Closer Still

The afternoon sun poured through the large windows of the university library, casting long, golden beams that stretched across the wooden tables. Sangwon leaned back in his chair, stretching his arms above his head as his eyes drifted from the textbook in front of him to the figure across the table. Byungjoo was absorbed in his notes, his pen moving steadily across the page.

Sangwon had known Byungjoo for years, ever since they met during freshman orientation. Their friendship had been built on a foundation of mutual teasing and relentless bickering, which, in a strange way, had become a comforting constant in Sangwon's life. There was something about the way they could argue about the most trivial things—like who was worse at cooking or whose music taste was more questionable—that made everything else seem a little less complicated.

Today was no different. They had spent the better part of the afternoon in the library, supposedly studying for midterms, but more often than not, they ended up sniping at each other about who had been less productive. Sangwon's eyes traced the curve of Byungjoo's brow, the way his hair fell into his eyes, and the little furrow between his eyebrows when he was deep in concentration. It was a look Sangwon had seen countless times, but today, something about it made his heart stutter in his chest.

He blinked, startled by the sudden, unfamiliar sensation. Shaking his head, he dropped his gaze back to his textbook, forcing himself to focus on the printed words. It's nothing, he told himself. Just the stress of exams.

But as the days passed, the strange feeling didn't fade. If anything, it grew stronger. It was in the way Sangwon's heart leaped a little when Byungjoo greeted him in the morning, the warmth that spread through his chest when Byungjoo flashed him that rare, genuine smile. It was in the way his stomach fluttered when Byungjoo leaned in close, their shoulders brushing as they both stared at the same screen.

Sangwon found himself drawn to Byungjoo in ways that went beyond their usual banter. He noticed things he hadn't before—like how Byungjoo always carried an extra pen because Sangwon constantly lost his, or how he remembered Sangwon's coffee order down to the exact amount of sugar. These small gestures, which Sangwon had always taken for granted, suddenly seemed significant, meaningful.

But with this growing awareness came confusion. Sangwon didn't understand why his thoughts kept circling back to Byungjoo, why his presence seemed to take up so much space in his mind. It made no sense. They were friends—close friends, sure—but nothing more.

It was during one of their usual late-night study sessions that the realization began to creep in. The campus was quiet, the library almost deserted save for the two of them. Byungjoo was typing away on his laptop, the soft clicking of keys the only sound in the room. Sangwon, unable to concentrate, found himself watching Byungjoo again, his eyes tracing the lines of his profile.

As he watched, a thought slipped, unbidden, into his mind: What would it be like to kiss him?

The moment the thought formed, Sangwon felt his face heat up, his pulse quickening. He quickly looked away, trying to banish the image from his mind, but it was too late. The thought lingered, teasing him, refusing to be ignored.

Panic set in. No, no, no. This can't be happening. Sangwon squeezed his eyes shut, trying to will away the thought, the feeling. But it was still there, simmering beneath the surface. How could he even think something like that? This was Byungjoo—his friend, his hyung, the person he argued with over the dumbest things.

He tried to rationalize it away. Maybe it was just the stress. They had been spending so much time together, practically living in each other's pockets. It was bound to mess with his head, right? But the more he tried to convince himself, the less convincing it sounded.