The morning sunlight filtered through the classroom window, painting desks in pale gold. Dust drifted in the air, glowing softly in the light. Jungtae sat by the window, elbow on the desk, his cheek pressed to his palm as his gaze drifted outside.
The sound of his classmates murmurs faded into the background. All he could see was that image replaying behind his eyes. The restroom door creaking open, Cha Haneul stumbling out, red-faced and covered in hickeys. And Owen, leaning by the sink, that smirk on his face never leaving his mind.
Even now, just remembering that voice, "Oh, it's you." made irritation burn under his skin.'What were they even doing in there? So he has a side like that? Not surprised.'
A sudden flick to his forehead snapped him back.
"Why are you spacing out again?" Woojin's voice carried that mix of concern and mild exasperation.
Jungtae blinked, rubbing the sore spot. "Ahh… nothing. Just… thinking about stuff."
"Stuff, huh?" Woojin leaned against his desk, brows knitting together. "You've been spacing out lately. If something's bothering you, you can tell me. You know that, right?"
Jungtae's lips curved into a faint smile. He'd heard those words from Woojin countless times, soft, patient, dependable. The kind that kept him still.
'He always says that. To rely on him. To tell him everything. Still… I'm just glad he's here.'
"Really, it's nothing serious. Just tired."
Woojin studied him, eyes lingering longer than usual before sighing, his shoulders easing. "Fine. But don't bottle things up too much."
Jungtae chuckled quietly. "You too, you know."
He changed the subject with a gentle nudge, his tone lighter. "How's your aunt doing? Still overworking herself?"
Woojin's expression softened, a small, distant smile touching his lips. "Yeah. She's okay. Keeps checking up on me even if she's busy, though." He gave a quiet laugh, but there was something in his eyes, a flicker of something unreadable, hesitant, jaw shifting as if he'd rather stay silent about her. Jungtae couldn't name it.
ৎ────
Inside the teacher's office, the faint hum of the air conditioner filled the silence. Owen sat casually on the edge of the teacher's desk, swinging one leg lazily. His smirk never wavered as the homeroom teacher shuffled through a stack of papers, pretending not to notice how he was watching her.
"So… you're saying that kid, Han Jungtae, got into this school through recommendation?" His tone was light, but the glint in his eyes said otherwise.
The teacher hesitated, fingers tightening on her pen. "Yes, though I'm not sure you should be asking about other students…"
"Oh, come on, teacher," Owen said, leaning closer. "Anyway, that watch you're wearing looks good on you. It's one of the gifts my father gave to all the teachers here last week… right?"
Her movements froze then gulped. The pen stopped scratching. A bead of tension crept down her neck.
"I was just curious," Owen continued smoothly, his grin widening. "He seems different."
The teacher sighed, shoulders sagging. "He's a good kid. Works hard despite his situation. His friend Woojin was the one who recommended him here."
Owen tilted his head. "Woojin? The quiet one?"
"Yes. Woojin's a bright boy, though…" She hesitated, her voice softening. "He's been through a lot."
Something sharpened in Owen's expression. "What do you mean?"
"I shouldn't be telling you this." The teacher hesitated.
"Come on, teacher. Don't cut the information now."
"Well… his parents died when he was eleven," she murmured. "A fire accident, I think. He's been living with his relative ever since."
For a second, the smirk fell away, replaced by seriousness. His gaze flicked toward the window, eyes darkening like he'd just remembered something. A fire accident.
Then the grin returned, slower this time, spreading across his face. "Thanks, teacher," he said easily, hopping off the desk. "I appreciate the info."
As he stepped out into the hallway, the noise of chattering students filled the air. But Owen's mind was somewhere else, circling the names Jungtae and Woojin like puzzle pieces.
'Poor, hardworking, and friends with a boy who has a tragic past.'
His lips curved upward. 'Ha… you really attract me, don't you, Han Jungtae?'
ৎ────
The rest of the day dragged by, the hours blurring into dull sunlight and restless whispers. When the final bell rang, the school erupted into motion, chairs scraping, laughter bouncing off the walls.
Jungtae and Woojin walked side by side, their shadows stretching long across the pavement as the sun dipped lower.
The sudden roar of an engine made both of them glance up. A sleek black car shot past, stopping briefly by the gate. Owen's face appeared through the tinted window, eyebrows furrowed, jaw tight, irritation carved deep into his features. He slammed the door and sped off, tires screeching.
"What's up with that guy?" Jungtae muttered.
Woojin gave a shrug. "Who cares?"
They rounded a corner, and there, slumped on the sidewalk, was the same old man from yesterday. His clothes hung in tatters, eyes hollow but faintly hopeful when he saw them.
"Oh, it's him again," Jungtae said, already reaching for his wallet. He pulled out a few bills that came from his savings. "Here."
"Again?" Woojin sighed, though a small smile tugged at his mouth.
Jungtae crouched and handed the man 2,000 won, his voice soft. "Buy something for you to eat, grandpa."
