Left Behind In Spring
•1
The cherry blossoms were falling again.
Soft, pale petals drifted lazily through the sky, caught in the breeze as if reluctant to land.
The air smelled like spring — warm, bittersweet, and aching with something that couldn’t quite be named.
Somewhere between sunlight and memory.
Laughter echoed through the narrow alleyways of a small town, the voices young and full of promise.
Minjae stood there, barefoot on the edge of the hill, his small hand grasped in someone else’s.
That someone was always the same in these dreams — the boy with dyed hair, too-big eyes, that used to mean everything.
They were eight, maybe nine, and everything in the world was still simple. Safe.
Young boy (Minjae)
Minjae-yah, don’t let go
The boy whispered. He never did. Not then.
The dream never changed. And neither did the ache it left behind.
Minjae woke up to the sound of his alarm screeching against the silence of his dorm room.
He rolled over and slapped his hand against the clock.
Rubbing the sleep from his eyes as the warmth of the dream slipped away like melting snow.
For a moment, he stayed still, eyes half-lidded, heart too heavy for a Monday morning.
Then he sighed and sat up, the blanket pooling around his waist.
It had been years. A decade, even. But Kang Dohyun still haunted his springs.
Campus was bustling by the time Minjae arrived for his first class.
•2
The cherry trees lining the university walkways had bloomed overnight, turning the roads into rivers of pink.
Students were taking photos, laughing, complaining about midterms.
And the occasional couple stood beneath the trees, holding hands like they meant forever.
Minjae kept his head down, earbuds in, pretending he was just another face in the crowd.
It was easier that way — easier to move through life without having to explain why spring always left him a little lonelier than it should.
His best friend, Harin, caught up to him outside the lecture hall, swinging an arm over his shoulder.
Lee Harin (Minjae’s best friend)
You look like you haven’t slept in a year.
Jung Minjae
Good morning to you, too,
Minjae muttered. Harin snorted.
Lee Harin (Minjae’s best friend)
Let me guess.
Lee Harin (Minjae’s best friend)
Dreamed about him again?
Minjae’s silence was answer enough.
Lee Harin (Minjae’s best friend)
I’m starting to think you need therapy.
Lee Harin (Minjae’s best friend)
Or, like, a really good exorcist.
Minjae said, lips twitching at the corners.
Jung Minjae
You can’t be traumatized,
Jung Minjae
by someone you haven’t seen in ten years.
Lee Harin (Minjae’s best friend)
Mm. Tell that to the way you flinch every time someone says the word ‘Busan.’
Jung Minjae
You’re dramatic.
Lee Harin (Minjae’s best friend)
And you’re in denial.
They filed into the lecture hall together, finding their usual seats in the middle row.
The professor hadn’t arrived yet, and the students around them were buzzing with gossip and introductions.
•3
Harin pulled out his phone, barely glancing up as he said,
Lee Harin (Minjae’s best friend)
Oh. There’s a new transfer student joining the department today.
Lee Harin (Minjae’s best friend)
Fourth year. From Busan, actually.
Minjae’s fingers froze on the zipper of his bag.
Lee Harin (Minjae’s best friend)
You okay?
Harin asked, voice softening just enough.
Jung Minjae
Yeah. Just… weird coincidence.
It didn’t mean anything. Not every boy from Busan was Kang Dohyun.
But the universe had a cruel sense of timing.
Later that afternoon, Minjae walked into his elective class — Comparative Media Theory — and nearly dropped his notebook.
Sitting by the window, headphones on, flipping through a textbook with the bored elegance.
Of someone who’d done this a thousand times, was the boy from his dreams.
Older now. Taller. The messy hair had turned sleek, the cheeks sharpened with time, but the eyes—
The eyes were exactly the same.
Minjae stopped in his tracks. His heart stuttered in his chest, and for one fragile second, the world spun backward.
It was really him. Kang Dohyun. Here. At his university.
Minjae didn’t move. He didn’t breathe. His feet stayed glued to the floor as he watched Dohyun nod politely at the girl beside him.
Answer a question, and return to his book like it was just another day. Like Minjae didn’t exist.
Like he didn’t remember him at all.
Minjae sat three rows behind and two seats to the left. Far enough to hide. Close enough to hurt.
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