The one hour I spent with Sub-Unit B felt like sitting inside a pressurized chamber. The silence coming from Hanbin was so heavy it felt physical—a wall of cold granite that kept everyone, especially a trembling, sweaty Jung Kai, at a distance. I was relieved when the clock finally allowed me to escape to the library to find Jiyoon and Sunho-sunbae.
However, the peace didn't last long. Jiyoon, who had been frantically typing away at our interface wireframes, checked her watch at 9:30 PM and gasped.
"Danoh-ya, I'm so sorry! My mom is calling—I forgot I promised to help her with the holiday leftovers cleanup tonight. I have to run!" She scrambled to pack her bags, giving me a sympathetic look. "Sunho-sunbae, you don't mind finishing the layout overview with Danoh, right?"
"Not at all," Sunho said, his voice as calm as a lake at dawn. "Family first, Jiyoon-ah. Go ahead."
So, for the next thirty minutes, it was just us. The library was nearly empty, the rows of books standing like silent sentinels under the dim yellow lights. Sunho was a patient teacher. He didn't hover like Jisoo or intimidate like Hanbin; he guided. But there was something about his perfection that made me feel like I had to be on my best behavior, a feeling of being "on stage" that I never felt with Hanbin.
"That's enough for tonight," Sunho finally said, closing his sleek silver laptop at exactly 10:00 PM. "Your brain must be fried. Mine certainly is. Would you join me for dinner, Danoh?"
I hesitated, but my stomach made the decision for me, letting out a faint, traitorous growl.
"Okay," I said, smiling sheepishly. "I'd like that."
The library stairs are grand and steep, made of polished stone that looks beautiful but feels treacherous when you're tired. As we descended, my mind was still half-lost in the logic of the project. My injured leg, still not quite at a hundred percent since the incident, buckled slightly on a narrow step.
"Whoa—!"
I felt the world tilt. My books started to slip from my grip, and I braced for the impact. But the impact never came.
A pair of strong arms caught me, steadying my shoulders and pulling me back. Sunho's grip was firm, his reflex time impressive. For a moment, I was tucked against his chest. "Careful," he whispered. "I've got you."
He didn't let go immediately. He waited until he was sure my feet were planted firmly. "Are you okay? Did you twist your ankle again?"
"I'm fine, Sunbae. Just... clumsy," I said, pulling away and tucking a strand of hair behind my ear, my face flushing.
"It's 10:00 PM. No one is at their best at this hour," he said with a warm smile. "Let's get that food before you faint on me for real."
As we walked, Sunho talked about a "hidden gem" of a restaurant he frequented. I didn't have the heart to tell him I already knew exactly where we were going.
When we pushed open the door of the small, warm eatery, the bell chimed. Ting.
"Welcome! Ah, Sunho-ya! You're late tonight!" my Uncle Dohyun's voice boomed.
Sunho laughed, bowing deeply. "The Professor kept us late, Uncle. I brought a friend tonight."
Uncle looked up, his wooden spoon mid-air, and his eyes nearly popped out. "Danoh? What are you doing here with Sunho?"
Sunho froze, looking at me, then back at my uncle. "Wait... Danoh-ya, is this...?"
"This is my family's restaurant," I said.
Sunho was genuinely shocked. "I had no idea. I've been coming here almost every evening for months. I guess because I come so late, I never saw you here."
"I'm usually upstairs studying by then," I explained.
We sat down, and the atmosphere was cozy, but for me, it was tinged with a quiet melancholy that always lived in the corners of this room. This restaurant was all Doyoon and I had left. Our parents had passed away in a car accident years ago—a sudden, violent erasure that had turned our lives upside down.
Uncle Dohyun, my father's younger brother, had never married. He had stepped up without a second thought, trading his own dreams to run this place and raise us. He was the only father figure we knew, and this restaurant was our fortress.
Just as the soup arrived, the back door slammed open and my younger brother, Doyoon, skidded into the dining area.
"Eomeoni! Appa! I have been struck by the arrows of tragedy!" Doyoon shouted, then stopped when he saw Sunho. "Oh. Noona. You're here. And you brought... a very handsome hyung."
"Doyoon!" I hissed, my face turning bright red. "Shut up! This is Sunho-sunbae."
Sunho chuckled.
Doyoon threw himself into the chair next to us. "I confessed today. To the goddess of the 11th grade. I told her, 'Your beauty is like a quadratic equation—complex and perfect.' And you know what she said? She said her brothers are in a boxing club and they'll break my legs if I speak to her again."
Sunho burst out laughing—a real, genuine laugh.
"I actually support her," I said, stirring my soup. "She sounds like a girl with excellent boundaries. You deserved the threat for that line, Doyoon."
"Noona! You're heartless!" Doyoon pouted, then looked at Sunho. "Hyung, you're smart. How do you get girls to like you without getting your legs broken?"
Sunho's gaze flickered to me for a split second. "Well, Doyoon-ah, I think the trick is to be a constant they can rely on. Not a variable they want to delete."
Doyoon squinted. "That's even nerdier than my line. You guys are perfect for each other."
He hopped up and ran back to the kitchen to harass our uncle, leaving us in a sudden, weighted silence.
"He's a good kid," Sunho said softly. "Your uncle told me a bit about your situation once. He's very proud of how you've grown up, Danoh."
I looked down at my soup, the steam warming my face. I thought of my parents, then I thought of Hanbin, who had walked me home and protected me in his own silent, bruised way.
"Thanks, Sunbae," I said quietly.
As we finished dinner and Sunho walked me to the stairs leading to our apartment above the restaurant, he was perfectly polite. But as I went inside, I realized that while Sunho was a regular at the restaurant, he was still a guest in my world.
Hanbin, with his shadows and his secret care, felt like he belonged in the parts of my life I didn't show anyone else.