Chapter 7: The Baseball Incident

For a moment, Min-hyeon thought he was being pulled into an embrace. He flinched, hunching his shoulders. Even when he was just standing still, that face alone was hazardous to his heart—and now this person was lifting and dropping his heart as he pleased.

“Let’s go. I reserved a seminar room.”

“Oh, when?”

“Right before I came to you.”

Min-hyeon discovered another dangerous thing about Jun-ho. It was that tone of voice—the one that kept making him want to misunderstand.

He could have just said “before coming here,” but why did he have to say “before coming to you”?

Muttering under his breath, he felt his cheeks keep trying to rise. Following a step behind Jun-ho, Min-hyeon rubbed his cheeks with his palms for no reason.

“Can seminar rooms be reserved on the same day? I saw on the bulletin board that they always say no vacancies and you have to book in advance.”

“I’m lucky. That’s just how I am.”

Hyung, you’ve got everything. If I could just give you the flaw that is me, you’d have perfect humanity too—any interest in that?

It was nonsense he could never say out loud. Still, just imagining what Jun-ho’s reaction would be if he actually said it made him chuckle uncontrollably. Afraid that Jun-ho might hear, Min-hyeon bit down on his molars and was stifling his laughter when—

His body was yanked forward roughly, and he staggered as if about to fall. A solid yet cool embrace caught him without a gap. Something brushed past the side of Min-hyeon’s head, flying by at a hair’s breadth—that was the very next moment.

The strength left his legs. The moment Jun-ho released him, Min-hyeon’s body slid downward. Jun-ho urgently knelt to the floor, following Min-hyeon as he crumpled.

Someone seemed to be beating a drum right next to his ear—the pounding of his heart roared loudly in his ears. Min-hyeon, held against Jun-ho, gasped weakly. He couldn’t process what had just happened.

“Are you okay?”

“What… what was that just now?”

“A baseball.”

Just then, several students in dust-covered uniforms ran over with flushed faces and surrounded the two of them.

“S-s-s-s-s-sorry! We’re so sorry!”

“Did, uh, did the ball hit you?!”

“Sorry, huff, sorry! Are you okay!”

“Call the police… no! An ambulance! No! That! Call that!”

They were all shouting at once, making it impossible to understand what they were saying. Min-hyeon could see that even they—gasping roughly and yelling over each other—were trembling from head to toe.

Strangely, seeing that actually helped calm his startled heart. They seemed unable to even properly check on Min-hyeon’s condition, still overcome with fear and shock.

“I’m okay. I’m not hurt.”

Min-hyeon carefully stood up. His legs were shaky, but with Jun-ho supporting him from the side, he could manage.

“You’re really, really okay?”

“Thank goodness!”

“Aaah! What a relief!”

“Whoa! Wooah! Wooah!”

The students, who had been certain Min-hyeon had been hit by the ball, jumped around in an uproar upon learning he was unharmed. A young coach, who had run over belatedly, bowed deeply toward Min-hyeon and Jun-ho.

“I’m truly sorry. Are you hurt anywhere?”

“No, I’m fine. Just a bit startled.”

“Thank goodness. And the person next to you—are you alright as well?”

“Yes.”

The coach, relieved, frantically searched his training jacket pockets.

“Just in case, please do visit a hospital. I don’t have my business card on me right now… Please call me and I’ll cover all the treatment costs—I really mean it, please go. My number is 010…”

“No, really, I’m fine. It didn’t even graze me! I’m completely fine.”

Min-hyeon waved off the coach, who kept insisting he visit the hospital. After several more apologies and a plea to come find them if anything happened, the whirlwind of baseball club members finally left.

“Woo-jun, you bastard, you should know how lucky you are. If that had hit his head, you’d have been a murderer.”

Their voices were naturally loud, or maybe they just were—even from far away, he could still hear them talking. Watching their retreating backs with an awkward smile, Min-hyeon turned to thank Jun-ho.

“Thank you, hyung. Seriously, if it weren’t for you, I would’ve been in big trou—… hyung?”

Jun-ho’s expression was so cold that his words died in his throat. Min-hyeon blinked. Perhaps it was an illusion caused by the sunlight coming from behind Jun-ho, but he looked full of worry.

‘Did I see wrong…’

It was such a fleeting expression that it was possible. Min-hyeon scratched the back of his head.

“Really, thank you.”

“I’m glad you’re not hurt.”

“It’s all thanks to you, hyung.”

Min-hyeon tried to shrug. But the arm that Jun-ho had grabbed—his shoulder, his wrist, everything—was aching and throbbing, so he couldn’t. Swallowing a brief yelp, Min-hyeon gently rubbed his sore wrist.

