-ssi - (Read as -shi - Mr/Mrs/Ms) is an honorific used when speaking to someone. It is a respectful way of addressing another and can be used in different settings.
***
Leaning against the window, Min-jun stared out into the sprawling city, his phone pressed tightly to his ear. The night outside shimmered under the moon's pale glow, cloaking the high-rise buildings and busy streets in a silvery, dreamlike haze. Streetlights flickered like distant stars, and the faint, restless hum of traffic buzzed through the heavy glass, a soft reminder that life never truly slept here.
Yet up in his room, everything felt suspended — silent, breathless.
Min-jun bit down anxiously on his lip, the conflicting currents of excitement and dread surging inside him, leaving his hands clammy and his heart pounding against his ribs. The phone's ringing filled his ears, each prolonged tone stretching the thread of his patience tighter and tighter.
The stillness of the night, the vastness of the city spread out before him, only magnified his anticipation. It felt as if the entire universe was holding its breath along with him — a fragile, aching stillness that mirrored the restless beating of his own heart.
The phone continued to ring, the city's faint, restless hum filling the spaces between each tone — until finally, Chang-min's voice broke through the silence, deep and unhurried.
"Hey, Changmin-ah," Min-jun said quickly, barely waiting for a greeting. "What do you know about the Hwang twins?"
There was a pause, then the familiar lazy drawl of his best friend answered, edged with mild amusement.
"Who... Ah... the handsome devils. Nothing much, except they're practically glued to Seung-joon. They go everywhere together, do everything together."
The teasing lilt in Chang-min's voice only fueled the growing irritation gnawing at Min-jun's nerves.
"But why?" Min-jun snapped, his voice sharpening with exasperation, brushing aside the teasing like an itch he couldn't ignore.
"Why are you asking me?" Chang-min shot back, the sound of his frustration swelling like a sudden summer storm. "Ask them yourself! What am I, their mother? You expect me to know everything?"
The burst of outrage made Min-jun chuckle despite himself. He yanked the phone slightly away from his ear, grinning.
"Woah, woah... Calm down, Changmin-ssi," Min-jun teased, enjoying the rare chance to rile him up. "But hey, dig up some details if you can, alright? Bye!"
Before Chang-min could unleash another tirade, Min-jun ended the call with a swift flick of his thumb.
Tossing the phone carelessly onto the bed, he collapsed beside it, staring up at the dim ceiling, his body sinking heavily into the mattress.
Outside, the city lights flickered against the night sky, but inside Min-jun's mind, only a whirlpool of unanswered questions churned — restless and unrelenting, much like the city itself.
His thoughts spiraled back to the moment he first laid eyes on the Hwang twins — the way their intense, scrutinizing gazes had locked onto him.
It wasn't their mere presence, nor even their apparent close connection to Seung-joon, that unsettled him. It was something deeper, something darker — a sharp, unnerving edge hidden within their eyes, as if they could see straight through him, stripping him bare.
Was it hostility?
The question twisted inside him, gnawing at the fragile edges of his composure. He could still feel the weight of their stares clinging to him like a second skin, impossible to shake off.
The memory hovered over him like a shadow, cold and persistent, feeding a growing sense of unease.
Min-jun ached to ask Seung-joon directly — to find out if he was imagining things or if there was truly something he should fear. But their fragile bond had its limits. They hadn't even exchanged phone numbers, hadn't built that bridge.
And so Min-jun remained trapped in a restless limbo, caught between his fear and his longing, with no clear path forward — only the hollow ache of not knowing.
***
The next morning, Min-jun hurriedly dressed, his mind a maelstrom of plans and imagined scenarios.
The early sunlight streamed through his window, casting long, golden streaks across the room. Normally neat and orderly, his space now wore the subtle marks of his distracted mind — clothes draped carelessly over the back of a chair, books stacked haphazardly on the desk, an open notebook left abandoned on the floor. It wasn't dirty — just untended, a quiet testament to how consumed he had become by his own swirling thoughts.
