The days following that afternoon at the café were a blur. My mind was constantly occupied with the aftermath of Minho's words, and yet, I couldn't bring myself to face him properly. It wasn't that I didn't want to—no, that wasn't it at all. It was more like I was terrified of how close I had come to breaking, of how easily he had breached the walls I had spent years building.
I had tried to bury myself in my academic work, in club practices, in anything that would keep me from thinking about him. But it was impossible. Every time I closed my eyes, there he was, that ever-present ache of longing curling in my chest. Even now, as I sat at my desk late at night, the weight of his gaze felt like it was still on me, heavy and overwhelming.
I stared at the blank page in front of me, pencil in hand, trying to focus on my notes. But my thoughts kept slipping away, drifting back to him. His touch, his voice, the way his lips had curled into that soft, knowing smile as he'd left me standing in the café. It was driving me mad.
"Focus, Haru," I muttered under my breath, rubbing my eyes in frustration. But no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't push him away.
A sudden knock on the door interrupted my spiral.
I frowned, surprised by the unexpected visitor. "Who is it?"
"It's me," came Minho's voice, low and smooth, like velvet.
I froze. Why was he here?
I hesitated for a moment, my mind racing. Should I open the door? Should I pretend like I wasn't here? My heart hammered in my chest, and my palms began to sweat. But the truth was, I couldn't ignore him forever.
With a shaky breath, I stood up and opened the door. There he was, standing in the doorway, looking every bit as composed as he always did, like nothing was bothering him. But I could see it in his eyes—the way they flickered with something more than just casual interest.
"Minho?" My voice came out softer than I intended, but I couldn't stop myself. "What are you doing here?"
He didn't answer right away. Instead, he stepped inside, closing the door behind him with a quiet click. "I needed to talk to you," he said, his tone serious.
I crossed my arms, trying to hold myself together. "About what?"
He didn't seem to notice the tension in the air. Or maybe he did, but he was determined to push through it. "About us."
I swallowed hard, my heart sinking at his words. "Minho, I told you... I'm not ready for this. For whatever it is you're trying to make happen between us."
Minho's expression softened, his gaze not leaving mine. "I'm not asking you to be ready, Sunbae. I'm asking you to stop running from me."
"I'm not running," I snapped, my voice sharper than I meant it to be. "I just don't know what to do. You make everything so complicated. One minute you're teasing me, the next you're—" I stopped, feeling the heat rise to my face.
"Teasing you?" He stepped closer, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips, though his eyes were serious. "I'm not teasing you, Sunbae. I'm trying to figure this out too. You think this is easy for me? I've never felt this way before."
His words caught me off guard. "What are you talking about?" I murmured, suddenly feeling small in front of him.
Minho let out a breath, running a hand through his hair, a habit I'd come to recognize when he was frustrated. "I've been trying to figure out why I can't get you out of my head. Why every time you look at me, it feels like something inside me shifts. I'm not used to this. And I know I'm not making it easier for you, but Sunbae, I'm not going anywhere."
I couldn't meet his eyes. I could feel the intensity of his words, the weight of his sincerity, but I couldn't bring myself to accept them. Not yet.
"I don't know how to do this," I admitted quietly, my voice barely above a whisper. "I've spent my whole life avoiding things like this. I don't know how to deal with someone like you. Someone who... makes me feel like I can't think straight."
Minho's hand gently cupped my chin, lifting my gaze to meet his. The touch was so light, so tender, that it almost felt like a dream. "Maybe it's time you stopped trying to avoid it."
His words lingered in the air, and I could feel the tension between us growing, thick and electric. But I didn't pull away. I didn't move. I just stood there, trapped in the moment, my breath coming in shallow bursts.
"I... I can't just turn it off," I said, my voice shaking slightly. "I don't know what to do with all this."
Minho's thumb brushed over my bottom lip, the action soft but filled with a quiet intensity that made my heart race. "You don't have to do anything right now," he said softly. "Just let me be here. Let me be part of your life. One step at a time."
I closed my eyes, trying to steady my breathing. His proximity was dizzying, and every part of me wanted to step closer, to bridge the gap between us, but I couldn't. Not yet.
"I don't know if I can trust this," I said, my voice barely audible. "I don't know if I can trust you."
Minho's expression softened, and he nodded slowly, as if he understood exactly what I was saying. "That's okay. Trust takes time, Haru Sunbae. And I'm willing to give you all the time you need."
I took a deep breath, the weight of his words sinking in. Maybe he was right. Maybe it wasn't about rushing. Maybe it was about taking things slow, learning to trust each other, even if it terrified me.
"I don't know what happens next," I said finally, my voice steadier now. "But I'm willing to try."
Minho's eyes lit up, a smile tugging at his lips. "That's all I ask for."
The next few days were a blur, and yet, they felt different. There was a shift in the air when Minho and I were around each other. The tension was still there, thick and palpable, but there was something else now—a quiet understanding that neither of us was ready to face just yet, but we were both willing to try.
Our interactions had taken on a new dynamic. Whenever our eyes met across a room, I saw the weight of what we were both holding back. Minho wasn't just a source of irritation anymore. He was... something else. Something I couldn't define, and that was what scared me the most.
During a club meeting a few days later, Minho found an excuse to sit next to me. His usual teasing smile was absent, replaced with something more thoughtful, more serious. It was unnerving. But as the meeting progressed, I couldn't help but notice the subtle ways he would glance at me, his attention on me, even when others spoke. And every time our eyes met, a rush of warmth spread through me.
After the meeting, Minho walked with me to the campus gates, just like he used to. The evening air was cool, and the sun was beginning to set, casting long shadows over the path. It felt... different, but in a way that made my heart race. There was no teasing today. No provocation. Just the quiet rhythm of our footsteps.
"Are you sure you're okay?" he asked, breaking the silence.
I nodded. "I'm fine. Just... thinking."
"About what?"
I hesitated, unsure of how to put it into words. "About how everything's changed," I said slowly. "About how... I feel like I'm falling behind. I can't keep up with myself."
Minho stopped walking, his gaze intense as he looked at me. "You're not falling behind, Sunbae. You're just... figuring things out. We both are."
I stared at him, my breath catching. I could see the sincerity in his eyes, and for the first time in a long time, I believed him.
He reached out and gently took my hand, his touch warm and reassuring. "Whatever happens, I'm here. And I'll be here for as long as you need me."
We stood there for a while, our hands intertwined, neither of us speaking. I didn't know what this was, or what it was going to become, but for the first time in days, I felt like I was standing on solid ground.
And maybe that was enough—for now.