〈 My Sunshine ╱ MarkHyuck 〉 (R-18+) ✓

TWO

The mirror reflected a boy made of mischief and hope.

Donghyuck smoothed his hair with both hands,
eyes gleaming with something close to joy.

"Day one. Let's not screw this up," he told himself,
then winked, flashing a grin that belonged in a movie.

He wore a cropped white top, black pants hugging his frame,
and red Converse like he was ready to run or dance—
whichever college asked first.

The door clicked behind him, locking on its own.
Before he left the corridor, he threw a glance
toward the unit beside his.
Just a glance.
The campus was sprawling, prestigious—
like stepping into the pages of someone else's future.

Donghyuck held his registration slip like a treasure map,
eyes scanning buildings that all looked too grand,
too adult.

"I really got in," he whispered in disbelief,
remembering the long nights of cramming,
and the miracle called Aunt and Uncle's support.

His friends—Jaemin, Jeno, Jisung—were here too.
But in other courses. Other classrooms.
Elsewhere.

The loneliness pinched his chest
as he entered the lecture hall alone,
scanning the crowd for familiarity,
finding none.

He slumped at his desk, lips puckered in a pout,
legs swinging like a bored child in detention.

⸻

The class was told to introduce themselves—again.
As if college forgot it wasn't high school.

"You'd think we were back in uniforms," Donghyuck muttered,
resting his cheek on his palm.

Still, he was paired with two strangers:
Jung Sungchan and Osaki Shotaro.

Shotaro smiled like sunshine breaking through a cloudy morning.

"Let's just get it over with," Shotaro chuckled,
giving Donghyuck's shoulder a light pat.
"I'll dance, you sing, he raps. We've got a group."

Donghyuck smiled back—small, sincere.

Lunch came like a blessing.
They sat in the campus food square,
trading names and histories like old friends.

"I'm from Gangnam," Sungchan said, eyes soft.
"But I wanted a new start."

"Osaka, Japan," Shotaro added,
"And yeah, I'm here chasing more than a diploma."

Donghyuck listened.
And for a moment, he didn't feel alone.
Meanwhile, Minhyung stepped into Seoul like a dreamer
writing his story in photographs.

He wandered through Namsan—
the wind tugging at his jacket,
camera slung around his neck.

"Three months," he whispered.
"Make them count."

He filmed everything. Trees. Faces. Sky.
Vlogging quietly, laughing to himself,
asking strangers to smile.

When he reached the wall of padlocks,
he stood in awe.
So many promises locked in metal and color.

"If I had someone," he thought aloud,
"I'd leave one too."

But he didn't. Not yet.

He skipped the cable car—
saved it for a day less lonely.

At the park, children's laughter filled the air.
He took photos of bikes, of families,
and thought of Vancouver.

"It used to feel like this," he said to no one,
"before everything changed."

By 4 PM, the city glowed golden.
Minhyung stood at a bus stop,
stomach full, camera heavy with memories.

Next to him, a red-haired boy arrived,
panting slightly, as if he'd sprinted after the day.

The bus pulled in.

The boy boarded first—
and then froze at the payment machine.

"Ah... wait... I... I thought I had—"
He frantically searched his pockets,
cheeks flushing in panic.

The driver scowled.

"No money? Then move!"

Minhyung stepped forward, without thinking.

"I'll cover his fare," he said calmly.

The redhead turned around, eyes wide with disbelief.

"Seriously? You don't have to—"

"I already did," Minhyung said, then took a seat by the window.

The boy followed. Sat beside him.

"Thank you," he said with a bright, bashful grin.
"I'll find a way to pay you back. I swear."

"You don't need to," Minhyung replied, eyes still on the city.

Silence followed. Soft. Companionable.

But the redhead's mind raced with thoughts.

"What's his name? Where does he live? What if I never see him again?"

He twisted his fingers in his lap, lips pressed tight.

They got off at the same stop.

"Wait... Are you following me?" Donghyuck joked.

Minhyung gave a lazy smile.

"Or maybe we're just heading the same way."

"Do you... live in a condo?" Donghyuck asked, squinting.

"Why do you ask like you already know?"

"N-No reason! I just thought... Maybe... You looked familiar."

Minhyung let out a laugh—gentle, amused.

"Relax. Yeah, I live in the same building."

Donghyuck's steps slowed.
Then it hit him.

"Wait. No way. You—
Are you the guy from next door?"

Minhyung turned to him, that smile returning like déjà vu.

"You mean the one you were spying on
through the door crack?"

Donghyuck turned beet red, groaning.

"I wasn't spying. I was... observing discreetly."

"Sure," Minhyung teased.
"Very discreet."

They laughed. Together this time.

"I'm Donghyuck. From Jeju. My mom basically kicked me here to study."

He held out a hand.

Minhyung shook it.

"Minhyung. From Vancouver. I'm just visiting. Three months."

"Your Korean's not bad."

"It's worse than it sounds."

"Then I'll teach you," Donghyuck said with a grin.
"You can come over whenever. Just knock. Loudly."

He paused.

"So... friends?"

Minhyung didn't answer right away.
Instead, he reached over
and gently ruffled Donghyuck's hair.

"Yeah," he said.
"Friends."

But somewhere between the laugh lines
and the silent glances—

it already felt like something more.