Chapter Text
Every now and then, Si-eun still had trouble sleeping.
Over the past year, though, it had only happened three or four times. And when it did
when he woke up in the middle of the night, eyes wide open, knowing there was no way
he’d fall back asleep—he’d grab a magnesium pill from the stash in his desk drawer and go
back to bed. No nightmares.
These days, he thought as he laced up his shoes, everything felt like it was finally where it
was supposed to be. No more bad dreams waiting to show up. If anything, this kind of
quiet, slightly boring calm he and his friends were living—they’d actually earned it.
Still, sometimes, a weird little feeling would creep in. A vague unease he could never quite
put his finger on.
He pushed open the door, and the thick, late-summer air hit his face. Less than twenty-four hours to go. High school was almost over. Just a few more hours in that Eunjang High uniform. And yet… he wasn’t sure what he felt.
For years, that uniform had felt heavy, like it was choking him. He used to wonder how any
of them had made it this far.
The bus showed up pretty quick. Si-eun got on, sat by the window, and set the plastic bag
he’d brought on his lap. He suddenly remembered to text his mum—just a quick message
saying he’d be late and would eat out. No extra details.
When the bus pulled up to his stop, he tightened his grip on the bag and spotted Jun-tae’s
smiling face through the window, waving his arm to get his attention.
“Yo, Si-eun!” he shouted as soon as he got off.
“Hey,” Si-eun replied, totally deadpan.
“You’re early.”
“Yeah.”
They started walking. Jun-tae caught up and leaned over to peek at the bag Si-eun was
holding.
“What’s in there?”
Si-eun raised an eyebrow, then followed his gaze.
“Something for Baku.”
“Ah, got it,” Jun-tae said, already used to his friend’s short answers.
A minute later, near the school’s basketball court, a voice called out to them. They turned
Baku was waving with Gotak next to him, who had just nailed a shot.
Baku spun around, mock-offended.
“Yo! Playing dirty now?”
“What are you on about? You weren’t even watching!”
“I watch everything.”
“Yeah, right!”
“I do, you softie. You're the one always trying to sneak in points.”
While they bickered, Jun-tae ran up to them, grinning like crazy. Si-eun followed behind,
same calm pace as always.
“What’s the drama?” Jun-tae asked, laughing.
“Gotak’s a total dispravate!”
“Pretty sure you mean ‘depraved,’” Gotak replied, side-eyeing him. “Do you even know
what that means?”
“Of course I do. Hey, Si-eun!” Baku called, dropping the argument instantly.
Si-eun nodded and handed him the plastic bag.
“Oh, is this a gift?”
“It’s your manga. The basketball one.”
Baku’s face lit up like a kid at Christmas. “You liked it, right? C’mon, tell me your favorite
part. Don’t say it’s when Sakuragi—”
“It’s boring,” Si-eun cut in. “I don’t get why you’re so into it.”
“Huh? What the hell…? Are you seriously made of stone, Your Majesty the Ice Princess?”
Baku said, mock offended.
“I’d really appreciate it if you dropped that whole princess thing,” Si-eun muttered.
“You have to admit—it kind of suits you,” Gotak said with a grin.
“You’re the only one laughing,” Si-eun replied.
His face didn’t change, but inside, he felt weirdly at peace. Deep down, in a part of himself he barely looked at, he probably wished he could tell them how he really felt in that moment—and how he’d been feeling for the past couple of years. And then, like his face was rebelling against him, the corners of his lips twitched upward.
No one said anything. Because they all felt it too.
“Anyway, check this out,” Baku said, holding up two plastic bags that clinked softly.
“What’s that?” asked Jun-tae.
“Soju.”
“Are you nuts? We’ve got graduation tomorrow! What are you thinking?” Gotak said.
“Bro, I turn nineteen in a few hours. I am legally allowed to show up totally wasted.”
“Legally allowed?” Si-eun echoed, deadpan.
The sarcasm just floated by. Baku, clearly thrilled with himself, grabbed Si-eun and Jun
Tae and pulled them toward the bleachers by the court. He cracked open the first bottle and started pouring the clear liquid into four tiny glasses.
“Alright, let’s toast to a crazy year,” Baku said with mock seriousness, placing a hand on his
chest.
Si-eun looked down at the tiny glass filled with clear liquid, then glanced up at the others.
