"Changmin-ah… Changmin-ah…" Min-jun moaned, his voice muffled, as he tossed and turned restlessly on the creased bed, his limbs tangled in the sheets like a prisoner of his own longing.
Chang-min glanced up from his exam paper, his sharp eyes narrowing as he took in Min-jun's melodramatic display.
Min-jun's back arched off the mattress, his face buried deep in the pillow, muffled whimpers escaping — each sound heavy with unspoken ache.
With a flicker of annoyance, Chang-min picked up the stress ball he was holding and, with unerring aim, launched it at Min-jun. The soft projectile landed squarely on Min-jun's backside with a muted thud.
"Ouch..." Min-jun sat up with a jolt, rubbing his rear as he pouted like a scolded child.
"Stop fooling around and finish the paper," Chang-min snapped, his tone sharp but laced with a barely concealed thread of concern.
Min-jun turned to him with wide, imploring eyes, his lower lip jutting out in protest. "But I miss him so much."
"Like I said, you should have asked him for his phone number," Chang-min retorted, not even bothering to look up from his work.
"And like I emphasized," Min-jun huffed, his voice trailing into a whine, "I would have pestered Joon-ah to death."
"True. You almost did that to me," Chang-min muttered under his breath, his pen scratching steadily across the paper as he marked his answers with mechanical precision. "Except you'd be the one dead if you kept at it."
Min-jun watched Chang-min silently for a few heartbeats before lowering his gaze to the small fox keychain resting in his hand.
The tiny trinket looked lonely without its companion — the wolf.
How will I ever learn to let you go? Min-jun wondered, his chest tightening under the familiar, heavy ache of longing.
The final study week had arrived like a prison sentence, each hour dragging unbearably for Min-jun.
The oppressive silence of his home, combined with the ceaseless ache in his heart, had grown almost unbearable — until Chang-min arrived, his steady presence offering a fragile sense of normalcy.
Yet even as the hours slipped by in diligent study, Min-jun's mind refused to obey. It rebelled, flitting back again and again to the image of Seung-joon's gentle smile.
With every stray thought, the yearning inside him deepened, pulling him further and further away from the words printed on the pages before him.
He wanted so desperately to know Seung-joon better — to learn every tiny detail about him and his life.
And with every heartbeat, that quiet, impossible longing grew harder to silence.
The twins' vigilant care over Seung-joon was, in a strange way, a source of comfort for Min-jun — a reassurance that he was cherished and watched over.
Yet their protectiveness also wove tendrils of unease through Min-jun's thoughts, tightening their grip with each passing day.
Their anxious, almost aggressive reactions to any mention of Seung-joon left Min-jun haunted by a quiet, persistent sense of foreboding.
What was it about Seung-joon that demanded such fierce protection?
The question gnawed at him, unanswered, growing heavier the longer it lingered in the shadows of his mind.
Joon-ah, why are you such a mystery…
With a heavy sigh, Min-jun forced his attention back to his paper, struggling to drown out the growing knot of emotions tightening in his chest.
He could feel the weight of Chang-min's wary glances, the unspoken concern hanging thick in the space between them like an invisible tether.
Though it often grated on his nerves, Min-jun found comfort in Chang-min's steadfast presence — the quiet assurance that, no matter how messy things became, his stepbrother, his lifelong friend, would always be there, unwavering.
His mind drifted back to the day their parents were married thirteen years ago, a memory etched into him with bittersweet clarity.
That day had felt like a dream come true for Min-jun, who had always wished for an older brother.
At only five years old, Chang-min already exuded a maturity far beyond his age, his serious demeanor standing in stark contrast to Min-jun's boundless liveliness.
Min-jun had trailed after him like an eager puppy, his eyes wide with admiration and hope.
Yet, back then, Chang-min had barely acknowledged him — offering only the occasional reserved glance, distant and careful.
But curiosity had quickly turned to fear when Min-jun spotted Chang-min wandering dangerously close to the cliff's edge, where jagged rocks waited below, the waves crashing against them with relentless fury.
