The fragile peace of Ji-won's evening shattered the moment he stepped into his apartment. The air was thick with the acrid smell of cheap wine and his mother's simmering bitterness from their earlier fight about the money.
She was slumped at the small kitchen table, a fresh bottle in front of her. Her eyes, glassy and sharp, landed on the bag of art supplies in his hand.
"What's that?" she slurred, her voice dripping with contempt.
Ji-won tightened his grip on the bag, trying to move past her without a word. "Nothing."
She let out a harsh, mocking laugh. "Don't 'nothing' me. It's more of your stupid little hobby, isn't it? Drawing? Painting?" She stood up, unsteady on her feet, and pointed a wavering finger at him. "You're just like him. You look like him, you act like him… and now you're wasting your time on the same useless dreams."
Ji-won froze, his back to her. A cold fury began to build inside him.
"Oh, he was so 'talented' too," she sneered, her voice a venomous impersonation. "He was going to be a 'great artist'. And where did that get him? Nowhere! A broke, pathetic dreamer who left us! And you're following right in his footsteps. Throwing away your future for some… some colors on a page!"
That was the final straw. Ji-won turned around, his face a mask of cold rage. "Don't you dare compare me to him."
"Why not? It's the truth! You have his same stupid, stubborn look in your eye when you pick up a pencil! It makes me sick!"
"Maybe he left because he couldn't stand being around a bitter, drunken mess who mocks everything he cared about!" Ji-won shot back, his voice trembling with a pain he usually kept locked away.
The words hung in the air, cruel and true. Han Mira's face crumpled, not into sadness, but into a deeper, more defensive fury. "Get out of my sight," she hissed, turning her back on him. "Go play with your stupid paints. See how far they get you."
Ji-won didn't need to be told twice. He stormed into his room, slamming the door shut. He leaned against it, his chest heaving, the bag of art supplies feeling like a lead weight in his hand. His mother's words echoed in his ears, a toxic mantra trying to poison the first spark of joy he'd felt in years. For a moment, he looked at the bag with disgust, wanting to hurl it across the room.
But then he remembered Haneul's face in the art store, beaming as he argued about the soul of a wooden palette. He remembered the scholarship flyer.
He clutched the bag tighter. His mother's words were meant to break him, to chain him to her misery. But for the first time, they felt like a challenge. He wouldn't let her bitterness be his inheritance. He would paint. And he would win. Not for her, but to prove her wrong.
The harsh words from his mother still echoed in the sterile quiet of Ji-won's room. He sat at his desk, textbook open, but the equations swam before his eyes, blurred by resentment and a deep, familiar ache. He was trying to rebuild his walls, brick by bitter brick.
Then, a soft ping.
His phone lit up on the desk. He glanced at it, expecting a notification from a school app.
It was from Haneul.
A small, simple message.
Haneul: Did you organize your new brushes? :)
It was so mundane. So utterly normal. After the ugliness he'd just endured, the simple, cheerful question felt like a lifeline thrown into a stormy sea.
Ji-won stared at the screen. He should ignore it. He should maintain his distance.
But his thumb moved on its own, unlocking the phone. His fingers, usually so precise and controlled, typed back a clumsy, honest reply.
Jiwon: Not yet.
He hit send. And as he stared at the two words in the chat bubble, a strange thing happened. The tight, angry line of his mouth softened. The tension in his jaw released. Without his conscious permission, without him even realizing it, a tiny, genuine smile touched his lips. It was just a faint curve, but it was there, softening his entire face.
---
Across the city, Haneul was lying on his stomach on his bed, kicking his feet idly in the air. He'd sent the text with little hope, already picturing Ji-won's read receipt with no response.
When his phone vibrated, he fumbled for it so quickly he almost dropped it.
He saw the reply.
Jiwon: Not yet.
Haneul's eyes widened. A brilliant, disbelieving smile spread across his face. He hugged his phone to his chest, rolling onto his back with a happy sigh. He'd done it. He'd actually gotten a response. It wasn't much, but it was a start. The tiny crack in the fortress wall had just gotten a little bigger, letting a sliver of light shine through for both of them.
Haneul's mind raced, searching for any thread to keep the conversation alive. His eyes landed on his school bag.
Haneul: What did you end up writing about me for the English assignment? The one from last time?
