Chapter 24: Part 2. Yoonwoo’s Perspective II

It took time for the past memories to gently fade. This process was prolonged by the sheer volume of recollections scattered across the campus, despite nothing truly having begun.

Strolling along the campus lakeside, Yoonwoo eventually let out a sigh. Couples sharing paper cup affogatos were visible everywhere, a sight that invariably caught his eye. Despite having attended the university for three years, Yoonwoo had only tasted the treat when Yeon-chae bought it for him; seeing its widespread popularity now, he realized it must have been a famous item.

He considered buying a paper cup affogato, given his proximity, but ultimately dismissed the thought. He knew there would come a day when he could purchase one without a second thought. Yet, for now, much like his reluctance to play tennis, he found himself with no desire for the sweet treat.

His last visit, a year prior, had been amidst the riotous bloom of spring. The world around him had been awash in soft hues, radiating a brilliant glow.

But the memories he now recalled had already bleached, much like an aged photograph. Emotions he hadn’t even realized were blossoming had frozen solid with the onset of winter, shattering into countless fragments. Then, as the cold season gradually receded, those feelings had completely disappeared.

As Yoonwoo walked towards the lecture hall, his thoughts drifted back to the preceding winter.

After a severe illness struck him at the year’s end, he had shed a noticeable amount of weight. He hadn’t been able to eat properly for some time, due to an acute sensitivity to smells.

Each time Jinwoo and Kangwoo called, inquiring about his health, Yoonwoo would answer candidly. This honest response inevitably led to them taking turns to fuss, urging him to visit a hospital.

Yet, when his illness was at its worst, it had been the Christmas holiday, leaving no hospitals open. Afterwards, he had merely felt a little heavy, a sensation he could endure on his own.

His condition slowly but surely improved as the days ambiguously passed.

Then, the new semester commenced.

Unlike the previous year, when Yeon-chae had been a ubiquitous presence across campus, Yoonwoo did not encounter him even once by the end of the first week. A faint ache would throb slightly in his left chest if he pressed it, a testament to a subtle sense of loss. Yet, after a few more days, even that dull pain began to subside and heal.

It appeared that the heart, too, was capable of growing new skin over its wounds.

The vast lecture hall was teeming with students. Although several of his classmates were enrolled in the same course, he found it too awkward to navigate the crowded room to find them.

Instead, he simply chose an empty seat towards the back. As he settled in and took a breath, he sensed a presence beside him. Casually, Yoonwoo glanced up.

“Oh…”

Over the past several months, Yoonwoo had frequently envisioned an accidental encounter with Yeon-chae. Given their status as senior and junior in the same university department, such a meeting was inevitable. His primary concern had always been what expression to adopt, or whether he could truly maintain a facade of nonchalance.

Then, a sudden realization struck him. Yoonwoo had no legitimate reason to feel awkward around Yeon-chae, nor any fresh cause to avoid him. He had been acting as though he’d suffered a heartbreak from Yeon-chae, despite the fact they had never even dated. From start to finish, Yeon-chae had simply been a friendly junior.

The only distinction now was that he was merely a slightly less close junior.

“May I sit here?”

The voice, heard after a prolonged absence, inquired softly. After a brief, almost imperceptible hesitation, he added,

“…Senior.”

Not merely “senior,” but “Senior-nim.”

His expression was as cool and distant as the unfamiliar honorific and flat, even tone. Yoonwoo flinched, startled, then hastily gathered the writing tools he had spread across the adjacent seat. “No, sit,” he managed, clearing the space, and heard a soft thud as Yeon-chae settled beside him. Yoonwoo quietly retreated, almost crumpling into the corner of his own seat.

No greeting of “long time no see” was exchanged. An awkward silence settled between them.

‘Are you taking this class too? How have you been? I haven’t been doing well, but seeing that you’re still handsome, you must have been doing fine. Did you enjoy eating well and living well on your own?’

Yoonwoo swallowed these myriad thoughts, keeping them confined to his mind.

The lecture commenced swiftly. Yoonwoo earnestly attempted to focus solely on the screen displaying the course materials. Yet, he soon found he couldn’t resist, his gaze flickering sideways to the seat beside him.

Yeon-chae appeared to have lost a bit of weight. Perhaps that was why he seemed slightly taller. Or had he genuinely grown? Having only just turned twenty-one, he might still be in a growth spurt.

His cheeks, which had once been rather plump, had slimmed, revealing a more sharply defined jawline. Splinters of sunlight now rested upon his long, thick eyelashes. His fair, smooth skin and distinct features remained as radiant and beautiful as ever.

Unconsciously, Yoonwoo found his hand extending towards that refined profile. The soft, mochi-like feel of Yeon-chae’s cheek gently brushed against his fingertips. Slowly, Yeon-chae turned his head, his gaze meeting Yoonwoo’s. It was only then that Yoonwoo fully comprehended his impulsive action, a shiver running through his shoulders.

Their gazes met in the air. Yeon-chae’s light brown eyes, rendered translucent by the light, remained utterly serene.

“Ah, my apologies. There was a lash clinging to you…”

Yoonwoo offered the eyelash, now clinging to his index finger, as irrefutable evidence. Yeon-chae simply stared, a blank expression on his face, at the finger extended before him, then pursed his lips and exhaled a soft puff of air. Yeon-chae’s breath caressed Yoonwoo’s fingertip. Then, he withdrew his gaze, which had momentarily lingered on Yoonwoo, and refocused on the lecture podium.

