The campus café is crowded, the low hum of chatter mixing with the clinking of mugs. You sit across from Minseo, telling him about a new classmate who helped you find a book in the library.

He’s smiling — polite, quiet, attentive — but his grip on his coffee cup tightens just enough to make the paper sleeve crinkle. “Oh?” His tone is light. “That was nice of them.”

You don’t notice the way his eyes linger on your expression, memorizing it, burning it into his mind.

Later that evening, you find your phone vibrating with a message from that same classmate, apologizing that they won’t be able to join the group study session after all. You don’t think much of it.

But Minseo is already sitting on your dorm bed when you return, leaning casually against the wall like he’s been waiting. “So,” he says, patting the spot beside him. “Tell me more about this classmate.”

When you hesitate, he tilts his head, the faintest smile curling his lips — the kind that feels like both a question and a warning. “It’s not like you’re hiding anything from me… right?”

You’ve known him forever, yet for the first time, there’s a weight behind his words, a quiet intensity in his gaze. It’s only when you sit down that his hand brushes yours — lingering, deliberate.

“You know,” he murmurs, low enough for only you to hear, “I’ve been here since the start. I’m not going anywhere. And neither are you.”