In his apartment, Ji-won read the message. A part of him, the old, guarded part, screamed to ignore it. But another part, a new, unfamiliar part that had enjoyed the simple text exchange, felt a flicker of something… playful.
He typed, a ghost of a smirk on his face.
Jiwon: I wrote that you are noisy, distracting, stubborn, and have a baffling obsession with baked goods. That's what I wrote about you.
He sent it, a strange, light feeling in his chest.
A second later, his phone buzzed with a string of pouting emojis and a dramatically wounded reply.
Haneul: !!!! 😠😤😭 That's so mean! Well, I wrote that you are a grumpy, mean, human ice cube who probably thinks smiles are a waste of facial muscles! So there! Very bad bad bad things!
Ji-won actually chuckled, a soft, quiet sound in his empty room. He found himself typing a retort, then another. He didn't realize when he had abandoned his textbook, getting up from his rigid desk chair and moving to lay back on his bed, the phone held above him. The posture was relaxed, unguarded—something he never allowed himself.
The conversation flowed easily, the playful insults a cover for a budding, easy camaraderie. Then, Haneul shifted topics.
Haneul: So! Tomorrow! I'm really excited for the dinner! It'll be so fun, all of us together! I'm paying for Doyun, of course, since it's his thank-you dinner! And Min-seo will be there! It'll be great!
The words "thank-you dinner for Doyun" landed differently. The playful ease vanished from Ji-won's expression. He stared at the message, the light feeling in his chest replaced by that same, irritating tightness he'd felt in the art store. The image of Doyun leaning close to Haneul flashed in his mind. He typed a reply, his fingers moving stiffly.
Jiwon: I see.
He put the phone down, the brief moment of warmth gone, replaced by a cold, confusing jealousy he didn't know how to process.
Haneul's bright smile faltered. The stream of happy messages had been met with a stark, two-word dead end: I see.
No "Okay." No "Sounds good." Just a flat, distant acknowledgment. His shoulders slumped as he put his phone away on the nightstand. He pouted at the ceiling for a moment, a little hurt by the sudden shift. But being Haneul, his natural optimism quickly resurfaced. He sighed, a happy, excited sound, and snuggled under his covers, his mind already painting vivid, joyful pictures of tomorrow's group dinner.
---
Across the city, in the stark silence of his bedroom, Ji-won was not feeling joyful. He lay on his back, phone discarded on his chest, staring into the darkness.
Why?
The question was a relentless drumbeat in his mind.
Why am I so irritated?
It made no logical sense. Haneul was simply being Haneul—generous, social, and excited to spend time with his friends. Doyun was one of those friends. The dinner was a logical extension of Haneul's personality.
But the thought of it—of Haneul smiling at Doyun, of buying Doyun dinner, of that specific, focused attention being on someone else—sent a sharp, hot prickle of annoyance through him. It was the same feeling he'd had in the art store, watching them interact. It was possessive. It was illogical.
He had spent his entire life not caring about anyone's attention. Now, the thought of losing the warm, persistent spotlight of one specific boy's regard felt… unbearable.
He clenched his jaw, the confusion twisting into a hard knot in his stomach. He didn't have a name for this feeling, but it was powerful, unsettling, and entirely centered on Lee Haneul.
The afternoon sun glinted off the flashing neon signs of the arcade. Ji-won stood a few meters from the entrance, hands in the pockets of his dark jeans—a stark, solitary figure amidst the chaotic cheer. He'd arrived early, a habit of control.
The next person to arrive wasn't Haneul.
Park Doyun strode up, his casual athletic wear doing little to hide his tense posture. He stopped directly in front of Ji-won, his gaze challenging.
"Hey," Doyun said, his voice low, cutting through the distant sounds of game music and laughter.
Ji-won gave a barely perceptible nod, his expression unreadable.
"I'll make this simple," Doyun continued, stepping closer, invading Ji-won's personal space. "Stay away from Haneul."
A flicker of something cold passed behind Ji-won's eyes, but he remained silent.
Doyun's jaw tightened at the lack of reaction. "You hurt him. You make him cry. Then you act like you don't. I see the way you look at him now, and I don't like it." He leaned in, his voice dropping to a threatening whisper. "I'm interested in Haneul. Seriously. So back off. Stop clinging to him."
