Chapter 2: Found

Arriving at school much later than usual, Min-hyeon hurried out of the car. He followed the stream of students heading toward the lecture building, walking briskly. But he’d barely taken a few steps before he was stopped.

“Hyung, I’m late.”

Sighing, Min-hyeon slowly turned around. Min-woo approached with his phone in hand.

“I told you to take care of your phone and not drop it.”

Min-hyeon reached out to take it, but Min-woo pulled his hand back instead.

“Ah, I forgot.”

Min-hyeon gave an awkward smile. Min-woo frowned slightly at that. Gripping the phone firmly, he spoke in a stern voice.

“This isn’t a joke. Tell me where you’re going, contact me immediately if anything happens, and call me right after class ends.”

As Min-hyeon’s back-and-forth with Min-woo dragged on, passersby glanced at them. Noticing the stares, Min-hyeon bit his lip lightly. When he reached out his hand again, Min-woo finally handed over the phone without resistance.

“Fine, just hurry back to the store. What kind of boss doesn’t work and just runs around all day?”

Min-woo looked thoroughly unconvinced but obediently returned to the car. Before getting in, he turned back to look at Min-hyeon once more.

“Anyway, I’ll come pick you up right after class, so don’t go anywhere and come out when I call.”

“Got it.”

Min-hyeon nodded meekly. After Min-woo left, having delivered one last piece of advice—”Don’t run, be careful”—that sounded like something you’d say to a kindergartener, Min-hyeon hung his head deeply.

“So embarrassing, seriously.”

Muttering to himself even though no one was listening, he hurried into the lecture building. He was on the verge of being late.

Afraid of accidentally making eye contact with anyone, Min-hyeon kept his nose practically buried in his phone as he climbed the stairs diligently—until he missed the last step and stumbled.

“Ah!”

With a loud thud, Min-hyeon fell and let out a short groan. Students coming up behind him passed by, whispering as they stepped around him.

“Whoa.”

“Ouch. That must really hurt.”

His luck was terrible from the morning. Min-hyeon felt like he could bite his own tongue. He was making a fool of himself in every possible way. His ears burned with embarrassment.

Too mortified to even lift his head, he remained crouched—until he saw a pair of black loafers stop right in front of his hands resting on the floor.

Min-hyeon slowly raised his head. The first thing that caught his eye was a pair of seemingly endless long legs. Only after craning his neck all the way back could he finally see the face of the tall man—a face he recognized.

Min-hyeon stared blankly up at Jun-ho. Even standing against the backlight, his face seemed to glow. Seeing head-on for the first time the face he’d always sneaked glances at from the corner of his eye—his impression was, in a word: ‘He doesn’t look human.’

‘How can a person look like that?’

It was a face that defied reality. Was he really human? Min-hyeon forgot all about his sprawled position on the stairs, mesmerized by his face.

Jun-ho slowly bent his knees and extended his hand to Min-hyeon. Min-hyeon’s gaze followed, moving to his hand.

His straight-knuckled, long fingers looked like a sculpture. What kind of feeling would it give if he saw this hand through a viewfinder? Even without any particular skill, just snapping a photo as is would probably produce a masterpiece in itself. It was a hand that felt delicate despite being quite large.

‘How can this guy’s hands be handsome too?’

It wasn’t until Jun-ho’s hand came right up to his nose that Min-hyeon snapped back to his senses a little. He carefully took Jun-ho’s hand. Somehow, his own hand seemed to be trembling slightly. Jun-ho’s cool hand gently pulled him up, slowly raising him to his feet.

‘Of all situations to run into him, why this one?’

On top of that, he’d even received help from him. Min-hyeon wasn’t sure whether to be happy about it or mortified. What was certain was that the shame was far greater right now.

Min-hyeon tried to subtly pull his hand back from Jun-ho’s grasp. But instead of letting go, Jun-ho pulled him closer.

“Uh, excuse me. Could you please—”

“You’re bleeding.”

At Jun-ho’s words, Min-hyeon looked down at his palm. He must have scraped it on the stairs when he fell—his palm was chafed in several places, with droplets of blood beading up.

Flustered, Min-hyeon tried to pull his hand away again, but the grip around his wrist was too firm.

Min-hyeon looked up at Jun-ho. But Jun-ho wasn’t looking at him. His eyes were fixed on Min-hyeon’s wound.

The long fingers that had been wrapped around his wrist with surprising strength—unfitting for their elegant shape—relaxed slightly. Before Min-hyeon could pull away, Jun-ho raised his other hand and slowly rubbed the blood on the wound.

Min-hyeon’s body went rigid. Everywhere Jun-ho’s fingers brushed, it grew hot as if flowers of fire were blooming. After lingeringly stroking the wound, Jun-ho suddenly pressed down firmly.

“Ngh!”

Min-hyeon reflexively knocked Jun-ho’s hand away. A sharp, tingling pain spread across the spot where Jun-ho’s roughly pushed-aside fingers had grazed. Min-hyeon bit his lip. A tiny tear welled at the corner of his eye.