Baku gave him a mischievous grin. “Come on, man. It’s just for my birthday.”
So, the four of them clinked their glasses together in the middle and took a sip.
“Man, I just hope you don’t ruin the ceremony tomorrow,” Gotak muttered after drinking.
“I would never do that to you,” Baku replied, giving him a look that was half angelic, half
offended.
Jun-tae smiled. He felt so happy in that moment, it was like he could trace back every step
of their friendship, all the way to right now.
Sometimes he thought that if he hadn’t met Si-eun—with his stubborn, reckless determination—he might’ve stayed stuck as a shadow of himself. And sometimes, he figured maybe Si-eun thought the same. That somehow, they’d saved each other. Or at least… he liked to believe that.
“Hey, Jun-tae. What are you daydreaming about?” Gotak asked, pouring himself another
shot of soju. Baku smacked him lightly on the back of the head.
“Idiot.”
“Watch it, Go Hyun-tak.”
“Says the genius over here…”
“I was just thinking about last year. When I gave your phones back,” Jun-tae said, getting
a bit serious.
“Oh man, I wish I could’ve seen Choi Hyo-man’s stupid face!” Gotak laughed, practically
choking.
“Yeah… but really, I was thinking how everything kinda started from there. And how, if
we’re this close now, it’s partly because Si-eun pushed me to do it.”
Jun-tae had never had trouble saying how he felt. And it wasn’t exactly a secret how much
he cared about his friends—Si-eun got it, more than anyone.
“Then here’s to Si-eun and the legend of U-turn!” Baku shouted, full of energy, raising
his glass.
Si-eun looked a little surprised, but didn’t say anything. He just followed their lead,
knocking back the sweet, slightly burning drink. Then they heard the buzz of a scooter approaching and all turned toward the road.
Su-ho slowed down, put one foot on the ground, and waved.
“Now we’re really all here,” Baku said, jumping up and running over to him in a flash.
“I brought chicken!” Su-ho beamed, waving a plastic bag in Baku’s face.
“Guess the old man finally went soft if he let you bring his sacred fried chicken.”
“Are you kidding? I paid for it. Your dad docked 65,000 won from my paycheck,” Su-ho
groaned, turning off the engine.
He handed the bag to Baku, then limped slightly as he walked toward the others.
Si-eun noticed and gave him a quick glance. Su-ho caught it and immediately tried to walk
more normally.
“Hey, brainiac. You ready for tomorrow?” he asked, stopping in front of Si-eun.
“It’s just a ceremony. The real exams are in two weeks,” he replied, sounding distracted.
“Well… I definitely don’t envy you.”
Because of the years he’d spent in a coma, Su-ho had fallen way behind in school. He’d be
the only one not graduating this year. But he wasn’t bitter about it—Baku had somehow
convinced his dad to hire Su-ho full time as the restaurant’s delivery guy. And when Si-eun found out, he’d thought—half-jokingly—that yeah, maybe things really had fallen into place.
Su-ho leaned on his left leg, used his arms to sit down beside Si-eun.
“I’m starving. Hand over the chicken… man, it smells amazing…”
Jun-tae passed him the box right away. Su-ho dove into the crispy fried thighs, making all
kinds of satisfied noises.
“Hey Su-ho, just so you know, this lunatic here wants to show up drunk to the ceremony,”
Gotak said, already on his third glass. Baku raised an eyebrow, then gave Su-ho a huge grin.
“At midnight I turn nineteen. I’m allowed. Unlike someone,” he said, smacking Gotak again.
Su-ho burst out laughing, still chewing.
“I turned nineteen two months ago, thank you very much. But unlike you four freeloaders,
I’ve got work in the morning!”
Si-eun watched him quietly, waiting for him to calm down, but Su-ho was on a roll.
Then Baku threw an arm around his shoulders.
“Come on, just one little sip. What’s the worst that could happen? I’ll talk to my dad.”
“Exactly what I don’t want,” Su-ho laughed, finally swallowing his mouthful.
“Still, your dad is a chicken genius. No one fries like he does,” he added, biting into another
piece.
“Yeah… that old bastard’s got skills…”
But Baku suddenly trailed off. Something had caught his eye. He glanced down at his pocket, pulled out his phone, and quickly switched off the screen. Si-eun saw it flash clearly.
“What’s up?” he asked.