The moment Chang-min leapt, Min-jun's world froze — a single, breathless instant stretching into eternity — before instinct took over.
Without thinking, he lunged forward, his fingers closing around Chang-min's arm in a desperate, almost feral grip, his voice tearing from his throat, raw with terror.
"Hyung… No… No… Please climb back. Please… Please… Hyung…"
Min-jun's cries tore through the air, frantic and broken, as he clung to Chang-min with every ounce of strength he could summon, oblivious to the sharp sting of rocks scraping and cutting into his skin.
Blood smeared their arms, but Min-jun didn't care. All he knew was that he couldn't let go.
By the time the adults arrived, scrambling to pull them both to safety, Min-jun collapsed against Chang-min, trembling uncontrollably, his small hands still fisted tightly into his brother's shirt.
He stayed that way, locked in a tight embrace, until exhaustion finally claimed him.
In those last fading moments before darkness overtook him, he felt it — Chang-min's arms wrapping firmly around him, holding him just as tightly in return.
From that day onward, Chang-min had loved Min-jun with the fierce protectiveness of an older brother, though he stubbornly insisted on being called by his name.
Their bond, forged in that moment of peril, had only strengthened over the years, surviving even the distance when Chang-min moved out at fifteen.
To Min-jun, Chang-min was more than a brother—he was his heart, just as Seung-joon was his soul.
Min-jun's reverie ended abruptly when something soft struck his forehead. He looked up, rubbing the tender spot, only to find Chang-min watching him with an amused expression.
"Why does it always hurt to be around you?" Min-jun quipped, flashing a teasing grin — just before yelping in surprise as Chang-min lunged at him, tackling him to the floor with an impish glint in his eyes.
"Do you even know what real pain is? Let me show you," Chang-min declared, his fingers digging mercilessly into Min-jun's sides as he launched a relentless tickle attack.
"Hyung, please stop… Stop… I… I can't…" Min-jun gasped between fits of laughter, his voice breaking into helpless, breathless cries as he squirmed beneath Chang-min's playful assault.
For a fleeting moment, the heavy ache in Min-jun's heart lifted, replaced by the bright, unshakable warmth of the bond they had always shared — a bond strong enough to chase away even the deepest shadows.
***
Lately, Min-jun had been feeling increasingly anxious, as though each dragging day stretched into an endless, suffocating eternity.
It had been two weeks since he had last seen Seung-joon, and the weight of that absence gnawed at him relentlessly — a dull, persistent ache that refused to subside.
They had finished their final exams, and now, with graduation day looming just over the horizon, the strain in Min-jun's chest grew heavier with every passing hour.
He had resolved, firmly and painfully, not to confess his feelings. Yet now, Min-jun realized just how much strength it would take to keep that fragile promise.
The urge to tell Seung-joon the truth — to lay bare the depths of his heart — grew louder and more insistent with every fleeting moment, until it felt almost impossible to hold it back.
On graduation day, Min-jun expected little — just a fleeting glimpse of Seung-joon, perhaps a silent, unspoken goodbye to tuck away into memory.
But as the hours crawled by, Seung-joon remained conspicuously absent.
Panic bubbled beneath Min-jun's carefully maintained calm, clawing at the fragile edges of his composure.
Desperation surged through him, and by the time the ceremony ended, he was already moving — a blur of frantic motion.
He rushed home, barely remembering the journey, changed clothes in a flurry of nervous hands, and jumped into a taxi bound for D*.
His plan was simple — reckless, but simple: wait by the alley near Seung-joon's house until he returned from his afternoon classes.
No matter how long it took, Min-jun knew he had to see him — just once more.
Standing there, Min-jun found the dimly lit street suffocatingly quiet, the stillness pressing against him with a strange, heavy weight.
The fading afternoon light stretched shadows into grotesque shapes across the barren roads, twisting the familiar into something almost sinister.
