It had been two weeks since that terrible day—whatever it was—that Kai had endured. And yet, Beomgyu still didn't know what happened. Kai had grown distant, colder. He hardly spoke, and more often than not, he was with Taehyun now. It was as if he had completely forgotten about their friendship—about them.
Beomgyu had tried. He'd texted, called, followed Kai around when he could. But Kai barely responded, and when he did, it was with short, hollow replies. Even when they sat next to each other or shared lunch like they used to, it felt like Kai wasn't really there. There was a wall now. And Beomgyu didn't understand why.
He could sense that Kai was going through something—something heavy. But instead of opening up, Kai had turned inward, relying on Taehyun more than anyone else. It wasn't jealousy, not really. It was pain. Beomgyu wanted to help. He could help. After all, hadn't Kai always been there for him?
But Kai kept him at arm's length.
Worse still, Beomgyu had begun noticing strange things. Kai would mysteriously have more assignments than the rest of them, often multiple tasks for each subject, which didn't add up. Then, during lunch breaks, he'd disappear and come back pale, shaken, terrified. Beomgyu saw it all… and couldn't make sense of any of it.
Now, they were in class with Sir Soobin, who Kai once admired—idolized, even. But lately, Kai barely glanced at him. It was like he couldn't even meet his eyes.
Just a few days ago, Sir Soobin had called Beomgyu into his office. He was clearly worried and had asked about Kai—whether anything had happened. When Beomgyu asked if they'd argued, Soobin hesitated, only revealing that Kai had left unexpectedly the day they were baking together. Since then, Kai had refused to talk to him.
Beomgyu remembered how Soobin had quietly asked him to talk to Kai on his behalf. Every day, Beomgyu had tried. Every day, Kai had pushed him away.
And now, Sir Soobin stood at the front of the classroom, concluding a lesson on the circulatory system. Beomgyu knew Kai was barely listening, but the teacher's next words made the air in the room still.
"And that's it for today's lesson," Sir Soobin announced. "Any questions? Is everything clear? Good. Now—my question for the class: What is blood flow, and how does it move through the body? Let's see… Kai, can you answer?"
Beomgyu turned quickly toward Kai.
Kai's hands trembled on his desk. His eyes were downcast, focused on his fidgeting fingers. He didn't look up. He didn't even breathe. It was clear Sir Soobin had called on him deliberately—perhaps trying to draw him out, to see if he'd even look at him.
The silence in the classroom was stifling, save for soft murmurs.
"Kai?" Sir Soobin prompted again.
Finally, Kai stood. His voice shook as he spoke:
"B-Blood flow is a complex process critical for delivering oxygen, nutrients, hormones, and other essential products to organs and tissues, while removing waste. The circulatory system consists of two loops—pulmonary and systemic circulation. Pulmonary circulation begins when the heart pumps blood from the right ventricle to the pulmonary artery. In the lungs, blood exchanges carbon dioxide for oxygen. Oxygenated blood returns to the heart via the pulmonary veins into the left atrium…"
Beomgyu listened, both relieved and heartbroken. Kai's answer was perfect—textbook perfect—but his eyes glistened, and he never once looked up. Not even at Soobin.
From the corner of his eye, Beomgyu saw their teacher give a faint, bittersweet smile. There was hope in his gaze, a desperate attempt to make a connection. But it went unanswered. Kai remained detached, vacant.
"Very good, Kai," Soobin said quietly. "Thank you."
The air remained heavy even after class continued. Whatever had passed between Kai and their teacher, the wound was still fresh—and deep.
Before dismissing them, Sir Soobin announced their upcoming project: a paired presentation on the circulatory system. Each group would design a model and creatively explain the process by next week.
Beomgyu turned to Kai. "K-Kai? Do you want to partner up for the project?"
Kai glanced at him briefly. His nod was hesitant, his eyes distant. Not unwilling—but burdened. Beomgyu could tell. That wasn't just indifference—it was guilt.
As they left the classroom, Beomgyu ignored the jeers from classmates. He matched Kai's steps and cleared his throat.
