looked like he knew what he was doing out there. He passed the ball and moved around the other guys easily.

Through his lens, Ji-hun couldn't help but track Ho-jin's every step. The sun caught in his hair, sweat glistened along his neck, and each burst of laughter as he called out to teammates seemed to light him up from the inside. 

Ji-hun's hands worked the camera instinctively, capturing every fleeting expression, every moment of fierce concentration or joyful triumph.

As he pressed the shutter again and again, a warmth grew in his chest, melting the icy walls he'd tried so hard to build. He found himself smiling despite the confusion twisting in his heart.

—

That evening, Ji-hun stayed late in the darkroom. He locked the door and dipped the paper in the trays. He watched the images show up under the red light. The photos caught Ho-jin in motion. One showed a slide tackle. Another showed a grin after a goal. The last one showed him just catching his breath with his hair on his forehead.

Ji-hun lined them up on the drying rack and looked closely at Ho-jin's face in each photo. He felt his heart beat faster and tried to calm down. After a while, he picked a few of the best shots and put them carefully into his bag.

Later at home, he pinned two of them to the inside of his locker door. He slid another one into his notebook so he could look at it whenever he wanted.

He told himself it was just because they were good photos. That was all. 

But every time he looked at them, he felt something warm and painful in his chest. He did not even understand why he felt that way.

—

The days went by with classes and homework. One cloudy afternoon, Ji-hun was walking home and took the shortcut through the alley near the school. It was quiet there. As he walked, a group of older boys stepped out from behind a dumpster and stood in his way.

"Ya, kid," one sneered, stepping close enough that Ji-hun could smell the sour tang of stale cigarette smoke. "Got any cash?"

"I don't have anything," Ji-hun said and grabbed his backpack straps.

One of the boys laughed, and then his hand swung out of nowhere. He slapped Ji-hun hard across the face before he could even react. The guy wore a heavy ring, and the metal left a small cut on Ji-hun's cheek. His skin burned right away, and his ears rang for a moment, so he just took a step back to keep his balance.

"Are you sure? I think you better check your pockets," the boy said.

The other boys stepped closer, and Ji-hun closed his eyes to wait for another hit. But the hit never came. 

Someone grabbed the oldest boy by the back of his collar and slammed him hard against the brick wall. The sound of the impact echoed through the narrow alley. Ji-hun opened his eyes, and he saw Ho-jin. He stood right there, and he did not look like the calm club leader at all. He looked like he wanted to tear them apart.

"Take your fucking hands off him," Ho-jin said. He did not shout, but his voice was low and dangerous enough to make everyone step back.

The oldest boy pushed himself away from the wall, and the side of his face was already red and scraped from the hard bricks. He looked terrified, and he breathed fast as he looked at his friends. They did not want to find out what Ho-jin would do next, so they all turned and ran down the alley. Ho-jin watched them leave, and then he stepped forward to hold Ji-hun by the arm.

"Are you okay?" he asked. He sounded worried.

Ji-hun couldn't speak. His mouth opened, but only a choked breath came out. 

Ho-jin took his hand firmly and pulled him along, leading him out of the alley and through quiet side streets until they reached an apartment complex.

Inside, the warm air wrapped around them, the smell of old wood and faint detergent clinging to the narrow hallway. Ho-jin guided Ji-hun into a small, cozy room decorated with shelves of camera gear and black-and-white photos pinned to the walls.

"Sit," he said softly, pushing Ji-hun into a chair. He rummaged through a drawer, pulling out a first-aid kit, then knelt and began cleaning the cut on Ji-hun's cheek with gentle, careful hands.

Ji-hun's eyes drifted over the photos on the walls. Min-ji smiling under cherry blossoms, blurred city lights captured late at night, candid shots of strangers on bustling streets. His breath caught as he realized how beautiful Ho-jin's work was, each image pulsing with life.

"If anyone bothers you like that again, tell me right away," Ho-jin said, his voice husky as he pressed a bandage into place.

Ji-hun swallowed hard. "Okay… hyung."

Ho-jin froze for half a second, eyes wide with surprise before a slow, disbelieving smile spread across his lips. 

"Hyung, huh? So I finally earned it?" he said and laughed a little.

Ji-hun's face burned hot enough he thought it might catch fire. 

"I… I didn't mean—"

Ho-jin chuckled quietly, adjusting the bandage one last time with a touch so careful it made Ji-hun's heart pound in his chest.

"Wait here," he said. He walked to his desk and opened a drawer. After a moment, he came back with three photos in his hand and held them out to him. His face looked gentle.

"These are yours."

Ji-hun's hands trembled as he accepted the prints. Each showed him smiling, eyes lit with unguarded joy he barely recognized. 

"When… when did you take these, hyung?"

"I took them after our first club meeting. I don't even know why. I just… wanted to. It was the first time I saw you smiling. You look really cute when you smile. That serious look you always have just disappears."

Ji-hun did not know what to say. 

"Thank you. I'll keep these well."

—

They walked home together as the streetlights turned on one by one. They spoke quietly. Ho-jin talked about how he wanted to study photography abroad someday. He said he hoped to travel and take photos in different places around the world.

Ji-hun also told him that he wanted to become a photographer someday. He did not say much after that. He had realized that he liked listening to Ho-jin talk.

When they got to Ji-hun's house, he looked at Ho-jin. 

"Thank you… for everything today," he said quietly.

Ho-jin reached out and moved Ji-hun's hair away from his face. "So, are we friends now?" he asked.

Ji-hun smiled at him. He felt a little shy, but his smile was completely real. "Yeah... we're friends, hyung," he said.

And just like that, they became friends, and they did not care about the six-year age gap between them.