Elise's POV
Birdsong. Soft sunlight through canvas. The far‑off roar of Akiu Falls. And a pounding headache that felt like a drumline.
I rolled over, the world tilting until I pressed my face into something warm and cocooning. Gradually, I sat upright. I was wrapped in a blanket and a hoodie. A huge hoodie. It smelled faintly of pine, detergent, and something else—maybe regret?
I yawned. "Whose—?" The question died on my lips. Slowly, I unzipped the tent. The air was crisp, heavy with dew. The fire pit was cold, the chairs empty. I rubbed the back of my neck. Had they left without me?
My heart lurched. But then ... I spotted movement at the second tent. It jiggled. Curiosity overrode my headache. I crept over and unzipped it. Inside were five lean, muscular guys packed like sardines.
Twan was snoring softly. James drooled onto Travis's shoulder. Travis slept sprawled, one sock off. Ryan's face was serene, one arm dangling. Minho sat upright, brow furrowed even in sleep. I cracked a grin. This was absurd.
Prodding James with a twig woke him instantly. "Hey prinze," I whispered, poking again. He swatted me away groggily. Next, I threw a pebble toward Travis. He mumbled, then sat up with a burrito‑roll groan. One by one, I "woke" the group, each protest louder than the last.
Ryan shifted. "Good Morning."
Twan stretched, pocketed a soda can. And then Minho, finally stirring, gaze meeting mine as he blinked awake. The morning air was thick with hangover and unspoken tension.
After a while once everyone regained their bearings...
No one needed instructions. The guys moved like clockwork. Travis groaned awake, pulled out soggy clothes and wrung them half-heartedly. James checked his phone, bleary-eyed. Twan yawned as he found a trash bag and started stuffing in snack wrappers. Ryan collected the folding chairs. Minho zipped up one of the tents—silent, efficient.
I sat by the fire pit, still wrapped in the hoodie, scarfing what was left of the grilled tuna sandwich James had tossed at me. My stomach hated me, but food helped numb the pounding in my head.
James gave me a light pat on the head. "You good?"
"Hangover from hell, but yes," I replied, mouth full.
"We're gonna scout breakfast options," Ryan called out, stretching his arms and cracking his back. "Market stalls should be opening near the station."
"I'm coming with," James said, already slipping into his sneakers.
"I'll drive," Ryan added. "Travis, you alive?"
Travis mumbled from under a hoodie. "Zunda mochi or I die."
Twan and James laughed.
"Minho, you wanna come?" Ryan asked, already slipping on his hoodie.
Minho didn't look up right away. He was tightening the straps on one of the backpacks, expression unreadable.
"I'll stay," he said casually. "Still a lot of gear to double-check. Someone's gotta make sure we're not leaving a single candy wrapper behind."
Ryan blinked, slow. "We all cleaned ten minutes ago."
"Then I'm doing a second sweep." Minho stood, brushing off his hands. "You know how Saejima is about these trips. If he finds out we left anything behind, we're toast."
James gave him a look. "Since when did you care about biodegradable napkins?"
Minho didn't answer. He just adjusted the strap on his bag and busied himself by the tent again.
Ryan's mouth twitched like he was trying not to grin. "Right. Double-checking the... trash."
I pretended not to hear that part, even though my ears were probably red.
Minho kept his back turned, but the silence from him spoke volumes.
Travis muttered something under his breath, probably "simp"—before yawning and dragging himself toward the car.
Ryan gave him a slow look—something between amused and knowing—but didn't say anything. "Alright. Let's go, sleepyheads."
In minutes, the boys were gone, their footsteps crunching through the gravel trail as they headed toward the car. And just like that, the falls were quiet again—save for the gentle rush of water and the wind shifting through the trees.
I stood and dusted off my joggers. Minho was already rolling up the sleeping bags.
"...You didn't have to stay behind, you know," I said, not really looking at him.
"I didn't mind." Minho replied.
Silence.
I took the trash bag from the cooler, tying it up while glancing at him from the corner of my eye. He was frowning, like always, but not at me, just at nothing in particular.
"About last night..." I started, then hesitated. "Was James serious?"
He looked at me, unreadable.
"I was drunk," I added quickly. "Maybe I imagined some of it."
"You didn't," Minho said.
The wind stirred again.
I swallowed. "Right."
He crouched by the fire pit, brushing away cooled ash and clearing the stones. "You don't have to overthink it. He was being honest."
"I didn't ask if it was true," I said before I could stop myself. "I asked if he was serious."
Minho looked up. "Do you want him to be?"
His voice was calm. Too calm.
"That's not the point." I replied.
He stood, brushing ash from his hands. "Then what is?"
"I just..." I hugged the hoodie closer. "I don't know what I'm doing here. With you guys. With this."
Minho's expression softened just slightly. "You're doing fine."
I laughed dryly. "That's rich coming from you."
There was a pause. Then—
"I notice things, Elise," he said.
That made me look up. "Like what?"
"You blend in too well," he said. "You laugh with them. You eat with them. Joke with them. It's like you've always been part of the group... but sometimes I catch you looking like you're miles away."
I was stunned silent.
"I get it," he said after a moment, quieter now. "It's not easy being thrown into something new and expected to just... swim."
