The days blur together in a mixture of chemistry experiments, whispered conversations, and moments that seem to stretch longer than they should. Min is beginning to notice things—details about Chung he never paid attention to before. The way he tilts his head when he listens to someone, the way his eyes light up when he’s excited about something, even the way his laughter lingers in the air long after it fades.
It’s all so... infectious. And Min finds himself caught in it, almost against his will. He used to think that the loudness of Chung’s presence was something that irritated him, something that made him want to shrink back. But now, when Chung’s not around, Min feels an unsettling emptiness in the silence.
One afternoon, as they’re wrapping up a particularly complicated lab, Min glances over at Chung, who’s leaning back in his chair, scribbling something on his notebook. The light from the window catches his face, and for a moment, Min just watches him, caught in the calmness that surrounds Chung in that rare quiet moment.
Chung glances up and catches him staring, his eyes widening in surprise before his lips curl into that trademark smirk. “You’ve been staring at me for a while. You need something, Min?”
Min’s heart skips a beat. He quickly looks away, flustered. “No. I was just... lost in thought.”
Chung doesn’t press him. Instead, he leans forward, his eyes suddenly more intense, his voice quieter. “You know, we’ve been working together for a while now, and you still don’t tell me anything about yourself. Not even your favorite music or what you like to do outside of school.”
Min feels a knot form in his stomach. It’s not that he’s trying to shut Chung out; it’s just that he’s never been the type to share personal things with anyone. His life has always felt private, contained in a small bubble that only he occupies. He’s never wanted anyone to poke their way into it.
“I don’t really do much outside of school,” Min says, shrugging it off. “I read. Draw. Nothing exciting.”
Chung tilts his head, clearly not satisfied with that answer. “Come on, Min. Everyone has something they’re passionate about. Even you.”
Min shifts uncomfortably in his seat, his gaze dropping to his hands. He can feel the weight of Chung’s stare on him, but he doesn’t know how to explain that it’s not about not having something to be passionate about. It’s just that, for Min, it’s always been easier to keep everything inside. To protect himself from people who might not understand.
Chung watches him for a moment longer, then sighs. “I get it. You’re the mysterious, quiet type. But I’m telling you, if you keep hiding, you’ll miss out on so much. There’s a whole world out there waiting to be discovered.”
Min’s chest tightens at the words. It’s not just the statement that unsettles him, but the way Chung says it—like he’s speaking from experience, like he knows something Min doesn’t. Min wants to argue, to tell him that his world is fine the way it is. But for some reason, he stays quiet, the words stuck in his throat.
The bell rings, signaling the end of class, and the tension between them lingers, thick and unresolved. Min quickly grabs his things, eager to escape the lingering weight of the conversation. But before he can slip out, Chung’s voice stops him.
“Hey,” Chung says, his tone softer now. “I know we’re not exactly alike. I know you don’t want to open up, and that’s fine. But if you ever do... you can trust me. Okay?”
Min’s heart skips, and for the first time, he doesn’t know how to respond. He’s not used to being trusted, or trusting anyone else, but for some reason, Chung’s words don’t feel like a challenge. They feel like a promise.
“I’ll think about it,” Min says finally, though he knows it’s more than just a simple agreement. He doesn’t have the words to explain what he’s feeling, but somehow, Chung seems to understand.
They leave the classroom together in silence, walking side by side down the hallway. The air between them feels different now, not heavy, but full of unspoken understanding. For once, Min isn’t thinking about running away from this connection, and that thought alone makes his chest tighten in a way he doesn’t quite understand.
---
Later that week, after another long session of lab work, Min finds himself lingering outside the school, staring out at the sunset. He’s not sure why he’s waiting here, or what he’s expecting. Maybe he’s just trying to figure out what it all means—the way his heart races when Chung smiles at him, the way he feels strangely protective of him, the way he’s starting to look forward to seeing him every day.
And then, as if on cue, Chung appears beside him, leaning against the wall with a playful grin on his face.
“I knew I’d find you out here,” Chung says, his voice light, but with something else behind it. “You’re always lost in your thoughts, huh?”
Min looks at him, unsure of how to respond, but then he just... says it.
“You make me think about things I don’t usually think about,” Min admits, the words spilling out before he can stop them. He’s not sure if it’s a compliment or an accusation, but the moment feels too real to take back.
Chung’s expression softens, his gaze shifting from playful to something more sincere. “You know, I think you’ve got a lot more to you than you realize, Min. And I’m really starting to like what I see.”
The words hang in the air, unspoken truth between them. Min doesn’t know what to say, doesn’t know where this is going. But for the first time, he’s not afraid to find out.
