Chapter 19: The Hideout

“Hyung, it’s your personal space.”

“Hmm?”

“It seems like my location doesn’t track well when I’m there.”

Both last Friday and today, whenever Min-woo said his location wasn’t being tracked, Min-hyeon had been in Jun-ho’s space. The corners of Min-hyeon’s mouth lifted as he quickly typed a reply to Min-woo.

15:54
I really didn’t turn it off. I guess it didn’t track well because I was inside a building.

Min-woo hyung
Call me as soon as you’re done. Don’t turn off GPS no matter what.
15:55

15:55
Got it

Even though Min-woo repeated the same nagging over and over, Min-hyeon didn’t feel annoyed. There was a place completely free from Min-woo’s surveillance—and on top of that, it was Jun-ho’s personal space. Even this coincidence felt like proof that something fated existed between him and Jun-ho, and Min-hyeon’s heart swelled.

“It’s a complete hideout, hyung—your personal space.”

“It’s not a hideout.”

“Yes it is! Let’s call it a hideout. I’m coming over to hang out.”

A naturally whining voice came out. His excited heart felt like a balloon puffing up and floating away. Seeing Min-hyeon practically radiating excitement with his whole body, Jun-ho chuckled.

“Sure. Come over whenever you’re bored.”

“You absolutely can’t take that back!”

Min-hyeon’s face, as he made Jun-ho promise again, was filled with undisguised anticipation.

“Can we just go in?”

Arriving in front of the main building, Min-hyeon whispered in a lowered voice. He’d never entered the main building since enrolling. He’d heard it housed the president’s office and administrative offices, but he’d never had reason to go there—so the main building was uncharted territory for Min-hyeon.

“It’s a school building—why wouldn’t we be allowed?”

Unlike the lecture halls and student center he frequented, the main building had an imposing atmosphere from the entrance that made people feel intimidated. The Gothic-style stone building was overwhelming just by its appearance. Jun-ho gently pushed Min-hyeon’s back as he hesitated, unable to enter confidently. Min-hyeon shuffled inside.

Unlike other buildings always buzzing with students’ chatter, the interior of the main building was quiet. Its solemn atmosphere made Min-hyeon clamp his mouth shut. Jun-ho also said nothing, and in the corridor where few people were present, only the sound of their footsteps echoed.

While Min-hyeon looked around curiously, Jun-ho walked without hesitation, like someone familiar with the layout. He naturally led Min-hyeon to the stairs and climbed first. Min-hyeon obediently followed.

The main building, built over eighty years ago, had much higher ceilings than other buildings—just like an old building should. Something about it being designated as some kind of cultural property meant they couldn’t renovate freely. There was no elevator, so they had to use the stairs. Because of the high ceilings, there were many steps—climbing one floor here felt like climbing 1.5 floors in other buildings.

The first couple of floors were fine, but trying to keep up with Jun-ho’s pace left him increasingly breathless. Min-hyeon tried his best to steady his breathing. But after passing the third and fourth floors at speed and reaching the fifth, even that hit its limit. Bracing his hands on his knees, Min-hyeon bent over and gasped.

When Min-hyeon, who had been following, stopped, Jun-ho—who had gone ahead—came back.

“Are you okay?”

“Huff, yes. I’m fine, huff, fine. Hoo.”

It was embarrassing to be the only one panting like this in front of Jun-ho, whose breathing hadn’t faltered at all. Min-hyeon tried to smile as if nothing was wrong, but it didn’t seem very convincing. Talking only made him more out of breath, so he focused silently on recovering his breathing.

After a moment, his pounding heart—which had felt like it might burst—began to settle. Min-hyeon straightened up, took a deep breath in, and slowly exhaled.

“I wasn’t usually this bad, but I haven’t been exercising much lately…”

He tried to make excuses to hide his embarrassment, but Jun-ho didn’t seem very convinced. With a gentle expression as if understanding everything, Jun-ho smiled.

“We just have one more floor to go—want to go a little slower?”

“…Yes.”

This time, Jun-ho stood beside Min-hyeon and climbed the stairs together. Min-hyeon glanced sideways at Jun-ho, who was matching his pace. His smooth face still showed no sign of sweat. He himself was still feeling a fair amount of side-stitch pain—yet Jun-ho, who had climbed the stairs so quickly, looked completely unbothered. It made him feel a little resentful.

‘If he’s perfect in every other way, couldn’t he at least be a little lacking in stamina?’

“What?”

Sensing Min-hyeon’s gaze, Jun-ho met his eyes. Min-hyeon spoke in a sulky voice.

