CEL 49

The world looked strange.

Nineteen or twenty, only difference lay in school uniform gone. One counted as adult, the other still minor. Now, Jaeha realized how childish early twenties felt.

“Well, young master arrived.”

“Ugh. Hey. Stop it, people will hear.”

“Let them hear. Though who knows if he will even speak with commoners like us.” Was that guy really same age as him?

Jaeha passed by Woojin, who was sneering at him, and sat down. After the card incident, Choi Woojin seemed to judge him as rotten rope, spat curses, then cut contact altogether.

He did not feel regret. In fact, he was tired of even replying, he thought it came at the right time.

Problem lay in the ruined class atmosphere. People split in half, some on his side, others on Choi Woojin’s. Whenever they gathered, the atmosphere turned awkward. Of course, for him it mattered little.

He propped chin on hand with a bored look. Some looked at him with pity, the others with contempt.

In past he might have broken into cold sweat, yet now his head filled only with thoughts of Seo Hamin. Others meant nothing. Just Seo Hamin, only that one beside him, would be enough.

“Are you at the Central Library?” 1:30 p.m.

No reply. Byt Jaeha knew how to make Hamin answer.

“Let’s do it while drinking coffee ^^”(gifticon) 1:35 p.m.

Seo Hamin

“I told you not to send these.” 1:36 p.m.

“Then shall we eat this together?” 1:36 p.m.

Even without seeing, he could picture Hamin sighing. Jaeha held back laughter. A classmate sitting beside him spoke carefully.

“Jaeha-ya, are you okay?”

“What?”

“That…”

Jaeha cut off the hesitant words.

“I’m fine.”

“I don’t believe those rumors about you. Most others don’t either… So, I hope you don’t get too… hurt.”

Only then did Jaeha raise his head. He looked at the face but could not recall the name. He indifferently nodded. The other looked uneasy, yet had nothing more to say. Fortunately, the professor entered and the awkward talk ended naturally.

While staring in front of him, he tapped his desk. He suddenly remembered a rumor he had once heard about Hamin at a drinking place.

Wasn’t this normal? Even if rumors spread, who just believed them?

Thinking of the law department idiots who swallowed nonsense whole made his insides churn. But the thought that no one stayed beside Hamin felt not entirely bad.

His thoughts wavered back and forth. He wished no one stayed near Hamin, yet when people slandered him, he got angry. It felt like he had gone insane.

He shifted his gaze, stared at his phone. No reply came back.

Midterms approached, Hamin got busy again. But unlike before, contact never disappeared completely. Sometimes they ate together and often exchanged messages. That should have satisfied him, yet something still felt missing.

While he was lamenting a text came from an unsaved number.

“Student Jaeha. These days, Yoojin’s condition looks really poor. Could you come by when you have time?” 1:47 p.m.

“This time I really feel something is wrong.” 1:50 p.m.

He ran his thumb over the letters, the two messages separated by time gap.

His last visit to the hospital was before he reached adulthood, so more than two years had passed.

For the caretaker lady, who had respected his wish not to contact him, to reach out now meant Yoojin’s condition truly had worsened.

Quite a long time had passed, yet he could remember the still air of the hospital room, the chill temperature, and the steady beat of the monitor. He pictured the thin woman lying at the center, and his fingertips turned cold.

A sound close to a sneer slipped from his mouth. Who else would recall his mother and feel the same way as he did?

He lifted his head, looked around. Even if someone did, it would not be here.

Faces dull with boredom. Hands fidgeting with phones in nervous panic. Pens held stiff against notebooks, eyes glued to the professor’s words.

When he placed his own face among people his age, it was strangely mismatched. It felt natural.

‘Jaeha-ya, I never wanted to give birth to you either.’

How could someone raised on such words belong among ordinary people?

A student in front pulled something from his pocket, and a receipt slipped out and fell to the floor.

Jaeha stared at it, then unconsciously picked up the trash. He pressed the crumpled scrap with his fingers, tried flattening it, yet its original form never came back.

He looked down at the wrecked receipt. Once paper crumpled, marks stayed no matter how much he smoothed it. Same for a torn-up heart. Once the shape changed, there was no way it could return to normal.

He blinked slowly, his eyes on the professor covering the board with red marker. For the first time in a while, the metallic tang lingered faintly inside his nose.

‘Jaeha-ya, why don’t we try drawing with this today?’

A calm tide inside him turned restless, his heart beat sped. He thought about stepping out for a while, but as he was hesitating he received a reply from Hamin.

Seo Hamin

“I’ll see” 1:58 p.m.

He covered his mouth with the back of his hand. He needed to hide hid lips stretching in ‎a smile that reached his ears.

He pictured Hamin’s face frowning and struggling over even those words. Too harsh to refuse, yet too busy to accept, so he dodged.

Jaeha traced the letters with his finger, a faint smile forming on his lips. His tangled mind settled. It always did.

Only Seo Hamin could make him like this.

It was not a feeling expressible with the simple word love. Seo Hamin always made him breathe alive.

‘What will you do after graduation?’