The word "clinging" was a deliberate provocation. The silence between them stretched, thick and hostile. Ji-won's hands clenched inside his pockets. He finally lifted his gaze to meet Doyun's, and when he spoke, his voice was dangerously quiet, each word a shard of ice.
"You don't get to tell me who to stay away from."
It wasn't a denial. It wasn't an admission. It was a simple, cold statement of fact—a refusal to be commanded. The air crackled with unspoken rivalry, a silent battle over a boy who had no idea he was the prize.
The tense standoff was shattered by the sound of hurried footsteps and bright voices.
"Sorry we're late!" Haneul called out, slightly out of breath as he and Min-seo skidded to a halt. Min-seo was already rolling her eyes, muttering about Haneul's inability to be on time.
Haneul's gaze immediately found Ji-won, and his smile widened. "Jiwon-ssi! You're here!" His eyes swept over Ji-won's casual outfit—a simple black shirt and dark jeans—and a faint blush touched his cheeks. "You look... really nice."
Even Min-seo did a double-take, whispering, "Wow, the ice prince cleans up well."
Before Ji-won could process the compliment, Haneul happily looped his arm through Ji-won's, ignoring Doyun's frozen, glaring form completely. "Come on! Let's go in!" he said, practically dragging a stiff Ji-won through the arcade's entrance.
Doyun watched, his jaw clenched so tight it ached, before forcing himself to follow.
Inside, the arcade was a sensory assault of blinking lights, electronic beeps, and shouting teenagers. Ji-won looked around, his expression a mixture of bewilderment and disdain.
"Weren't we supposed to have a simple dinner?" he asked, his voice barely audible over the din. "Why are we here in the afternoon?"
Haneul beamed, his energy undimmed. "It's Sunday! Why just eat when we can hang out and have fun first?"
They moved to a racing game. Haneul and Min-seo hopped onto the seats, whooping as they selected their cars. Ji-won stood behind them, watching the screen with a critical eye. When it was his turn, he sat down with the same posture he used at his desk. He treated the steering wheel like a scientific instrument, making precise, calculated movements. His car promptly drove straight into a wall and exploded.
He lost. Miserably.
At a shooting game, he analyzed the trajectory of the targets with a furrowed brow but was too slow to react. He lost again.
He wasn't pouting or frustrated. He simply stood back after each failure, his arms crossed, looking entirely unimpressed by the entire concept of "fun." The chaotic, skill-based games held no appeal for his methodical mind. He was, quite clearly, bored.
A smug smirk settled on Doyun's face as he watched Ji-won fail yet again, this time at a basketball hoop game. Doyun had just finished a perfect round, showcasing his athletic prowess.
"Tough game," Doyun said, his tone dripping with false sympathy. "Maybe it's just not for you."
Ji-won simply placed the ball back in the return slot, his expression as blank as ever. He felt no shame in losing; the games were pointless.
Doyun puffed out his chest, glancing at Haneul, expecting to see admiration for his own skill. But Haneul wasn't looking at him.
Haneul was watching Ji-won, his brow furrowed in concern. He gently tugged on Ji-won's sleeve. "Jiwon-ssi… you don't seem to be enjoying this at all."
Ji-won took a small step back, creating distance. "I have never played these games before," he stated, as if that explained everything. "There's no logic to them."
The simple, honest admission made Haneul freeze. It wasn't that Ji-won was bad at it; he was completely out of his element. The arcade, Haneul's idea of fun, was just another form of isolation for him.
Instead of pushing, Haneul's face softened with understanding. He grabbed Ji-won's hand firmly. "Okay, then let's go!"
"Go? Go where?" Ji-won asked, bewildered.
"Somewhere else! Somewhere we can all enjoy!" Haneul declared, already pulling Ji-won toward the exit. "This was a bad idea. I'm sorry."
Min-seo, who had been watching the entire dynamic like her favorite reality show, sidled up to a fuming Doyun. "Oof. Tough break, Captain. All that flexing, and Sunshine over there just wanted to make sure his grumpy artist was comfortable." She grinned. "Your bl rival arc is not going according to plan, is it?"
Doyun scowled, his victory completely hollowed out. He had won the games, but he was losing the war for Haneul's attention, and it was infuriating.