But Min-jun barely noticed the creeping mess around him. His entire focus narrowed to a single goal: reaching school early, before Seung-joon arrived — catching him alone, before the rest of the world could intervene.
Grabbing his bag with a tight, determined grip, Min-jun bolted out the door, the lingering warmth of the morning light chasing after him.
On the way to school, Min-jun swung by to pick up Chang-min, careful not to mention Seung-joon in front of the driver. He kept up a façade of casual conversation, but inside, his thoughts churned with restless urgency.
The car wove through the early morning streets, passing rows of small bakeries opening their shutters, office workers rushing for buses, and sleepy students dragging their backpacks behind them. The city stirred awake with its usual energy, a blend of honking horns, flashing traffic lights, and the scent of fresh bread wafting from street vendors.
But Min-jun barely registered any of it. His mind was consumed by a single obsession — coaxing information out of Chang-min.
Despite his best efforts to act nonchalant, he kept stealing glances at him, his eyes silently pleading for a hint, a clue — anything.
Chang-min, however, was a fortress. He leaned lazily against the car window, the morning light glinting off his hair, a faint smile playing at his lips as he took in the scenery like a man without a care in the world. The colorful blur of the city — the banners strung across shops, the fluttering cherry blossoms on the roadside trees — seemed to absorb all his attention.
Min-jun's impatience only grew, gnawing at him as Chang-min remained maddeningly indifferent, as if the bustling life outside was infinitely more fascinating than the silent storm brewing beside him.
The moment they stepped out of the car, Min-jun spun around, blocking Chang-min's path with an urgency he could no longer contain.
"Come on, man. I know you've got something. Spill it. Tell me," Min-jun hissed, his voice low but crackling with impatience. His hands twitched at his sides, fists clenching and unclenching as he fought the urge to shake the answers out of his maddeningly calm friend.
Chang-min arched an eyebrow lazily, completely unfazed by Min-jun's desperation. A slow, knowing smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth, as if he had been waiting for this exact moment to enjoy to its fullest.
"Hwang Tae-jon and Hwang Tae-min," he drawled, stretching the words out deliberately, just to needle Min-jun further. "Carbon copies of each other, but you can tell them apart if you know what to look for. Tae-jon's the quiet one. Tae-min's the fiery troublemaker. Both of them? Brilliant. Untouchable. No one — not even the teachers — dares cross them."
Min-jun's heart hammered in his chest, every word hitting like a fresh spark to the bonfire of his nerves.
"Oh, and they're already signed with a modeling agency," Chang-min added casually, glancing at his nails as if discussing the weather. "As for Seung-joon? He sticks to them like glue. Follows their lead. Always has."
He shot a sideways glance at Min-jun, enjoying the visible frustration tightening his friend's jaw.
"They live in D*," Chang-min finished with a shrug. "But I'm guessing you already knew that, didn't you?"
Min-jun's mind raced, dissecting every word Chang-min had dropped, piecing them together like a puzzle he couldn't afford to get wrong. His thoughts spun faster with every step they took toward the school grounds.
The school was already alive with the usual morning bustle — students milling about in their sharp uniforms, laughter and chatter spilling into the crisp morning air. The cherry trees lining the walkways shivered in the breeze, their blossoms scattering like soft rain across the neat stone paths. Teachers carrying stacks of papers strode across the courtyards, and the distant echo of announcements rang faintly from the loudspeakers.
But Min-jun was oblivious to it all.
Every sound, every face blurred into insignificance as he zeroed in on his goal. His heart pounded relentlessly against his ribs, fueled by a single, burning purpose: find Seung-joon. Catch him before anyone else could pull him away.
As they neared the main school building, Min-jun quickened his pace, breaking away from Chang-min without a second thought. He maneuvered through the stream of students with sharp precision, heading straight for the staircase that led to the 11th-grade hall.