“Who? What? Nothing,” Baku muttered, avoiding eye contact.
Si-eun felt unsettled. That quick, evasive move didn’t sit right with him. Then Baku stood up.
“Since I love you losers and care about my school’s good name, I’m going to bed,” he
declared theatrically.
“What the hell are you talking about? What happened to your birthday mission?” Gotak
asked, confused.
“I’m saving that for the next episode. Tomorrow, dinner’s on me. My treat.”
“Yeah, right…” Gotak muttered, but didn’t get a chance to argue—Baku had already taken
off, running so fast he vanished in seconds.
"Man, that was weird," Su-ho said, still munching on his chicken.
Si-eun, though, wasn’t really listening. His eyes were fixed on the spot where Baku had
disappeared. That strange feeling from earlier—barely a brush at first—was now heavier, more present. When was the last time Baku had acted like that? He tried to remember, but the only thing he felt was a slight twist in his stomach.
"Hey, you okay?" Su-ho asked, frowning a little.
Sometimes it felt like he could read right into Si-eun’s face—like he knew how to slip under
the surface and pick up the things left unsaid.
"Mm," Si-eun mumbled, giving a small nod.
But Su-ho didn’t buy it. He stood up slowly, careful where he put his weight.
"Come on, I’ll give you a ride home," he said, holding out his helmet.
Si-eun looked at him, confused for a second. He didn’t reply. Just took the helmet from Su-ho’s hands.
"Fine, be that way," Gotak said, grabbing the two soju bags Baku had left behind. "I really
hope this doesn’t get me arrested."
Su-ho took them from him without missing a beat. "He probably just swiped them from the
restaurant," he said with a smile.
Gotak gave him a look of genuine thanks. He felt it again—that quiet, unspoken thought all of them had shared more than once since Su-ho had come back to them, after the coma, after everything.
Sometimes, he was the one who held the group together. The one they didn’t even realise they needed—until he was there.
The four of them said goodbye there, on the bleachers by the basketball court.
They didn’t make a big deal out of it. But they all knew that, for some of them, this night was the last page of a chapter they’d never reopen.
At the scooter, Su-ho gripped the handlebars with both hands and swung one leg over to
sit down. Si-eun watched him. And for a second, his certainty cracked.
Maybe not everything had fallen back into place after all.
“How’s it going?” he asked, still holding the helmet, not getting on yet.
“Fantastic. Why?”
“Doesn’t seem like your leg’s getting any better. Maybe you should slow down a bit.”
“What? No way. I’m basically back to normal,” Su-ho replied, forcing a smile.
But he knew.
The months of therapy had helped, yes, but not enough. The limp was still there. And it might never go away completely. The doctors had said there was hope—if he stuck with it, if he gave it time. And Su-ho was clinging to that hope with everything he had.
"Mm," Si-eun muttered, then held out the helmet again.
Su-ho frowned. "What are you doing?"
"You should be the one wearing it."
“Damn, I really need to buy another one. Can’t believe I keep forgetting… Come on, put
it on and hop on.”
"I’m serious," Si-eun said.
His arm didn’t move. The helmet stayed exactly where it was, offered like something that
mattered.
Su-ho let out a breath and looked down, just briefly.
"Just because I was in a coma doesn’t mean I’m made of glass."
His voice was quieter than usual.
To Si-eun, Su-ho had always been a ball of energy—almost impossible to pin down. But sometimes, like now, it was like he shifted into someone else entirely. Just for a moment. Then, like flipping a switch, he gave a big grin and winked.
"It’s still hard as a rock!" he said, tapping the top of his head like it was solid steel.
Si-eun sighed.
If there was anyone more stubborn than him, it was Su-ho. And maybe—just maybe—that stubbornness was what kept him alive during the coma.
Hard as a rock.
What Si-eun couldn’t say, not out loud, was that the thought of losing him again was
enough to knock the air out of his lungs.
In the end, he gave up.
Put on the helmet.
Got on the back.
Su-ho tucked the soju bags between his knees, and the scooter rolled off, slowly.
"Sometimes Baku’s just... really weird, huh?" Su-ho said, raising his voice to be heard over the engine.
"Mm," Si-eun nodded.
"What?" Su-ho asked, briefly letting go of the handlebar to cup a hand around his ear.