I stared at him. "Is that what you think I'm doing? Swimming?"
"I think," he said, "you've been treading water this whole time. And you're good at pretending you're fine. But you're not."
The words hit me harder than I expected.
I looked away, blinking fast. "This hoodie wasn't yours, was it?"
He shook his head once. "Travis gave it to you."
"Oh." Was all I can say. I didn't know why that made something twist in my chest.
Another gust of wind blew through, and we both instinctively stepped toward the dying fire.
"...Do you think I'm a burden?" I asked before I could stop myself.
Minho looked at me like I'd just said something ridiculous. "No."
"You didn't even hesitate."
"Because it's not a question to hesitate on."
I exhaled. "Then why do you always act like I'm an inconvenience?"
He was quiet.
"I don't mean to," he said finally.
"Then what do you mean?"
He looked like he wanted to say something more. His jaw tensed. Then—nothing.
Instead, he picked up the last bag. "We should head out."
My chest was still tight, but I nodded. "Yeah."
We walked back toward the cars in silence—awkward, thick, but somehow... not unbearable. And when I tripped on a root, Minho reached out to steady me, his hand on my elbow for half a second longer than necessary. Neither of us mentioned it.
...
When we reached the parking area, the guys tossed the last bags into the car trunks, the morning mist still lingered like it wasn't ready to let go of the night.
I rubbed my eyes and leaned into the car door, hoodie sleeves pulled over my hands still sleepy and head pounding. James was stretching beside the Supra, groaning like an old man.
"Ugh. My back," he muttered. "Twan, remind me to never sleep between you and Travis again."
"Hey," Twan smirked. "It's not my fault you sleep like a dead person."
Travis, who had just emerged zombie-like from the car, mumbled, "Shut up."
"Still can't believe you confessed while she was drunk," Ryan added as he tossed a cooler into the Skyline. His tone was light, teasing.
My ears perked up. Wait... what?
"I told you, she won't even remember it," James muttered, rubbing the back of his neck.
"Still," Twan grinned. "Bold move, lover boy."
James rolled his eyes, then his gaze flicked to me and froze for half a second. "She's literally right there."
Too late.
I was staring right at him, expression caught between confusion and horror.
"I—what are you guys talking about?" I asked slowly.
"Nothing" James said, voice going high-pitched. "Nothing important."
"James said something sweet last night," Ryan said nonchalantly, walking past us toward his car. "Real poetic stuff. I almost cried."
James groaned into his hands.
And just like that, a faint blurry scene flashed back in my head—firelight, laughter, James's voice low, his hand resting near mine. "...it's fine. She's drunk. She won't remember any of this..." My stomach flipped. I decided not to press it. Not yet.
Instead, I slipped into the passenger seat of Twan's Supra. James grumbled and climbed in the back, pulling a jacket over his face like a turtle retreating into its shell.
"Let's just get food," Twan said, turning the key in the ignition.
...
After a few minutes. The convoy pulled into a cozy, quiet lot next to a wooden building lined with vending machines and cute banners. "Akiu no Sato," Twan read from the sign. "Looks like a tourist trap."
"Perfect," I said, hopping out. "Tourists get fed."
Inside, it smelled like fresh bread and warm soy sauce. There were steamed buns, onigiri, grilled mochi on sticks, and melon bread stacked in baskets. We all scattered like kids.
I grabbed an almond chocolate matcha and a cold bottle of milk tea. Behind me, Travis was loading up on yakionigiri. Ryan bought a stack of egg sandwiches "for the road," and Twan was comparing melon pan brands like it was a life decision. But, James was nowhere in sight.
When I found him, he was outside leaning against the car, sipping bottled water, watching the steam rise from his breath.
"Hey," I said, handing him an onigiri. "Breakfast."
He blinked, surprised, then smiled faintly. "Thanks."
I could feel the tension between us, but neither of us addressed it. Not yet.
...
The ride back was quiet—except for Twan humming something under his breath. I looked out the window, head resting against the glass, while James sat behind me, occasionally stealing glances.
When we finally arrived at the dorm, the guys moved like zombies. Slinging bags over their shoulders and muttering things like "nap," "shower," and "my back hurts" on loop. Minho was the last one out of Ryan's car. I lingered by the front steps as the rest filed inside.
"Minho," I called, biting my lip. "Can I ask you something?"
He paused, looked up at me.
"That night. When I walked off... with the other group? You and Ryan... you were talking about something before that, weren't you?"
"What do you mean?" Minho replied.
"Back at the trees. You were saying something. I didn't catch it. But it sounded... serious."
There was a flicker in his eyes. Something unreadable. A pause too long.
He exhaled. "You were drunk."
"That's not an answer."
"I was just saying Ryan owed me ramen."
I blinked. "That's... seriously your cover story?"
He smirked. "Is it working?"
Before I could reply, the front door creaked open.
"Elise!" Ryan called out. "Breakfast round two?"
"Coming!" I shouted back, but my eyes never left Minho.
He was already walking past me. No further explanation. Just that unreadable smirk. My jaw clenched. I didn't know whether to be annoyed, curious, or... Flustered? I shook my head.
"Stupid sake," I muttered, and followed them in.