The rain came suddenly. First, a fine drizzle - like someone scattering grains across the sky - then heavy drops that made the asphalt gleam, reflecting streetlights and shop windows. Under the gray sky, the city looked softer: passersby hurried on, umbrellas collided, puddles spread wide.
Minjun pulled up his hood and stopped at a familiar door. The bell above the entrance chimed, and warm air embraced him after the chill outside. The scent of coffee, bread, and the faint dryness of plastic from the shelves immediately reminded him: this was his little island.
Hyuk was behind the counter, leaning over a notebook. He lifted his head, the corners of his lips twitching with a smile - so faint it was almost invisible.
"Got wet?" he asked, glancing at Minjun's damp hair.
"A little," Minjun admitted, pushing back his hood and brushing a hand through his bangs. "Didn't bring an umbrella."
"Experience comes quickly," Hyuk said dryly, though without mockery. He set the pen aside and tapped the chair beside the register. "Sit. Dry off."
Minjun nodded, cheeks warming slightly. Nothing special - but the fact that someone thought of him left a quiet warmth inside.
For a while, they said nothing. Only the sound of raindrops against the glass filled the silence. Minjun was about to break it, but Hyuk spoke first:
"Did you have class today?"
"Yes. A literature seminar." Minjun gave a small smile. "Honestly, we spent half the time arguing about why the protagonist of White Nights made the choices he did."
"And?" Hyuk raised an eyebrow.
"I said that's the point. Sometimes choices don't have to be logical." He shrugged. "I don't think the professor appreciated it."
Hyuk let out a quiet chuckle. "I would have."
Minjun froze, unsure how to respond. Something stirred in his chest - as if it wasn't just his words being acknowledged, but the effort to be himself.
***
They turned back to the store. Hyuk checked invoices while Minjun, on his own initiative, straightened a stack of fallen rice bags. This time it wasn't "help for the sake of helping," but simply wanting to keep busy.
"Don't you ever get tired of all this?" Minjun asked, eyes on the neat stacks.
"I do," Hyuk replied evenly. "But it's my choice. Tiredness and satisfaction often walk side by side."
"And if they don't?"
Hyuk's gaze lingered on him for a moment. "Then you change something. Not right away - but you change."
Minjun nodded. It felt like he wasn't just talking about the store.
***
The rain didn't stop. Drops drummed against the glass, streetlights scattering in broken reflections. When closing time came, Hyuk pulled a black umbrella from beneath the counter.
"Let's go," he said simply.
Minjun blinked.
"You're going to walk me home?"
"I don't want you walking in the rain again." Spoken as fact, without flourish.
They stepped out together. Under one umbrella, it was close - shoulders brushed now and then, breaths mingled. Minjun caught Hyuk's scent - not strong, not released deliberately, but his natural background. Calm, warm, holding the outside world at bay.
"You know," Hyuk said suddenly, "I've always liked the smell of wet asphalt. It feels like a beginning."
Minjun looked at him. "A beginning of what?"
"Anything," Hyuk answered after a pause.
The simple words lingered between them as they walked across the shining street.
***
At Minjun's door, he hesitated. Rain still fell, the streetlight casting soft light across Hyuk's dark hair, making his profile gentler.
"Thank you," Minjun said quietly.
Hyuk tilted the umbrella slightly so no drops fell on him. Their eyes met. There was no confession in the look - but something more than see you later.
Minjun drew in a breath, chest trembling. He wanted to say more, but the words stuck. Hyuk only gave the faintest smile, turned, and walked back into the rain.
Minjun watched him until his silhouette dissolved into the gray streams. Only then did he step inside. His heart still beat too fast, but not from anxiety. It was something new, strange, and steady - as if his life was shifting, and at last, he was ready to let it happen.