Every flicker of movement, every distant sound seemed unnaturally loud, amplified by the eerie silence.
Just as Min-jun's patience was beginning to fray, a flicker of motion caught his eye — a man lingering at the far corner, half-shrouded in the gloom, attempting to blend into the background.
But his intent was unmistakable.
He wasn't merely loitering. He was watching. Waiting. Just like Min-jun.
Min-jun's breath hitched, his heart skipping a beat at the sight of Seung-joon walking down the road.
For a moment, everything else faded — the dim streets, the creeping shadows — until only Seung-joon's familiar silhouette remained, commanding all of Min-jun's attention.
But as Seung-joon passed the stranger lingering at the corner, dread twisted sharply in Min-jun's stomach.
The man's movements were too deliberate, his careful steps shadowing Seung-joon with a predator's patience.
Min-jun's chest tightened painfully. Even from across the distance, he could see it — the subtle shift in Seung-joon's expression, the calm giving way to fear.
The streets were unevenly lit, patches of ominous darkness breaking the illusion of safety, swallowing entire sections of the road.
Without thinking, acting purely on instinct, Min-jun sprinted into one of the shadowed alleys, positioning himself just ahead of Seung-joon's path.
As Seung-joon neared, Min-jun reached out, pulling him swiftly into his arms.
Before Seung-joon could cry out, Min-jun's hand covered his mouth, muffling the gasp of surprise against his palm.
"Joon-ah… it's me," Min-jun whispered, his voice trembling.
Seung-joon's wide, panic-stricken eyes locked onto Min-jun's, confusion flashing for a heartbeat before recognition broke through.
With a broken sob, Seung-joon buried his face in Min-jun's chest, his small frame shaking violently.
Min-jun wrapped his arms around him protectively, holding him close, his own pulse hammering fiercely.
From their cramped hiding spot behind a dumpster, Min-jun tracked the stranger's path, his gaze sharp and unblinking as the man scanned the deserted street with visible frustration.
After a tense stretch of time, the stranger finally moved on, his footsteps fading into the night.
Min-jun tightened his embrace instinctively, and without thinking, pressed gentle, desperate kisses into Seung-joon's hair — as if he could somehow shield him from the world with nothing but touch.
Only when the street outside fell completely silent did Min-jun ease back slightly, his arms still cradling Seung-joon, his eyes searching his pale, tear-streaked face.
"Joon-ah, can you walk?" Min-jun asked, his voice a hushed plea, barely louder than the breeze stirring the still night air.
"Yes, hyung…" came Seung-joon's soft, shaky reply.
They moved quickly but silently, Min-jun's firm grip steadying Seung-joon's faltering steps.
Seung-joon leaned heavily into him, his unsteady gait betraying the depth of his fear.
When they reached the base of the steep staircase leading to Seung-joon's home, Min-jun paused, reluctantly letting go Seung-joon's hand as he glanced at him with deep, unspoken concern.
"I'll wait here. Go."
"I'll wait here. Go," Min-jun whispered weakly.
But before Seung-joon could take a step, his legs buckled beneath him, trembling too much to carry him forward.
Without hesitation, Min-jun scooped him up, cradling him against his chest as if he weighed nothing at all.
Seung-joon clung tightly to him, his head burying itself against Min-jun's shoulder, warm tears soaking into the fabric of Min-jun's shirt.
Min-jun's eyes burned with unshed tears of his own, but he pushed them back, pressing forward, every step fueled by the singular, urgent need to get Seung-joon to safety.
At the doorstep, Min-jun gently set him down, one arm still wrapped firmly around Seun-joon's waist as he rang the bell.
Tae-min answered almost immediately, his sharp gaze flickering between them — a brief, calculating scan — before silently stepping aside to usher Seung-joon inside.
The door closed with a resonant thud, the finality of it leaving Min-jun standing alone beneath the harsh glow of the porch light, the empty space beside him colder than the night air.