The room Jun-ho had reserved was the smallest one, tucked away in the corner among the row of seminar rooms on the second floor of the library.

Min-hyeon, trying not to show Jun-ho that his arm was throbbing more and more painfully, did his best to casually pull out his laptop with his other hand. He tried not to even look in that direction, feeling that paying attention to it would only make it hurt more.

“We should start with an outline first, right? I should have taken notes while looking at it yesterday, even roughly. It’s only been a day since I saw it, but I’ve already forgotten some of it, right? At the very least, I should know what the photos I took yesterday were displayed alongside. What should we do?”

“Look at this—it might help. Here, it’s yours.”

What Jun-ho pulled out of his bag was the paper bag he’d been carrying when he entered the cafe yesterday. Forgetting about his sore arm, Min-hyeon naturally reached out both hands to take it—then frowned slightly. Jun-ho’s eyes lingered briefly on his furrowed brow.

“Oh! This is from yesterday! The Decisive Moment!”

Min-hyeon let out a small gasp upon confirming what was inside the paper bag.

“I can’t afford paintings worth millions or billions, but something like this is okay to buy for ‘anyone,’ right?”

“Haha…”

“I don’t usually go around giving gifts to just ‘anyone,’ though.”

Min-hyeon gave an ambiguous laugh and fanned himself with his hand. Outside, the sun was hot enough to make him sweat; inside the library, Jun-ho was making him hot.

“Lately, every school and public facility is raising their AC temperature—our library seems a bit warm too. Haha.”

“Min-hyeon.”

Clunk—Min-hyeon’s heart dropped. It was the first time. Jun-ho had called his name. Min-hyeon’s pupils wandered, lost.

Jun-ho took Min-hyeon’s wrist and gently pulled him closer.

“Hey, what’s this?”

“Ah…”

The spot on his forearm where Jun-ho had grabbed him earlier was already bruising. The mark was so distinct—clearly the imprint of fingers—that Jun-ho frowned. Before Jun-ho could say anything, Min-hyeon hastily spoke first. The words spilled out as if he’d prepared them in advance.

“Hyung, you must have really strong grip strength. Or maybe it’s that thing? You know, they say people exhibit superhuman strength when faced with danger. Like stories about a mother lifting a truck by herself to save her child trapped under the wheels. That was exactly the kind of situation earlier. Phew. Really, I’ll say it again—thank you so much for saving me. And I’m the type who bruises easily anyway. Don’t worry too much about it. It’ll fade quickly.”

Min-hyeon had never once had a bruise in his childhood—the kind everyone gets one or two of on their knees—thanks to Min-woo’s extreme vigilance against him getting hurt from as far back as he could barely remember.

But seeing Jun-ho’s face completely frozen, as if blaming himself for hurting Min-hyeon, made the lies flow easily.

Whether Min-hyeon’s desperate excuses had somewhat worked, Jun-ho’s expression softened slightly. Min-hyeon sighed in relief.

“I’ll run to the health center and get some medicine. Wait here for a bit.”

“I could just stop by the health center on my way home later, though.”

“Sorry, but this isn’t just a ‘wait around and have fun’ request. While I’m gone, look through the photobook and think about how you want to structure the report.”

“Ugh. Fine.”

Seeing Min-hyeon’s face crumple instantly into a grimace, Jun-ho’s lips curved upward as he left the seminar room.

“Ah!”

Min-hyeon quickly chased after him. Even though he’d followed right out the door after Jun-ho left, Jun-ho was already almost at the end of the hallway. Even if it was just in front of a seminar room, it was still a library, so he couldn’t exactly yell for him. Knowing it would be useless anyway, Min-hyeon followed behind him, mouthing the words in almost complete silence.

“Hyung! Jun-ho hyung! Wait a second!”

Then, something miraculous happened. It was probably coincidence, but just as Jun-ho was about to turn the corner, he turned back toward Min-hyeon. Min-hyeon waved his hand widely, calling him.

Jun-ho quickly walked back. His legs were so long that it seemed like he’d only taken a few steps, yet he was back in no time—it was almost fascinating.

“Hyung, I’m sorry to ask, but could you also pick up a large pain patch for me while you’re there?”

Looking at Jun-ho, who was narrowing his brows and closely examining his right arm, Min-hyeon gave an awkward smile and waved his hands.

“It’s not injured. I just want to put it on my arm for the way home. Our hyung is a bit overprotective. If he sees this bruise, he’ll definitely start nagging.”

“Anything else you need?”

“That’s all. But hyung—I called you really softly, barely whispering. How did you happen to turn around right at that exact moment? Isn’t that amazing? I guess we just click.”

The moment he finished speaking, Min-hyeon dashed back into the seminar room, his ears burning red.

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