“Hyung, I feel like you’re a different species from us.”

As if he’d heard something amusing, Jun-ho’s eyes narrowed into crescents.

“Was I being shameless again?”

“A little bit.”

“Why this time?”

“I don’t know.”

He didn’t want to be caught throwing a tantrum out of embarrassment that he was the only one struggling after climbing a few stairs. Min-hyeon deliberately moved more briskly.

The effort of climbing all the way to the sixth floor paid off. Fortunately, the rooftop door wasn’t locked. Grabbing the railing that came up past his waist, Min-hyeon looked down and let out a gasp.

“Wow. Looking from up here, it feels like my chest is opening up. It’s really great.”

Even though it was the same six-story height, the main building sat on higher ground and had taller ceilings, so he could see the lecture halls below. It was a fresh feeling to look down at buildings he’d only ever looked up at from below. Min-hyeon gazed across the wide campus, exclaiming in admiration.

“Min-hyeon.”

“Yes? Aah! Hyung! Are you already filming? Hold on! I’m not mentally prepared yet—!”

Turning around at Jun-ho’s call, Min-hyeon panicked and covered his face with his hands. A few steps away, Jun-ho was filming him.

“It’s okay. Just relax.”

“Ugh. All of this can be cut, right?”

“Yeah. So don’t worry.”

“Okaaay.”

Min-hyeon carefully lowered his hands from his face. After taking a deep breath, he stood with his fists clenched at his sides, in a stiff attention stance. Then, as if he’d changed his mind, he relaxed and asked with a perplexed expression.

“But what do I start with?”

“Start with introducing yourself.”

“Okay. Um. I’m Choi Min-hyeon.”

“Look at the camera and say it again.”

Min-hyeon’s eyes, which had been darting around unsure where to look, finally faced the camera straight on. He sniffled shyly and said his name again, a little more clearly.

“I’m Choi Min-hyeon. A freshman in the photography department.”

Pausing to think of what to say next, Min-hyeon couldn’t bear the awkwardness and scratched the back of his neck.

“Aaah. This is so awkward. I’ve never done anything like this before… I can’t think of anything to say at all. How am I supposed to reflect on my life?”

“Just say whatever comes to mind. We can edit it later.”

“Give me a moment to think.”

Min-hyeon crouched down and wrapped his head in his hands. Then he tapped his head lightly, chanting, “Think! Think!” But chanting wouldn’t magically make words appear. Pulling a grimace, Min-hyeon shot Jun-ho a pleading look. Jun-ho captured that too on camera.

“You’re even filming this?”

Taking his eye off the viewfinder, Jun-ho confirmed in a voice full of laughter.

“Yeah. I’m filming everything.”

“Hyung. That doesn’t seem right.”

“Why not? The way you’re thinking is full of humanity—it’s good.”

“I don’t need to find humanity in this—I’m already overflowing with it.”

When Min-hyeon put on a serious face, Jun-ho burst out laughing. Min-hyeon flopped down onto the ground entirely. Watching Jun-ho laugh so cheerfully, a smile crept out despite his embarrassment. Eventually, Min-hyeon laughed along awkwardly.

“This isn’t working. Hyung, help me. Is it because of the camera? I’m too nervous. I can’t think of anything.”

“Really? Hold on.”

Jun-ho came in front of Min-hyeon and sat down across from him. He rested the camera on his leg, adjusted the angle so Min-hyeon’s face would be in frame, and started recording again.

“If the camera bothers you, don’t look at it—look at me and talk.”

“Hmm. That might be hard in its own way. It’s a bit intimidating to look straight at you because you’re too handsome.”

“You’ve been looking at me just fine all this time—why now?”

“Because you’ve become newly handsome.”

After realizing his one-sided feelings, facing Jun-ho as if nothing had changed felt several times harder. The problem was that it was so good, so overwhelmingly good, that it was hard. He had no confidence he could face Jun-ho without blushing. Min-hyeon smiled with a strained, ambiguous expression.

“Then the only option is to keep looking and get used to it until it’s no longer new. Hang in there, Min-hyeon.”

“…I’ll do my best.”

Min-hyeon dropped his head. Jun-ho probably didn’t know—that saying things like that with an eye-smile only made it harder for people to get used to him.

“It’s really hot today. Haha. It’s so hot my face is burning up.”

Lifting his head, Min-hyeon blamed the weather for his flushed face. Jun-ho set the camera down on the ground and stood up. Then, before Min-hyeon could react, he cupped Min-hyeon’s warm cheeks with both hands. Min-hyeon reflexively braced himself on the ground to support his weight.

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