By Wednesday, Youn-jun had developed a strategy.
It was not a good strategy.
In fact, it was childish, unnecessary, and destined to fail.
Which was precisely why he committed to it.
He would create distance.
Nothing dramatic. Nothing obvious. Just enough space to prove—to Seung-min, to himself, to whatever invisible force had made the past week unbearable—that he was perfectly capable of existing without reacting every time Seung-min looked at him for half a second too long.
It was a strong plan.
It lasted until first period.
Jun entered the classroom determined and immediately found Seung-min asleep at his desk.
Not resting.
Actually asleep.
One arm folded beneath his head, tie loosened slightly, morning light catching in his hair. His face looked softer in sleep, stripped of its usual guarded calm. Younger. Tired.
Jun stopped walking.
Then, because the universe hated him, Seung-min's hand twitched once across the desk as if searching for something.
Jun crossed the room without thinking and set his pencil case under those wandering fingers.
Seung-min's hand settled on it instantly.
Jun stared down at himself in disgust.
"Pathetic," he muttered.
"What is?"
Jun nearly jumped. Their classmate Minho was standing beside him.
"Nothing."
"You're blushing at a sleeping person."
"I hate you."
Minho nodded. "Fair."
Jun marched to the back row and sat as far from Seung-min as physically possible.
When Seung-min woke ten minutes later, he looked around once, frowned faintly, and then found Jun in the corner.
Their eyes met.
Jun looked away so hard he almost injured himself.
---
Distance, Jun learned, was difficult when the other person simply ignored it.
At break, Seung-min sat beside him as usual.
At lunch, he placed Jun's preferred milk carton on the rooftop bench before Jun arrived.
After school, he stood by the gate holding Jun's umbrella because rain had started unexpectedly.
"You brought this?" Jun asked.
"You forgot yours."
"I was managing."
"You were damp."
"That is weather discrimination."
Seung-min handed him the umbrella. "Are you done being strange?"
"I'm never strange."
"You moved three seats away from me this morning."
"The lighting was better."
"You glared when I sat beside you."
"I glare naturally."
"You sighed when I gave you milk."
"I sigh at dairy."
Seung-min opened the umbrella and stepped under it without waiting.
Jun sputtered, then followed because being left alone in the rain would be humiliating.
They walked shoulder to shoulder beneath the narrow canopy.
Jun hated how normal it felt.
---
By Thursday afternoon, even Jun's friends had noticed.
"You're fighting?" one girl asked bluntly.
"No."
"You look like you're fighting."
"That's just his face," said another.
"My face is beloved," Jun snapped.
Across the classroom, Seung-min glanced up from his notes.
Jun glared on instinct.
Seung-min, infuriatingly, looked amused.
Jun nearly threw a pen.
---
That evening was supposed to be tutoring day.
Jun had mentioned Thursday offhandedly last week. Seung-min, being terrifyingly literal when convenient, had apparently treated it as law.
At four o'clock sharp, the doorbell rang.
Jun's mother opened it.
"Oh! Min-ah, come in."
Jun froze halfway down the stairs.
Seung-min stepped inside carrying a bag and two textbooks.
He looked up calmly. "You said Thursday."
Jun descended one step at a time. "You can't just appear at people's houses."
"I rang first."
"That is not the point."
Jun's mother beamed. "Perfect timing. Stay for dinner."
"I was invited to study," Seung-min said.
"You're invited to both."
She vanished kitchen-ward before objections could be formed.
Jun stared at him. "You're manipulative."
"You gave me a schedule."
"I mentioned a day."
"You confirmed it twice."
"I hate your memory."
"It's selective."
Jun snatched one textbook from his hands and stomped toward the dining table.
"Come suffer, then."
---
They studied for exactly twenty-six minutes.
Then Jun's sister asked Seung-min to fix the Wi-Fi.
Then Jun accused him of helping the enemy.
Then snacks arrived.
Then Jun forgot what chapter they were on because Seung-min had rolled his sleeves up while solving a problem and apparently the human mind was fragile.
By six-thirty, books lay abandoned between bowls of cut fruit and worksheets no one respected.
Jun was aggressively highlighting random paragraphs when Seung-min spoke.
"Why were you avoiding me?"
Jun drew a yellow line straight through an entire page.
"I wasn't."
"You were."
"I'm busy."
"You texted me seventeen times yesterday."
"That was logistics."
"You sent a photo of a cloud."
"It looked judgmental."
Seung-min waited.
Jun hated when he did that—stayed quiet until the truth became the loudest thing in the room.
"I just wanted…" Jun stopped.
"What?"
"Nothing."
Seung-min reached over and took the highlighter from his hand.
"You're ruining your textbook."
"It was expensive. Let me mourn creatively."
"Jun."
There was no pressure in the voice.
Which somehow made it harder.
Jun looked down at the table. "You've been weird."
"I've been normal."
"No. You've been..." He gestured vaguely. "Looking at me."
"I always look at you."
"That's different now."
Seung-min said nothing.
Jun's ears felt hot. "And saying things."
"What things?"
"Things like 'what this is.' Things no sane person says beside a parking lot."
A long pause followed.
Then Seung-min asked quietly, "Did it bother you?"
Jun opened his mouth.
Closed it.
Opened it again.
"Yes," he said finally.
Seung-min's expression tightened almost invisibly.
Jun panicked at once. "Not in a bad way."
That made things worse somehow.
He covered his face with both hands.
"I need to transfer schools."
Across from him, Seung-min laughed.
Not the small exhale Jun usually earned. A real laugh, low and startled and warm enough to make Jun drop his hands in shock.
"You're awful," Jun said weakly.
"You're impossible."
"You made me like this."
"I've known you since kindergarten. You were born like this."
Jun kicked his shin under the table.
Deservedly.
---
Dinner was noisy, crowded, and full of interruptions, which saved Jun from further humiliation.
But later, when Seung-min was leaving, Jun walked him to the gate.
Night air had settled cool around them. The streetlights glowed pale against damp pavement.
For once, Jun did not fill the silence immediately.
Seung-min stood beside him with hands in his coat pockets.
"You never answered," Jun said at last.
"About what?"
"Whether you've been weird on purpose."
"I have."
Jun turned sharply. "Why?"
Seung-min looked ahead at the quiet street.
"Because I wanted to see if you'd notice."
Jun's heart did something deeply unhelpful.
"And?"
"And you noticed."
"That's your conclusion?"
"It was enough."
Jun stared at him. "You are the most frustrating person alive."
"I know."
Another pause.
Then Jun muttered, "I noticed everything."
Seung-min's gaze shifted to him.
The street felt suddenly too still.
Jun looked away first, flustered by his own honesty.
"Go home," he said. "You're making the atmosphere strange."
Seung-min stepped back toward the gate.
"Thursday next week?" he asked.
Jun folded his arms. "Presumptuous."
"I'll take that as yes."
"You're insufferable."
"Yes."
Jun watched him walk down the road, calm as ever.
Only when Seung-min turned the corner did Jun realize he was smiling.
Again.
It was becoming a problem.