They followed Haneul with growing confusion, which turned into pure disbelief when he stopped in front of a vibrant, fenced-in kids' playground, complete with brightly colored slides, swings, and a sandpit.
Doyun stared, his frown deepening. "A playground? Haneul, we're not five."
Even Min-seo looked unimpressed. "Yeah, this is a bit of a downgrade from the arcade."
Haneul just beamed, unlocking the gate. "I wanted to play and have real fun! We can't go to the amusement park, it's too far. So let's just play here! It's free!"
Ji-won looked at the small-scale equipment with deep skepticism. "What are we supposed to play here?"
Haneul's answer was to grab his hand and drag him toward the tallest slide. "This!"
It was awkward. Ji-won, tall and rigid, had to squeeze himself into the short, winding tube. He went down with a stiff, unamused expression, while Haneul whooped behind him.
Then Haneul spotted the swings. "Push me, Jiwon-ssi!" he pleaded, already settling onto a swing.
Hesitantly, Ji-won stepped behind him. He gave a small, tentative push.
"Higher!" Haneul laughed, kicking his legs.
Ji-won pushed a little harder. Then a little more. With each push, Haneul's giggles grew louder and more carefree, his hair flying in the wind. Ji-won found himself watching, mesmerized. The rhythmic creak of the chains, the sound of Haneul's pure joy—it all seemed to slow down. His own heart was beating a heavy, unfamiliar rhythm against his ribs.
Seeing this, Min-seo decided she wanted in on the action. She plopped onto the swing next to Haneul. "My turn! Doyun-ah, push me!"
Distracted and irritated by the sight of Ji-won and Haneul, Doyun stomped over. "Fine," he grumbled. He gave Min-seo a few half-hearted pushes.
"Harder!" she yelled, copying Haneul.
Annoyed and not paying attention, Doyun put all his basketball-trained strength into one mighty shove.
The swing shot forward with violent force. Min-seo's eyes went wide. "WOAAAH—!"
The swing reached its peak and, on the backswing, the momentum was too much. She lost her grip and was launched from the seat, landing with a soft, squelchy thud directly into a muddy puddle left by the morning's sprinklers.
There was a moment of stunned silence.
Min-seo sat up, covered in brown mud, her hair a mess. She blinked slowly.
Haneul had stopped swinging, his hand over his mouth in shock. Ji-won stood frozen.
Then, Min-seo looked down at her ruined clothes, then up at a horrified Doyun, and burst out laughing. "You idiot!" she cackled, wiping mud from her cheek.
The tension broke. Haneul started giggling, and even Ji-won's lips twitched into something dangerously close to a smile. Doyun looked equal parts mortified and relieved she wasn't angry.
The playground erupted into pure, unadulterated chaos. After Min-seo's muddy landing, she scooped up a handful of wet earth and splattered it right across Doyun's chest.
Doyun stood frozen for a second, looking down at his ruined shirt in disbelief. Then, a competitive glint lit his eyes. "You're gonna regret that!" He grabbed his own handful of mud and took off after a shrieking, laughing Min-seo.
The kids who had been watching with wide eyes suddenly saw this as an invitation. A few brave ones joined in, and soon mud was flying everywhere. Parents chuckled, pulling out their phones to record the bizarre sight of teenagers having a full-blown mud war.
A stray glob of mud hit Haneul square on the shoulder. He stopped laughing for a second, looked at the stain, and then his face broke into an even wider grin. "Hey! That's it!" He dove into the fray, laughing as he became a prime target.
Ji-won stood apart, a solitary, clean island in the sea of muddy chaos. He watched Haneul, now speckled with dirt, his laughter ringing out clearer than anyone else's. He was completely in his element—joyful, free, and utterly beautiful. And in that moment, Ji-won felt the final, fortified wall around his heart not just crack, but truly begin to melt. A warmth spread through his chest, so profound it stole his breath.
He was so captivated by the sight of a muddy, beaming Haneul that he didn't notice the conspiracy forming.
Doyun, Haneul, Min-seo, and a few of the braver kids locked eyes. They formed a silent, muddy circle, slowly closing in on the one clean person left.
Ji-won finally noticed the encroaching circle. He took a step back. "Don't," he said, his voice a mixture of warning and panic.
It was too late.
"GET HIM!" Min-seo yelled.