The old man's eyes watered as he bowed his head. "You're too kind, son. Thank you."
Woojin watched for a beat, then reached into his own pocket and offered another 2,000 won. "Here, grandpa."
Jungtae blinked, surprised. "Woojin, you didn't have to…"
Woojin only shrugged, smiling faintly. "I want to be like Jungtae."
The old man's thanks followed them as they walked away. For a moment, the noise of the world seemed to fade, replaced by the quiet warmth of simple kindness.
At the crossroads, Woojin slowed to a stop.
"You're going to work again, right?"
"Yeah. Same as usual. Don't wait for me."
"Don't stay up too late, okay?"
"I'll try."
ৎ────
The convenience store lights buzzed softly, bathing the aisles in pale yellow. The air carried the familiar scent of instant ramen and newly delivered food.
Hanna waved lazily from behind the counter. "You're here. Finally, you're about seven minutes late. Thought you ditched your shift."
"Sorry, Noona. I was walking with a friend."
"Ohh. Woojin?"
He nodded.
"Good kid, that one. You're lucky." She nudged his shoulder lightly before turning back to her phone.
Jungtae only smiled faintly and slipped into his vest.
Hours passed in a rhythm, the scanner's beep, the hum of the fridge, the occasional customer. Around seven, as he restocked the shelves, something outside caught his eye.
The old homeless man again, sitting on the curb, unwrapping a piece of bread.
"Huh? Did he… follow me here?" Jungtae muttered, stepping outside with a bottle of water in hand. "Here, drink this."
The old man looked up, eyes crinkling. His fingers trembled as he accepted it. "You're a good boy, really… the world needs more people like you."
Warmth bloomed in Jungtae's chest. "Take care, okay?"
As he turned to go back in, a sudden chill slid down his spine. The night air felt heavier. The back of his neck prickled. Someone was watching him.
He scanned the street. Only the flicker of a lamp post, the faint hum of cars far off. No one.
"...That's weird," he muttered, shaking off the unease.
That night, after clocking out, he stopped by the bakery again, grabbing rice cakes before heading home. The streets stretched quiet under the streetlights, the wind carrying whispers through the leaves.
At home, his mother was asleep on the couch, her hand resting on a pile of folded laundry. Jungtae draped a blanket over her and tiptoed toward his grandfather's room.
"Grandpa? You're still awake?"
The old man stirred, his eyes opening to a tired smile. "You're home late again, boy."
"Yep. Work went longer than usual."
He chuckled weakly. "You should learn to rest. Don't overwork yourself like your father did."
Jungtae set the rice cakes on the bedside table. "I'm fine. Here, I bought your favorite."
The old man smiled, though he didn't reach for them. "You're wasting your youth worrying about me, Jungtae. Don't you ever think of yourself? I'll die sooner or later, so don't waste your strength on an old man like me."
"Grandpa…"
He patted Jungtae's hand, laughing softly. "I'm joking. But really…think about yourself first."
Jungtae smiled faintly, though his chest tightened. "I will."
Later that night, he lay in bed, staring at the ceiling. The echo of his grandfather's words, Woojin's quiet smile, and Owen's piercing stare tangled together in his thoughts. The world outside seemed to hold its breath.
ৎ────
Morning came gray and cool. As Jungtae laced up his shoes, voices drifted in from the street. A commotion.
Curiosity tugged at him. When he turned the corner, a small crowd had gathered near a house.
"What happened?"
"A dog… someone killed it."
Jungtae froze. The murmurs faded beneath the ringing in his ears. He pushed closer, just enough to see, and wished he hadn't.
A mangled dog lay in the dirt, its body grotesquely cut open. A crude piece of cardboard half-covered it, buzzing with flies. No one claimed to be the dog's owner, it must have been a stray dog.
His stomach lurched. "What the hell!?"
"Who on earth did something like this?" A passerby said.
"How cruel…" someone whispered.
He turned away sharply, bile rising in his throat. The image clung to him, refusing to fade even hours later.
At lunch, he sat by the window, his chopsticks untouched, food cold. Woojin noticed instantly.
"You okay? You look pale."
"I saw something awful this morning."
"What happened?"
Jungtae told him, voice low. Woojin's eyes widened, his expression tightening with quiet sadness. "That's… disgusting. Who would do something like that?"
"Yeah. It's terrible," Jungtae murmured. "It's like the world's losing its mind."
Silence stretched between them, heavy, uneasy. Then the intercom crackled.
"Attention, students!" The cheerful voice filled the air, it was Cha Haneul's, the student council president. Just hearing it made Jungtae's jaw tighten.
"The senior field trip will be held next week! Please check your homeroom boards for more details! And prepare in advance."
The room buzzed with chatter and excitement. Woojin nudged Jungtae lightly. "A field trip, huh? Maybe you could finally relax a little."
Jungtae leaned back, eyes drifting toward the sunlight spilling over the windowsill. "Yeah… maybe."
But even as he said it, that strange feeling lingered, the quiet sense that trouble was waiting, just beyond the edge of his calm.