Positioning himself strategically by the stairs, he pressed close to the railing, his body tense with anticipation. His eyes scanned every passing figure, each heartbeat thundering louder in his ears as he waited — poised, ready.
***
Seung-joon's familiar figure emerged at the far end of the corridor, moving with his usual unhurried grace, as if untouched by the restless energy buzzing around him.
Min-jun's breath caught in his throat. His eyes darted anxiously along the hallway, searching — almost fearing — the sudden appearance of the Hwang twins. But to his immense relief, the corridor was mercifully empty, the morning bustle seeming to have momentarily bypassed this stretch of the building.
His pulse quickened, pounding in his ears. Without giving himself time to second-guess, Min-jun stepped forward, the world narrowing down to just Seung-joon.
In one swift, decisive motion, he grasped Seung-joon's hand — startlingly warm against his own — and pulled him into the nearest empty classroom.
The door clicked shut behind them, sealing them in a pocket of sudden silence.
The faint scent of chalk dust and old textbooks hung heavy in the still air as Seung-joon turned toward him, wide-eyed with confusion.
"Hyung, what's going on?" he asked, his voice soft and bewildered.
Min-jun didn't answer. He tightened his grip slightly, as if it might steady the storm inside him.
"Joon-ah, tell me — quickly. What's your relationship with the Hwang twins?," Min-jun urged, his voice trembling with barely restrained urgency. His eyes searched Seung-joon's face, desperate for a crack in the calm exterior that might give him answers.
For a long, agonizing heartbeat, Seung-joon hesitated, his lips parting slightly as though he was struggling to find the right words.
Finally, he let out a soft, resigned sigh. His expression remained unreadable, save for the faintest trace of a bittersweet smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.
"Hyung... they're my brothers."
Min-jun felt the words crash over him like a tidal wave, leaving him stunned, reeling.
"What… but… your surname is Kim," Min-jun stammered, the pieces refusing to fit together in his mind.
A flicker of sadness — sharp and fleeting — crossed Seung-joon's face, gone almost before Min-jun could fully register it.
"I'm adopted," Seung-joon said quietly.
The confession hung heavy between them, the silence that followed thick with everything neither of them knew how to say.
Before Min-jun could summon a response, the fragile moment shattered — the door to the classroom slammed open with a deafening bang, crashing against the wall with enough force to rattle the windows.
Min-jun's heart lurched as he spun around, instincts flaring into panic.
The Hwang twins stood framed in the doorway, their faces shadowed with barely contained fury, the air around them crackling with tension.
Tae-jon moved first, his expression grim and unyielding. He crossed the room in a few swift strides, grasping Seung-joon's wrist with a grip that was firm, yet carried an odd gentleness. Without a word, he pulled his brother away from Min-jun's side, his glare cold enough to chill the very air between them.
Tae-min stepped forward next, his presence igniting the space between them like dry grass catching fire. His eyes bore into Min-jun with a ferocity that brooked no misunderstanding.
"Don't ever touch him again," Tae-min hissed, his voice low, dangerous.
He moved closer, his words dropping into a near-growl, each syllable laced with venom.
"If you even look at our Seung-joon again... I'll bury you alive."
The threat, absurd as it might have sounded coming from a high schooler, left no room for doubt. Tae-min's tone wasn't bluster — it was a cold, lethal promise, and every instinct in Min-jun screamed to take it seriously.
Frozen, Min-jun could only watch helplessly as Tae-jon pulled Seung-joon toward the door.
For one breathless moment, Seung-joon twisted to look back — a single, fleeting glance. His blue eyes shimmered with a painful mix of apology and resignation, a silent goodbye that struck Min-jun harder than any spoken word.
The door clicked shut behind them, the sound impossibly loud in the suffocating stillness that followed.
Min-jun stood there, the ghost of Seung-joon's touch still lingering on his skin, while Tae-min's venomous words echoed relentlessly in his ears.
But louder than the threat, louder than the fear, was the hollow ache clawing at his chest — the searing, undeniable sense of loss.