A unified volley of mud launched from all directions. Globs splattered across his black shirt, his jeans, his arms, and one landed with a soft splat right on his cheek.
Ji-won stood frozen, covered in mud from head to toe. The entire playground held its breath, waiting for the ice prince to shatter.
Instead, he slowly reached up, wiped the mud from his cheek, and looked at his dirty hand. Then, he looked at Haneul, who was watching him with a nervous, hopeful smile.
And Han Ji-won did something he hadn't done in years.
He laughed.
It wasn't a chuckle or a smirk. It was a real, genuine laugh that shook his shoulders. He bent down, scooped up a massive handful of mud, and with a look of fierce, playful determination, launched himself into the fight.
The sound of Ji-won's laughter—a rich, unexpected sound that seemed to surprise even him—was like a spell falling over the playground. The aunties who had been recording their kids paused their videos, their phones subtly shifting to capture the stunning boy laughing as mud dripped from his chin. A few of them fanned themselves, whispering to each other about the handsome young man.
The kids, who had been pelting him moments before, now stared in awe. The grumpy, clean stranger had transformed into a muddy, laughing giant.
But no one was more captivated than Haneul. He stood frozen, watching Ji-won's usually sharp features soften with unguarded joy. His heart felt so full it might burst. He wanted to capture this moment forever.
"Jiwon-ssi!" Haneul called out, his voice bright with excitement. "Let's take a picture! All of us!"
He quickly corralled a stunned Doyun and a cackling, mud-covered Min-seo. He then spotted the mother of one of the kids, who was already smiling fondly at them. "Ma'am! Could you please take a picture of us?"
The woman happily agreed, taking Haneul's phone.
They crowded together, a messy, vibrant group. Doyun, with his arms crossed in a mock pout. Min-seo, striking a dramatic, mud-splattered pose. Haneul, beaming with pure, radiant happiness right in the center.
And Ji-won. Haneul gently pulled him close, until their muddy shoulders were pressed together. Ji-won didn't pull away. He looked at the camera, and at Haneul's insistence, offered a small, genuine smile—a little hesitant, but real.
"Okay, everyone, say… MUD!" the mother called out.
"MUD!" they all yelled in unison, even Ji-won.
The camera clicked, capturing the moment perfectly: a group of teenagers, filthy and breathless, their faces alight with the kind of unscripted joy that only comes from complete, carefree abandon. It was a memory etched not just on a phone, but in the newly warm and beating heart of a boy who had just learned how to play.
The mud was drying into a crusty, itchy layer. They did their best to wipe it off with wet napkins Haneul miraculously produced from his pocket, but they only succeeded in smearing it into artistic streaks across their faces and clothes.
Haneul, meanwhile, was obsessively scrolling through the photos and videos the kind mother had sent him. He kept replaying the one of Ji-won laughing, a soft, besotted smile on his own muddy face.
"Okay, but we can't go to a restaurant like this," Min-seo stated, picking a piece of dirt from her hair. "What's the plan, Sunshine?"
Haneul thought for a moment, then his eyes lit up. "Let's go to my place! It's not far from here. My mom won't mind!"
The others, with no better options, reluctantly agreed. They managed to hail a cab, and the elderly driver gave them a look of profound suspicion and disappointment as four filthy teenagers piled into his clean backseat. They sat stiffly, trying to touch as little as possible, the ride passing in a silence broken only by the crinkle of drying mud.
When they reached the Lee household, Haneul bounded ahead and pushed the door open. "Mom! I'm home! And I brought—"
Lee Sun-hee turned from the stove, a ladle in her hand, and her jaw dropped. Her son stood in the doorway, caked from head to toe in drying mud, beaming as if he'd just won a Nobel Prize.
But the real shock came when Doyun, Min-seo, and finally, Han Ji-won—the boy she'd heard so much about—filed in behind him, each in a similar state of filth.
"…friends," Haneul finished, his smile never wavering.
The four muddy teenagers stood in a line in her pristine entryway, offering sheepish, mud-caked bows. "Hello, Mrs. Lee."
For a long moment, Sun-hee just stared, her eyes wide. Then, a slow smile spread across her face, and she let out a warm, understanding laugh. "Well," she said, shaking her head in amusement, "I see you all had a very... productive afternoon. Haneul-ah, take your friends to the bathroom. I'll find some clean clothes for everyone. And for heaven's sake, try not to track mud on the carpet!"