"Kai, do you mind if we talk?" he asked softly.
Kai gave a slight look, signaling him to go on as they walked toward the cafeteria.
"I know you're hiding something," Beomgyu said carefully. "And I know you're going through something serious… but I wish you'd let me in. I've been feeling like a stranger lately. You lean on Taehyun all the time, and that's fine—I'm glad he's there for you—but I miss how things used to be. Why can't you treat me the same way?"
Kai sighed. "It's not like that. It's complicated. I'm sorry if I made you feel like that, Gyu… but you have to trust me. I'm doing this for a reason."
They grabbed trays and sat down at a table. The air between them was tense.
Then, as if on cue, Taehyun joined them, taking the seat across from Beomgyu. The timing was infuriating.
Beomgyu sighed. "You know what, Kai? Let's just talk more on Saturday at your place. We can work on the project then. That okay?"
Kai nodded, barely lifting his gaze.
None of them said a word after that. The silence lingered through lunch. Beomgyu couldn't even finish his food—his appetite was gone.
Later, Kai stood and excused himself, holding a stack of papers as he walked away.
Beomgyu watched him go, then glanced at Taehyun, who was still seated across from him. Their eyes met for a tense moment. Taehyun scoffed quietly and stood to leave… following Kai.
Beomgyu hesitated for a second before rising from his seat and trailing behind them.
Down the hallway, he heard voices—raised ones. He crept toward the sound, staying close to the wall, until he could peek around the corner.
What he saw made his blood run cold.
Taehyun had Kai behind him, shielding him protectively as he faced off against Mingyu and his crew.
"You've crossed the line, Mingyu! Stay away from Kai!" Taehyun shouted.
Mingyu sneered. "You just keep interfering, huh? Maybe I should teach you a lesson, little faggot."
Beomgyu's heart pounded as he saw Taehyun grab Mingyu by the collar and slam him against the wall, fury blazing in his eyes.
"Taehyun—stop! Please, let's just go," Kai begged, grabbing at his arm.
But Mingyu only grinned, clearly amused by the younger boy's rage.
"You touch Kai again," Taehyun growled, "and I swear, I will kill you. This is your last warning."
With one final shove, Taehyun let go of Mingyu and pulled Kai away.
Beomgyu stood frozen in the hallway. His fists clenched, mind racing. Everything was finally starting to make sense.
The extra assignments.
The disappearances.
The haunted look in Kai's eyes.
The jocks—they were behind it all.
And now Beomgyu knew.
He wouldn't let it continue.
+×+
Soobin sat at his desk, eyes staring blankly into space, lost in thought. His brows furrowed slightly, and there was a deep brooding in his gaze that hadn't lifted in days. Ever since that day with Kai, he hadn't been able to think straight. The boy haunted his mind—his silence, his sudden distance, the abrupt way he left. Soobin wanted to understand what had gone wrong. He wanted to fix it. But no matter how hard he tried to figure it out, it felt like trying to solve a complex equation without knowing the formula. The only thing he knew for sure was that he needed to talk to Kai… he just didn't know how.
Frustrated, Soobin let out a groan and dropped his head onto his desk, drawing the attention of Yeonjun, who was quietly working at the table beside him.
"Are you okay, Bin?" Yeonjun asked, glancing over with a smirk. "You've been looking pretty stressed these past few weeks. Worried I'm gonna snatch that promotion from you?" he teased with a light chuckle.
Soobin didn't laugh. He barely moved.
Yeonjun's smile faded slightly as he added, "Hey, don't stress too much about the promotion, alright? Let's just give it our best and treat this like a healthy competition."
But Soobin shook his head. "I'm not after the promotion, hyung. I don't even care about it anymore… because I'm not even sure I'll be staying here much longer."
That caught Yeonjun off guard. He blinked, confused. "Wait, what do you mean?"
Soobin sighed, his voice low and contemplative. "I just don't see myself fitting in here anymore. Maybe this isn't what I'm meant to do."
"You're saying… you're planning to resign?" Yeonjun asked, more serious now. "Then what? What's your next step?"