Si-eun’s eyes flicked to the loose hand, lingering for a moment. Then, a beat later, he raised his voice. "I said you’re right!" he called out, louder than before. Only once Su-ho’s hand returned to the handlebar did Si-eun look away.
The truth was, Baku wasn’t weird. Not really. He was eccentric, sure. But the way he’d acted tonight—that had been strange. And the way he left? That was something else entirely.
“I wonder what was so urgent, for him to run off like that.”
“What do you mean?” Su-ho asked, tone shifting—like he’d caught something just beneath
the surface.
“Right before he left, his phone went off. But he shut it off. Didn’t answer.”
“I didn’t notice,” Su-ho admitted as he turned down the road that led to Si-eun’s apartment
complex.
“You could always ask him,” he added, slowing down a little more.
“Yeah,” Si-eun said.
But he knew Baku wouldn’t tell them anything if he thought it might upset them.
That was just how he was. Always protecting them from something. Or maybe—maybe Si-eun was overthinking it again. Still dragging old fears into new nights.
The scooter stopped. Si-eun stepped off carefully, handed the helmet back. Su-ho took it with one hand and gave him a smile.
“Anyway, there’s time to deal with Baku. You guys have enough to handle tomorrow. I’ll
see you at the restaurant,” he said, making a little heart with his thumb and index finger.
Si-eun raised his eyebrows in a quiet wave and turned around, already thinking.
Tomorrow, before going to the restaurant, he’d stop by the motor shop. And finally buy a second helmet.
The next day, at the graduation ceremony, Si-eun, Jun-tae, Gotak, and Baku sat together
in the third row. They listened as Baku, the student representative, delivered a characteristically offbeat speech. He encouraged everyone to follow their passions—but also to hold on to the people who mattered—while occasionally misusing a word or two.
Gotak didn’t miss the chance to tease him. He leaned over and asked how someone with
Baku’s IQ had made it to senior year… and even graduated.
After the ceremony, Si-eun kept the promise he’d made to himself.
He went to a motor shop, bought a new helmet, and handed it to Su-ho that evening during
the dinner they’d all organized to celebrate their graduation.
The weeks that followed were filled with study.
Si-eun was preparing for his university entrance exams and, to his quiet relief, Baku hadn’t
shown any more strange behavior. That helped him stay focused. Long study sessions, broken up by the occasional hangout with friends, paid off.
Si-eun was accepted into the mathematics department at Seoul National University.
Jun-tae chose law—he said it was the best way to make his voice heard, to change things
from the inside.
Gotak and Baku earned sports scholarships and enrolled at the same university. Baku was over the moon. He’d finally be attending a co-ed school, and he couldn’t wait to
meet new girls.
Si-eun’s university was co-ed too, but he didn’t really care. All he wanted was to study hard and perform as well as he had before transferring to Eunjang.
The campus was huge. He spent most of the first day trying to find the right classrooms, until eventually he ended up at one of the faculty dining halls.
He looked around at the long line of students. It felt more like a shopping mall than a university cafeteria—hundreds of people, no uniforms in sight.
Maybe that was it, he thought. The absence of uniforms made everything feel unfamiliar.
He pulled his hoodie a little closer around him and made his way toward the food counter.
That’s when he felt it—a thud, followed by a jolt that knocked him off balance.
He didn’t fall, but something inside him flinched.
Like a wave of half-forgotten memories had suddenly rushed to the surface.
“Sorry!” came a voice from behind him. A voice he didn’t recognise.
He turned slowly. It was a girl.
She raised her eyebrows, flustered.
“Sorry, someone pushed me,” she said with an awkward smile.
Si-eun looked past her shoulders and saw a few boys waving clumsily in apology.
Then he looked back at her. Her hair was long—so long it almost covered her face.
“Mm… it’s fine.”
“I’m new here,” she added quickly. “Still trying to figure out how things work.”
Her Korean had a faint foreign accent.
“Well, you could start by not crashing into people,” Si-eun replied.
She looked up at him, surprised.
“That’s how things work here,” he added, deadpan.
She gave another sheepish smile.
“Right… yeah, fair enough. Sorry again,” she said, waving a hand in front of her face.
Si-eun watched her as she turned and walked back to her group.
Her straight black hair swung slightly down her back.
Something about the way it moved felt strangely familiar.
But he couldn’t figure out why.