The bathroom was warm and steamy, a stark contrast to the chilly awkwardness filling the space. Following Haneul's lead, Doyun peeled off his muddy shirt and tossed it into a growing pile of dirty clothes, standing in just his shorts without a second thought. For an athlete used to communal showers, it was utterly normal.
Haneul, though a bit shyer, did the same, his movements quick and slightly flustered. He was used to the casualness of family, but this felt different.
Ji-won, however, stood frozen by the door, his arms crossed tightly over his chest. His heart was hammering. The concept of undressing in front of others was so far outside his realm of experience it felt alien and terrifying. His eyes were fixed on a spot on the floor, desperately avoiding the sight of Haneul's bare shoulders and back.
"Hey, man, it's okay," Doyun said, noticing his paralysis. "Just take your clothes off. We're all guys here."
The words were meant to be reassuring, but they only heightened Ji-won's tension. With stiff, mechanical movements, he finally unclenched his arms and slowly pulled his own black shirt over his head.
The moment the fabric cleared his torso, Doyun's casual demeanor vanished. His eyes widened.
Ji-won's body wasn't bulky like a basketball player's. It was a perfect, lean anatomy of disciplined control. Defined abdominal muscles, sharp collarbones, and the subtle ridges of a strong back—it was the body of someone who carried burdens, not weights. It was, undeniably, impressive.
But it was Haneul's reaction that made the air crackle.
He froze, a soft, involuntary gasp catching in his throat. His sketchbook images, born from imagination and stolen glances, were a pale imitation. The reality was so much more. The lines were sharper, the skin looked warm and real, and the quiet strength in Ji-won's posture was breathtaking. A deep, hot blush instantly flooded Haneul's cheeks and spread down his neck. He quickly turned away, pretending to be intensely interested in the shower knob, his mind racing a million miles a hour.
In the sudden, heavy silence, the three boys stood half-dressed, the unspoken tension between them thicker than the steam in the room.
The shower steam had cleared, replaced by a new kind of comedy. Doyun and Ji-won emerged from the bathroom, clean but looking utterly ridiculous. Haneul's cheerful t-shirts, one with a cartoon whale and the other with a smiling sun, were stretched taut across Doyun's broad chest and Ji-won's lean frame. The sleeves ended well above their elbows, and the hem of the shirts hovered precariously high.
Doyun looked down at himself and burst out laughing. "I look like a giant toddler!"
Ji-won merely stared at his reflection in a hallway mirror, his expression one of profound resignation. The cheerful sun on his chest seemed to mock his usual icy demeanor.
Haneul's mother peeked in and let out a warm chuckle. "Oh, dear. Those are a bit… snug. Let me get you something of my husband's." She returned with two simple, well-fitting polo shirts and pairs of trousers.
Once changed, the difference was night and day. Doyun looked comfortable and relaxed, while Ji-won looked surprisingly at home in the neat, adult clothing. They settled in the living room, the awkwardness of the bathroom slowly fading.
Then, Min-seo appeared in the doorway.
She was hesitating, shuffling her feet. She was wearing one of Lee Sun-hee's summer dresses—a soft, white fabric with tiny, delicate pink flowers. Haneul's mother had even gently styled her usually wild hair, tucking it behind her ears.
"Do I look… stupid?" Min-seo mumbled, her face bright red. She never wore dresses. She felt exposed.
The three boys stared.
Gone was the sarcastic, dramatic tomboy. In her place was a girl who looked… incredibly pretty. The soft lines of the dress suited her, and the styled hair highlighted features usually hidden behind a facade of bluster.
Haneul was the first to break the silence, his eyes wide. "Min-seo! You look… so beautiful!"
Doyun, for once, was speechless, just nodding in agreement.
But it was Ji-won's reaction that was the most telling. He looked at her, gave a slow, considering nod, and said in his typically blunt way, "It's a significant improvement. You look… nice."
Coming from him, it was the highest of compliments. Min-seo's blush deepened, but a small, genuine smile touched her lips. For a moment, in the warm light of the Lee family living room, surrounded by friends in borrowed clothes, all the mud and drama of the day melted away, leaving behind a perfect, peaceful moment of belonging.