Jun-ho stared at Min-hyeon silently. His face was expressionless, yet his eyes seemed to hold some strange ripple.

Facing those deep eyes that he’d never properly met before, Min-hyeon felt his entire face—ears, neck, everything—burning as if on fire.

“Th-thank you!”

Unable to hold his gaze any longer, Min-hyeon bowed his head deeply and fled the spot in a flash.

With his eyes fixed on Min-hyeon’s retreating back, Jun-ho slowly brought his hand to his lips. Between his red lips, a tongue even redder emerged and languidly licked the blood from his hand. Jun-ho’s eyes drifted lazily beneath his eyelids. He murmured lowly.

“…Found you.”

Rushing into the restroom in a daze, Min-hyeon exhaled raggedly. His heart felt like it was about to burst. Every step he’d taken running away from Jun-ho had been a frenzy of confusion and embarrassment, leaving him breathless.

After catching his breath for a moment, Min-hyeon sighed as if the ground might cave in and turned on the water.

“Ouch.”

The wound stung as it met the running water. Min-hyeon stared blankly at his blood being washed away by the gentle stream. The red blood, which had spread murkily mixed with water, stopped sooner than expected.

After cleaning it thoroughly, the wound on his palm was surprisingly minor compared to the amount of blood that had been on it. Why did so much blood have to come out over something so trivial?

The injured area quickly swelled red. Min-hyeon touched it. Then, just as Jun-ho had done, he stroked it gently. Even though he’d held it under cold water for a long time, the heat hadn’t cooled at all—it radiated fully. The sensation of Jun-ho pressing on the wound was still vivid.

Jun-ho’s incomprehensible actions. The look in his eyes as he stared straight at him.

Suddenly, the back of his neck felt icy. Min-hyeon shook his head vigorously from side to side, shaking off the strange feeling. He washed his hands one more time for no reason and dried them with paper towel, then remembered that Jun-ho must have gotten blood on his hands too.

‘He got blood on his hands too—what should I do? Should I at least bring him some tissue?’

If only he’d carried wet wipes, or at least a handkerchief.

Min-hyeon looked at the paper towel and hesitated for a moment. But the blood was probably already dry and crusted—it didn’t seem like that would wipe it off.

His deliberation didn’t last long. He was already cutting it close, and falling on the stairs had made things worse—class had likely already started. Min-hyeon hurried toward the lecture hall.

He’d barely managed to say thank you before running away, and of all things, this was a class he shared with Jun-ho. On top of that, the seating was assigned, so he had to sit right in front of Jun-ho. Min-hyeon swallowed hard. Then he carefully opened the back door and entered the lecture hall.

Fortunately, the professor entered through the front door at almost the same time. Min-hyeon couldn’t go straight to his seat and hesitated for a moment. Only after receiving a glare from the professor did he shuffle reluctantly to his seat.

Because of what had happened earlier, Jun-ho’s presence felt several times more overwhelming than usual. He happened to be sitting diagonally in front, so he could see Jun-ho with just a slight turn of his head—but Min-hyeon couldn’t bring himself to move.

Did he wipe off the blood? Earlier, when he’d come to his seat, he’d tried hard to sneak a look at Jun-ho’s hands out of the corner of his eye, but he couldn’t see clearly.

‘I must have seemed completely baffling, suddenly doing that and running away—should I properly greet him again after class?’

The professor’s words weren’t registering at all. Every nerve in Min-hyeon’s body was focused on Jun-ho behind him. Even the faint scratch of a pen from behind made him flinch, and he had to fight to keep his body from turning around.

I wonder if Jun-ho can see me fidgeting from behind and thinks it’s funny.

Min-hyeon suddenly straightened his posture. But soon, unable to overcome his restlessness, he started spinning his pen.

“Oh.”

The pen he normally spun without issue dropped before even completing one rotation today. It was because of the wound on his palm.

It felt like his heart had dropped along with the pen. Praying silently, he slowly turned around—his pen had fallen at Jun-ho’s feet.

Min-hyeon tried his best not to look at Jun-ho as he bent down. But Jun-ho was a little quicker. Seeing those long, pale fingers pick up the pen first, Min-hyeon awkwardly straightened back up.

Their eyes met. For some reason, Jun-ho’s expression seemed to Min-hyeon like he was smiling slightly. He held out the pen to Min-hyeon. Min-hyeon bowed his head as he took it. Their fingertips brushed lightly. Min-hyeon flinched.

‘Why am I like this today, seriously?’

First thing this morning, he falls right in front of him. Then he drops his pen without even managing to spin it properly.

Min-hyeon sat up unnaturally straight. Not that this would make up for anything, but he still wanted to at least show a composed side of himself.

Holding the pen in the same orientation he’d received it from Jun-ho—backwards—he sat perfectly still like that until the lecture ended.

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