He had never thought about distant future. In a life where even a month, a week, no, even tomorrow felt uncertain, how could he plan anything?

Even now nothing had changed. He had no dream of trying something, no desire to become someone. But he did have one wish.

Even after graduation, even if he and Seo Hamin no longer belonged to the same group.

He wanted to remain at his side.

•••

A week later, the presentation day Jaeha had spoken of arrived.

He pulled his cap and headed for the Humanities Building. He had wasted some time dragging his feet, so he was tight on time.

He softened his footsteps as he entered the lecture hall. Despite the large enrollment, Jaeha’s back stood out. He spotted the bright dyed hair and drew near.

Jaeha noticed him, flashed a bright smile. He opened his lips, but with a glance at the student mid-presentation, he turned to his notepad and scribbled.

“You’re not late?”

With no real answer to give, he pretended not to see. Jaeha just laughed.

“Are you studying?”

“Of course.”

“Then when do you even study for exams?”

Hard to believe he had finished everything, since most of his hours seemed poured into talking with him. Hamin narrowed his eyes in suspicion, and Jaeha avoided his gaze. That face showed guilt without doubt.

“Yes, thank you. Next, student Han Jaeha.”

Perfect timing, Jaeha’s name got called, and he stood up. Hamin pulled his cap, lowered his head, afraid of meeting the professor’s eyes. Only his eyes moved, scanning the class. Some students looked at Jaeha with goodwill, the others did not.

Even without showing it in front of him, Jaeha had a certain fame, so a lot of people gossiped about him. Lately, talk spread that he was on bad terms with people in the department. Strange rumors kept circling. It was childish beyond words.

“Hello, I am Han Jaeha. I will begin my presentation.”

Hamin rested his chin in his palm and watched. Jaeha projected his slides and began his talk. None of the corrections Hamin had told him to make appeared. None of his advice had been taken. In the middle, Jaeha lost his words several times, covered them with awkward smiles. Hamin unconsciously smiled

What did he even know to act so confident?

At, A, Bt. Hamin felt the score drifting farther away, and he held himself back from laughing. Then he noticed not far away, the professor was watching Jaeha with the same expression.

While scribbling notes with a pen, the professor looked strangely entertained. Hamin’s eyes widened slightly, he stared forward, and right then Jaeha caught his gaze.

Those light brown eyes curved like half moons. That too-familiar smile pricked something inside him.

“…That concludes my presentation.”

The talk ended quickly. Jaeha bowed lightly at the formal applause and returned to his seat.

Did I do well?

He asked with his lips. Hamin’s expression twisted. Judging by the professor’s look, a B+ seemed possible, but A+ was out of reach. Could that count as good?

If he wanted a grade, listening to Hamin’s words would have worked better. So Hamin found it hard to even pretend.

“…Uh, you did well.”

Yet what came out of his lips opposed his thoughts. Only after whispering did he realize he actually meant it.

While Hamin sat confused, Jaeha’s face suddenly leaned close. A summer scent drifted to his nose.

“Of course. You’re the one who taught me.”

“…Me?”

Hamin asked, then Jaeha’s large hand tapped gently over his cap.

“Yes, you told me I could live like this.” Jaeha whispered, hid eyes fixed on Hamin, who stopped breathing.

Memories of their time together surfaced. Every word, every action, all cheered him to live his own way.

No situation had improved, he still was not fine. He still had no idea what Hamin thought.

‘That’s why no one stays around you.’

But.

“I’ll be on your side too. So, you should be on mine.”

“……”

“Then everything will be fine.”

If Seo Hamin stayed beside him, everything felt fine.

Hamin opened his lips then closed them again and again. His heartbeat thundered. If he gave space, the truth would jumped out.

Those words felt like they pierced straight through his anxiety. Breath stuck in his throat and his eyes aimlessly wandered around the class, but it did not feel unpleasant.

What did this boy know to keep speaking like this?

Hamin had never once in his life thought of himself as righteous. Words like integrity or justice did not suit him. Dishonesty, wrongdoing, those fit better.

He had chosen that path, and lived by that choice. Until Minjae spoke to him, he never even thought it wrong.

Only recently did he start wondering if his work, his desires, were right. But he hadn’t found the answer.

But Jaeha… always made those doubts meaningless. He acted as though everything Hamin said was justice itself and defined himself by Hamin’s standard.

That made him feel strange.

To care about Hamin’s diet, to hand him a toothbrush with toothpaste on it, to pity him for bending to others, loving someone like that became almost unavoidable.

Ah.

Hamin finally recognized the feeling he had avoided. His expression looked like he was on the verge of tears.

His heart churned and his head pounded. By habit he moved to press between his brows, but his hand slipped on the cap. Jaeha, who was watching him, gently took the cap off. He pressed on the right spot, eyes full of worry.

Hamin looked straight into his light brown eyes, filled only with him.

His heart swayed. Something inside gave way, and Jaeha took that place.

Though he had tried so hard to avoid it, in the end he faced the truth.

He liked Han Jaeha.

He liked his gaze, he liked his voice.

He liked the softness he showed only to him.

He liked him so much, he wanted to run away from this place immediately.