Hyunwoo scanned the rows of seats, and for the briefest moment, Jiho swore those sharp eyes lingered directly on him. Then the smile returned—polished, warm, professional, as Hyunwoo crossed the room.
"Isn't he from the Fine Arts department?"
"Why's he here?"
"He's even handsome up close…"
"How does his hair always stay like that?"
Jiho slouched lower in his signature chair—the one spot in class where he had a perfect view of the professor and sound at just the right volume.
The seat beside him creaked. Jiho stared at his notebook, jaw tight, doing everything he could to ignore someone daring to sit within three seats of his special zone.
"Mind if I join you?" Hyunwoo asked lightly, already pulling the chair closer without waiting for an answer.
"Do I have a choice…?" Jiho muttered under his breath, annoyed that someone was sitting so close.
Hyunwoo let out a slight chuckle before flashing that signature smile, the girls two rows ahead practically swooning over it. "Technically, no."
The professor cleared his throat at the front, and the lecture resumed. Jiho scribbled in his notebook, pretending to take notes, but Hyunwoo's presence gnawed at his focus, leaving him restless in his own seat.
"Hyunwoo sunbae…" a girl a few rows ahead whispered, glancing back shyly.
Hyunwoo returned the look with a small nod and a smile polished enough to melt steel. Jiho couldn't help but glance over a couple of times, the whole interaction leaving him awkward and out of place.
Before he realised it, the professor had walked up to their desk. "So, you two are partners for the project?"
Jiho blinked, caught off guard. "…Wait, what project?"
The professor sighed. "The one I just explained. I'll assume you weren't listening."
Hyunwoo's lips curved in that same unshakable smile. "Yes, professor. We'll manage."
Jiho turned his head sharply. We'll what?
Since when did I agree to working with him?!
The lecture dragged on, though Jiho barely caught a word of it. His notebook was filled with half-scribbled sentences and doodles that looked more like stress relief than actual notes. It was the first time he was unable to focus due to someone being so... close.
Finally, the professor dismissed the class. Chairs scraped back and chatter filled the room as students began to file out.
"Seo Jiho, right?" Hyunwoo said smoothly, standing as though he had all the time in the world. "Can you help me with—"
But Jiho was already slinging his bag over his shoulder. "I'm busy," he cut in bluntly.
"Busy?" Hyunwoo echoed, amusement lacing his tone.
Before he could get another word out, Jiho pushed past him. By the time Hyunwoo turned to follow, Jiho had already vanished down the hall.
The walk across campus wasn't long, but Jiho's stride was clipped, his mood still sour from class. First day back and it's already a headache.
By the time the café's familiar bell jingled above the door, the tension in Jiho's shoulders eased a little. The smell of coffee grounds and warm pastries was grounding in a way the lecture hall never could be.
A voice calls out from behind the register. "Hyung! You're late."
Jiho glanced up to see Minseok leaning over the counter, apron askew, attempting to balance two cups of iced americanos in one hand and nearly spilling both.
Jiho sighed, dropping his bag behind the counter and rushing towards Minseok. "What the hell are you doing?"
"Relax, I've got it under control," Minseok grinned—right before a few drops sloshed onto the floor.
Jiho grabbed the tray from her with practiced ease. "Under control, seriously?"
Minseok scratched the back of her neck sheepishly. "Oppa, that's why you're the manager!" she whined. "I just make the coffee…"
Jiho rolled his eyes, setting the tray firmly on the counter. "You just make the mistakes."
Minseok pouted, clearly unbothered by his jab. "And the coffee! Don't forget the coffee." she adjusted her crooked apron, then leaned over the counter with a grin. "Admit it, oppa, this place would be boring without me."
Jiho gave her a flat look, though the corner of his mouth twitched. "This place would run smoother without you."
"You'd miss me in two days."
"I'd miss the broken mugs and sticky counters?"
"Exactly." Minseok winked before darting off to the espresso machine, humming loudly enough to annoy him.
Despite himself, Jiho felt the tension from class bleeding away. The café was small, tucked into the corner of campus, but it was his space—predictable, steady, nothing like the chaos of lectures. The steady hiss of steam and the quiet clinking of cups felt like white noise against the buzz in his head.
He slid behind the counter, checking the schedule pinned to the wall. Tomorrow's block had a neat note in his handwriting: Interview – 2PM. Finally, some backup. Between Minseok's clumsiness and the rushes that swarmed in after lectures, they needed an extra set of hands.
"Think they'll survive working with you?" Minseok asked over the roar of the grinder, as though reading his mind.
"They'll survive working with you," Jiho shot back.
She stuck out her tongue. "Tch. Rude."
The bell above the door chimed, a pair of students shuffling in for their afternoon caffeine fix. Jiho straightened, sliding naturally into manager mode. He took orders, tapped the register, and moved with the efficiency of someone who'd been doing this too long to think about it. Minseok darted around him, her energy chaotic but genuine.
By the time the last cup left the counter and the café was quiet again, Jiho leaned back against the wall with a sigh. "Peace at last."
"For now," Minseok chirped, leaning across the counter toward him. "So, big scary manager—what's the interviewee like? Male? Female? Cute?"
Jiho frowned, tilting his head. "I've only seen their resume. It's just another student."
Minseok smirked. "Mm, you sound defensive. Maybe it is someone cute."
"Well, you see cute guys dine here all the time," Jiho muttered dryly, reaching for a rag to wipe the counter.
She giggled, kicking her feet against the lower shelves. "Still. Whoever it is, I hope they can keep up. You're picky."
"I'm not picky," Jiho countered, wiping down the counter with short, efficient swipes.
"You are."
"Am not."
"Are too," Minseok sang, ducking out of his reach before he could flick water at her.
Jiho shook his head, a ghost of a smile tugging at his lips despite himself.
Hours slipped by in the steady hum of grinders, clinking cups, and the faint warmth of chatter. By the time the last table was cleared and the lights dimmed, the café had emptied into silence. Jiho wiped down the counter one last time, hung up his apron, and locked the door behind him.
The evening air was cooler, brushing against his face as he started the walk home. His body ached from the long day, but his mind was oddly clear—until the image of a flawless smile from earlier threatened to surface again. Jiho clicked his tongue and shoved his hands into his pockets.
Forget it. He's not my problem.
With that, he kept walking, the glow of the dorms flickering in the distance.