The lecture hall was utterly silent. Only the distant, low murmur of the professor’s voice resonated from the podium. The thumping of his own heart pounded loudly in Yoonwoo’s ears. Yeon-chae, absorbed in taking notes, would occasionally lift his head to offer a faint smile whenever the professor made a joke.

The smile that graced his plump, crimson lips remained as bright as ever.

Yoonwoo bit his lower lip, lowering his head. A sudden, inexplicable surge of emotion welled within him, threatening to constrict his throat.

The lecture was scheduled twice a week. Surprisingly, Yeon-chae had evidently not changed his course, as Yoonwoo continued to spot him repeatedly thereafter. Yoonwoo, who had naturally assumed Yeon-chae would drop the class, felt a touch of embarrassment. It was an event that had seemingly left Yeon-chae entirely unaffected, yet Yoonwoo had been behaving as if he’d endured a profound heartbreak all on his own.

Yeon-chae had grown close with a new senior he met during the semester, only for their bond to wane over the vacation. To Yeon-chae, his relationship with Yoonwoo had likely been of a similar transient nature.

After that initial side-by-side encounter, Yeon-chae had sat behind Yoonwoo once, then in front of him, and now, once again, he was seated beside him as if it were the first day. No significant conversation had ever transpired between them. When their eyes met, a brief, light acknowledgment would pass.

Once class concluded, Yeon-chae would invariably stride away with his long legs, vanishing before Yoonwoo even had a chance to speak. The chasm that had opened between them over the past year was indeed vast.

‘There’s nothing to say, anyway.’

With a bitter pang, Yoonwoo stole a glance at Yeon-chae beside him. Over the indifferent, cool facade that stared straight ahead, a faint smile, one he had occasionally shown in the past, seemed to shimmer like a phantom. There was a time when he could frequently witness such expressions without having to resort to stolen glances during lectures.

Suddenly, a gentle spring breeze drifted through the open classroom window. A long current of air caressed his neck, carrying with it a faint, mingled scent of flowers.

The sweet, bright fragrance felt strangely familiar. After a moment of rummaging through his memories, he recalled the lingering scent of perfume that had once emanated from Yeon-chae. It was from last Christmas Eve.

Recalling that day, a dull ache tightened within his chest. Perhaps due to the lingering chill in the air, he also felt a slight fever beginning to rise. ‘Was it a cold coming on?’ Yoonwoo wondered, tilting his head as he instinctively pressed a hand to his forehead.

At that precise moment, Yeon-chae swept his bangs back with a hand, his gaze briefly flicking to Yoonwoo.

The floral scent, which had been subtly diffusing through the air, abruptly intensified. Amidst its bright notes, a sweet, milky fragrance seemed to seep in from somewhere. Though faint and elusive, this new scent was undeniably soft. Simultaneously, Yoonwoo’s tense body relaxed, and his heart began to pound. Feeling an unsettling strangeness, he exhaled a series of quick, shallow breaths.

Yoonwoo was still struggling to steady his breathing, his head bowed low.

From the corner of his eye, he saw Yeon-chae’s gaze flutter. A look of surprise quickly crossed his handsome face. His fair cheeks seemed to flush slightly. The nape of his neck, visible above his sweater, was distinctly red. Yoonwoo’s eyes widened in silent astonishment. Yet, the gaze that had almost met his own quickly averted, dropping to the classroom floor.

The intensified floral scent had vanished as quickly as it appeared. Breathing a little easier, Yoonwoo straightened his posture. When he looked back at Yeon-chae, the subtle expression that had just appeared on his face was already gone.

That day, the College of Business Administration held its freshman welcoming party. It was the very event where Yoonwoo had first met Yeon-chae a year ago. Although he had no desire to go, his arms were, as always, amicably seized by his classmates. Yoonwoo was practically dragged towards the pub where the welcoming party was taking place.

“Ah, why? I said I don’t want to go. I feel a bit feverish, and my throat hurts too…”

He feigned a cough, and Woo-jae gave him an incredulous look. While the cough was fake, he genuinely felt a fever, or so he imagined. Yoonwoo flapped his arms, protesting the grip of his classmates, feeling unfairly treated.

“Why are you suddenly refusing to go? You always attend events.”

Sangwoo, walking beside him, abruptly asked. Woo-jae also raised an eyebrow. As his close friend Woo-jae was the class representative, Yoonwoo rarely missed such events, and he himself was usually eager to participate. Receiving his classmates’ puzzled stares, Yoonwoo felt a little awkward.

“Uhm, well…”

“You should see the first-year students’ faces. I heard a lot of alumni are coming too.”

“That’s right. You said you wanted to see the older guys.”

“That’s true…”

There were faces he wanted to see, but also faces he didn’t. Or, to be precise, the problem was that there were faces he wanted to see, and a face he wanted to see even more.

Yoonwoo, feeling downcast, recalled Yeon-chae from the afternoon lecture. If he opened the entrance door before him and stepped inside, he would undoubtedly encounter Yeon-chae again. Facing that cool expression on Yeon-chae’s handsome face was proving far more difficult than he had anticipated.

“So let’s go in quickly. It’s getting cold at night.”

“Yeah. It’s still chilly.”

Sangwoo and Woo-jae chimed in, urging him on. Yoonwoo reluctantly nodded.

After all, it was a face he would inevitably encounter often in the future. Yoonwoo removed his classmates’ hands from each of his arms, took a deep breath, and then pushed open the pub’s entrance door.

The thick glass door creaked open.