After class, Minjun left the university with a heavy backpack and a slight ache in his shoulders. The day had dragged on longer than expected: new topics, new faces, the quick chatter of his classmates, in which he felt more like an observer than a participant. He walked down the street and realized he didn't want to go back to his empty apartment right away. His mind offered up an image: the light in the window of the convenience store, the smell of bread, and Hyuk's steady breathing beside him.
His steps turned almost without a thought.
The bell on the door chimed softly. Inside, it smelled of fresh pastries and damp air from the street. Minjun found Hyuk by the counter; he was checking things off in a thick notebook, occasionally making notes on price tags with a pen. Hearing the sound, Hyuk looked up.
"You're here again," he noted calmly, but the corners of his lips twitched into a small smile.
"I just… didn't feel like going straight home," Minjun admitted, lowering his gaze. "I hope I'm not in the way?"
"If you were, I'd say so," Hyuk replied, closing the notebook. "But honestly? I'm more used to it not being completely quiet here."
That simple phrase sent a warm shiver through Minjun's chest. He walked closer and put his backpack down by the counter.
A noisy group of students entered the store. Two girls and a boy laughed loudly, flipping through magazines and joking with each other. Minjun pressed himself to the side, trying not to be in the way. One of the guys gave him a sharp look and smirked:
"You working here too?"
"No," Minjun answered shortly.
"Too bad, we could've put you to work," the guy joked, then turned back to his friends.
The noise of their voices was irritating, but Hyuk, as always, remained calm. He quietly completed their purchases, thanked them, and returned to his work. Everything about it seemed so natural that Minjun found himself thinking he wished he had the same kind of composure.
When the door chimed again, letting the students out, the store became quiet. Hyuk looked at Minjun, tilting his head slightly.
"You don't like noise?"
"It's hard to get used to," he admitted. "I'm more comfortable when it's calm."
"Then you're lucky I don't play music in the store," Hyuk chuckled.
Minjun smiled unexpectedly. He rarely allowed himself to laugh just for the sake of it, but here, it came naturally.
The two of them began to unpack a small delivery: a couple of boxes of cookies and drinks. It seemed like a small task, but Minjun felt a strange pleasure in working side by side. Every time their movements coincided - hands meeting over a box, shoulders brushing in the narrow aisle - a light, unfamiliar warmth resonated in his chest.
"These are better to put closer to the register," Hyuk said, handing him a pack of cookies. "They sell faster."
Minjun took the pack, and their fingers touched. Only for a second, but that second was enough to make Minjun's ears and cheeks flush.
To hide his embarrassment, he asked, "Do you really read novels? I thought you only did work and calculations."
Hyuk raised an eyebrow slightly. "Did you think I never relaxed?"
"I just... didn't imagine it," Minjun mumbled.
"Well, start imagining," Hyuk said bluntly, but there was a smile in his voice. "Sometimes I need to switch off from the numbers."
"And what do you read?"
"All sorts of things. Sometimes mysteries. Sometimes old novels."
"I never would have guessed," Minjun whispered, and they both laughed.
These light, seemingly casual conversations eased the tension more than any kind of comfort.
By evening, the store was empty. The rain was still drizzling outside the windows. Hyuk closed the register, stretched, and glanced at Minjun.
"Want me to walk you home?"
"You don't have to..." Minjun began, but his words hung in the air. Hyuk's gaze was so steady and calm that there was no point in arguing.
They walked out under a single umbrella. The asphalt gleamed, and streetlights reflected in the puddles. Their shoulders touched - it was close, but somehow natural. Minjun could feel Hyuk's faint scent beside him: not deliberately released, but a quiet, background scent, as if it were protecting him.
He caught himself walking a little closer than he needed to. He was listening not to the noise of the street, but to Hyuk's breathing beside him.
"You seemed more confident today," Hyuk said quietly.
Minjun hesitated. "Maybe it's just from fatigue."
"Maybe," Hyuk agreed, not pressing the matter.
At his apartment door, Minjun lingered. Hyuk held the umbrella so the drops wouldn't fall on his hair. Their eyes met. For several seconds - long and almost tangible - a silence stood between them.
"Thank you," Minjun said, his voice softer than he intended.
Hyuk nodded and turned back to the road. His silhouette dissolved in the light of the streetlights and the sound of the rain.
Minjun went inside, leaned against the door, and held his breath. Something strange and new was still fluttering in his chest. For the first time, he allowed himself to admit honestly: he wanted these meetings. Not just a casual touch, not just a short conversation, but the very fact of being together.