Soobin gave a small shrug. "I'm not completely sure. But I've been thinking… maybe it's time I pursue something I really love. Like opening my own bakery. Becoming a chef, maybe."
Yeonjun listened, nodding slowly. Part of him was genuinely happy for Soobin. The idea of Soobin following his passion sounded right. Still, the competitive side of him couldn't ignore the obvious upside—if Soobin bowed out, it would be easier for Yeonjun to rise to the top. And truthfully, he wanted that promotion. He had worked hard for it, and he wasn't going to let anyone—or anything—stand in his way.
+×+
In the quiet of the school restroom, Kai leaned against the wall, his phone pressed to his ear. His voice was soft, warm, laced with the kind of tenderness only reserved for the people who meant everything to him. Taehyun stood nearby with his arms folded, listening quietly.
"Don't worry. I'm fine, really," Kai said through a small, broken smile. "I miss you guys so much. I love you."
As he ended the call, tears streamed silently down his face.
Taehyun's heart clenched. Kai was sweet, loving, thoughtful—but he was also hiding too much. It hurt to watch him crumble like this, burdened by something he wouldn't even name. He gave Kai space, letting him cry it out, waiting until the younger finally managed to collect himself.
Kai turned toward the mirror, staring at the mess he saw in his reflection. His eyes were dull, ringed with exhaustion, and there was a deep sadness behind them.
"You okay?" Taehyun asked gently.
Kai nodded. "Yeah… I'm okay. Thanks for helping me earlier."
Without a word, Taehyun moved beside him and patted his back. Their eyes met, and for a moment, the rest of the world slipped away. He brushed Kai's hair back affectionately. Looking into Kai's eyes stirred something unfamiliar inside him—something warm and protective.
"You know," Taehyun began, "we all fight battles. Some harder than others. But no matter how bad things get, it's never a reason to give up. Life sucks sometimes, but you gotta fight for yourself, too. You deserve happiness, Kai."
Then, with a soft smile, he gently pushed the corners of Kai's lips upward with his thumbs.
"There. You look better when you smile. And I think I know how to help you keep it."
Kai blinked, puzzled, but followed without protest as Taehyun grabbed his hand and led him out.
Minutes later, they arrived at a small ice cream shop.
"Wait here," Taehyun said with a grin before disappearing inside.
He returned shortly with two cups. Vanilla for Kai, chocolate for himself.
"It's on me. You know, they say ice cream helps when you're feeling down."
Kai smiled faintly and took the cup. "Thanks…"
They sat together, eating slowly. The ice cream was sweet, but the moment was sweeter. They laughed softly, shared stories, and for a little while, it felt like the weight on Kai's shoulders wasn't so heavy. Taehyun didn't fully understand what was happening between them—but he knew one thing for sure: he liked being beside Kai. More than he expected.
+×+
Late at night, Beomgyu lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, unable to sleep. His mind raced with thoughts of Kai, of the jocks, of everything that had been unraveling around them. Something bad was coming—he could feel it—but he had no idea what to do about it.
A soft ping broke the silence.
He glanced at his phone.
A message from Yeonjun.
It was a selfie—Yeonjun sipping coffee at his desk, a faint smirk on his lips as he worked on paperwork. The caption read:
Yeonjun: Got bored, so I thought of sending you an update of what I'm doing. You still awake?
Beomgyu chuckled, the tension in his chest lifting slightly. Just like that, his mood shifted. He replied, and soon the two of them were chatting freely—about nothing and everything.
As they texted, Beomgyu's mind wandered back to that night. The dance under the stars. The city lights. Yeonjun's hand in his. The feeling of being seen—really seen.
He didn't realize he was smiling.
Eventually, the conversation came to a soft close.
Yeonjun: I'll see you tomorrow. Goodnight, Gyu. Sleep well.
Beomgyu stared at the screen for a long moment, then slowly brought the phone to his chest, hugging it close as he lay back down. His smile lingered, soft and quiet.
He wasn't sure what was happening between them, not exactly. But maybe… maybe he was already falling. And he hadn't even noticed.