chapter two

Minho woke up every morning feeling like the world was already one step ahead of him—and not in a good way. School wasn’t a place he went; it was a place he endured. The halls felt too bright, too loud, too crowded for someone who just wanted to disappear into the background.

But he never got the chance.

Woojin, Hangsa, and Sungwa made sure of that.

They weren’t the kind of bullies who yelled loudly in front of teachers. They were the quiet, sharp type. The ones who whispered things as they passed. The ones who bumped into him just hard enough for it to hurt, yet subtle enough to play innocent. The ones who smirked at every flinch like it was the day’s entertainment.

Every time Minho walked down the hallway, it felt like stepping into cold wind—unavoidable and biting. He kept his eyes low. His shoulders tight. His breath small. Some days he wondered if anyone even noticed how hard he was trying to simply exist.

But two people did.

Han and Hyunjin—his only friends, and the only reason Minho didn’t feel completely hollow. Han always tried to make him laugh, even if it meant doing the dumbest impressions. Hyunjin had this habit of linking arms with Minho when he sensed things were bad, grounding him without saying a word.

They couldn’t erase the shadows, but they could hold a light.

Still, the days were heavy. Minho would sit in class, pretending to take notes while his mind drifted—imagining what it would be like if people just… left him alone. If he didn’t have to brace himself every time he heard footsteps behind him. If he didn’t have to pretend he was fine just to make it through sixth period.

He didn’t want to be dramatic. He didn’t want to be fragile. He just wanted to breathe without feeling like the air was full of needles.

Sometimes, when the three bullies laughed in the distance, Minho felt like the whole world was laughing with them.

But when Han lightly nudged him and whispered, “Bro, you gotta stop looking like a sad anime character—at least look like a cool one,” Minho felt something warm flicker in his chest.

When Hyunjin draped his jacket over Minho’s shoulders because “you look cold, idiot,” that flicker steadied.

His life wasn’t bright. It wasn’t easy. Most days felt gray and tiring.

But at least he wasn’t walking through it alone.

And sometimes—on the quieter days—it was enough to keep him going.

...----------------...

...Love for my friend? ...

...Minho’s POV...

...I don’t know when it started....

...Maybe it was always there, something small and quiet sitting under my ribs, waiting for me to finally pay attention. Or maybe it grew slowly, like a bruise that spreads even when you’re not aware of the moment you got hurt....

...All I know is—at some point, Han stopped being “just Han.”...

...And I started noticing things I shouldn’t....

...Like how he laughs with his whole face, even when the joke he’s laughing at is his own and nobody else thinks it’s funny. Or how he always walks on the outside of the sidewalk, like it’s a habit he doesn’t even think about. Or the way he never lets go of my sleeve when he pulls me through a crowded hallway. Like he’s worried he’ll lose me in the noise....

...I used to think I liked having him around because he made the bad days easier....

...Now I think maybe the reason some days even feel survivable…...

...is because he’s in them....

...It’s stupid. I know it’s stupid. He’s my friend. He’s safe. He’s the one who always tries to make me smile when I don’t even feel like a real person....

...But lately, it’s like I can’t stop paying attention to him....

...When he leans close to whisper a joke, my heart jumps in a way I pretend not to notice. When he links our arms together, I feel warm for the rest of the day—embarrassingly warm, like the feeling refuses to fade even long after he lets go. And when he smiles at me… it feels like I’m standing under sunlight after weeks of rain....

...Hyunjin teases me sometimes, calling us dramatic....

...But I don’t think he understands it....

...This isn’t drama....

...It’s… something else. Something I don’t have a name for yet....

...There was this moment last week—small, stupid, but it keeps replaying in my head. We were sitting under the stairwell during lunch, hiding from everyone. Han was swinging his legs, talking about some video game update, and I wasn’t really listening. I was too busy watching the way the light caught the strands of his hair....

...And then he looked at me....

...Directly....

...Like he caught me staring—and instead of laughing, he just smiled a little....

...A soft smile. The kind people only give when they really care....

...“Minho,” he said quietly, nudging my knee with his. “You okay? You’re being quiet.”...

...I wanted to say, I’m not okay, because I think I’m starting to feel something for you I don’t know how to handle....

...I wanted to ask him if he ever felt weird around me too—if the warmth I feel is one-sided....

...But I just nodded and said, “Yeah. Just tired.”...

...He didn’t push. He never pushes....

...He just scooted closer, shoulder touching mine, and said, “Then I’ll keep talking. You like it when I talk.”...

...And somehow, I did....

...Somehow, that simple sentence stayed with me all week....