Min-jun turned slowly, descending the stairs with leaden steps. His body felt drained, his movements mechanical, as if the adrenaline that had once fueled him had been replaced by a crushing, unbearable weight.
Halfway down, his legs buckled, and he sank heavily onto the steps, the cold seeping into his bones. His trembling hands fumbled clumsily for his phone, slipping once before he finally managed to grip it.
With a shaky breath, he dialed Chang-min's number.
"Ya. Where the hell are you?" Chang-min's sharp, worried voice snapped through the receiver.
"Hyung… I'm just outside Seung-joon's house," Min-jun murmured weakly, his words barely escaping his lips.
Before he could say more, the world tilted and dissolved into darkness.
***
Min-jun woke in a haze, the world around him blurry and unfocused, as if cloaked in mist. Slowly, the sight of Chang-min — his face pale and etched with worry — swam into view.
"Hyung, why the long face?" Min-jun murmured, his voice weak but carrying a faint attempt at humor as he managed a weary smile.
Chang-min's face darkened, a storm of anger flashing through his eyes. His cheeks flushed as he struggled to contain the torrent of emotions threatening to break free.
"Fool," Chang-min snapped, voice rough with barely restrained fear. "You almost gave me a heart attack. I thought those twins had beaten you to a pulp."
A sharp pang of pain lanced through Min-jun as Seung-joon's face flickered across his mind like a ghostly shadow.
"Hyung, I need to see Seung-joon," Min-jun said, desperation creeping into his voice as he tried to push himself up from the bed.
A jolt of pain shot through his skull, and he instinctively clutched his head, his fingers brushing against the coarse bandage wrapped tightly around his temple.
"You must have fallen on the stairs and hit your head," Chang-min said, his voice a brittle mix of sternness and worry. "You're in the hospital now. And you're not going anywhere."
"Hyung, please, I have to go," Min-jun pleaded, his body trembling like a fragile leaf in the wind.
"You're still on pain meds," Chang-min said, softer now, though his voice still trembled slightly.
"Hyung... take me to him."
With a resigned sigh, Chang-min relented, helping Min-jun change into fresh clothes.
By the time they arrived at D*, night had fallen like a velvet curtain, the streets bathed in the dim, flickering glow of tired streetlights. Chang-min handed his phone to Min-jun, showing him a number on the screen.
"Call him."
Min-jun took the phone with trembling hands, each ring pounding in his ears like a distant drumbeat, his breath coming in shallow bursts.
"Hello."
Seung-joon's voice, soft and achingly familiar, washed over Min-jun like a balm, stirring both comfort and pain.
"Joon-ah, it's me. Can you come down? I'm near your house."
"Okay, hyung."
Min-jun made his way down the narrow, rain-slicked alley leading to Seung-joon's home. The pavement gleamed under the scattered glow of the streetlights, and a fine mist began to fall, soaking the air with a cold, steady drizzle.
He spotted Seung-joon leaning against a weathered wall, absently dragging his slipper through the dirt-streaked ground, his head bowed.
The clouds hung low and heavy, and the drizzle softened everything around them, cloaking the world in a kind of fragile intimacy.
Min-jun approached, his heart hammering in his chest. He lifted a trembling hand to the wall above Seung-joon's head, shielding him from the falling rain.
Slowly, Seung-joon looked up, his deep blue eyes catching the faint light of a nearby streetlamp, shining like sapphires against the gloom. Tiny droplets clung to his lips, making them glisten faintly in the muted glow.
Min-jun's pulse quickened, his breath hitching as he mustered every ounce of courage, his voice a trembling whisper as he closed his eyes and said,
"Joon-ah... let me kiss you... just once…"
For a moment, he was terrified to open his eyes, fearing the rejection or disgust he might see in Seung-joon's face. But when he finally dared to, he felt Seung-joon's soft, damp lips press gently against his own. It lasted only a heartbeat, but for Min-jun, it felt like an eternity suspended in time.