Chapter 27.1

Chapter 27.1

“What are you doing…!”

Yeon-ha gasped, horrified as she caught Min-gyu snapping a perfectly intact flower off its stem. His unapologetic response came with a smirk. “Sorry.” But who he was apologizing to, she couldn’t tell. His teasing grin rendered her speechless. The flower, now casually held between his fingers, carried a strange weight.

“You keep staring at it like I’m not even here. It’s starting to hurt my feelings.”

The absurdity of his comment made her frown slightly, but she froze when she noticed how close he had gotten. Her breath hitched.

Unlike her visibly flustered state, Min-gyu moved with calm precision. With unexpected gentleness, he tucked stray strands of her loosely tied hair behind her ear. The damp, ticklish touch of the flower’s stem against her skin made her flinch slightly. His hand brushed deliberately along her soft cheek before pulling away.

Caught off guard, Yeon-ha stared at him blankly. His gaze lingered before he chuckled softly.

“Damn, even the flower can’t outshine you.”

The sharp curve of his eyes softened, giving him an unexpectedly gentle expression. In his pupils, she caught her reflection—the way he looked at her, a mixture of amusement and something deeper.

“Why bother staring at flowers when you could just look in the mirror?”

By now, she was used to his corny jokes. There was nothing particularly unusual about them. So why, she wondered, did her chest feel so tight, as if tears were on the verge of spilling?

Through her blurry vision, she noticed Min-gyu studying her face intently. The realization made her quickly avert her gaze.

His voice, low and steady, broke the silence.

“Let’s go see all the flowers we want sometime soon.”

With that, he added, “But for now, let’s head inside.” As he draped an arm around her shoulders, the weight was grounding, easing the whirlwind in her chest just slightly.

—

They liked to think they’d seen it all, weathered life’s storms. But they were only 21. Mature for their age, maybe, but still riddled with gaps and scars left by what they lacked.

The sweet yet aching memory of that spring day left its mark on both of them, albeit in different ways.

Yeon-ha didn’t fully grasp her feelings at the time, while Min-gyu, though he cherished her presence, couldn’t entirely make sense of the moment either. All he knew was that the sight of her startled, vulnerable expression tugged at his heart—both tender and unsettling.

Perhaps expecting more from someone who had lived just as hard, if not harder, was unfair.

Even so, Yeon-ha clearly felt the way he wanted to take care of her. She recognized the sincerity in his touch, the unspoken desire to soothe her. You don’t need to be taught to understand such pure affection.

In his own way, Min-gyu comforted her. And in her own way, Yeon-ha felt entirely comforted.

The next afternoon brought rain. Min-gyu came in, slightly damp from the spring drizzle, having left without an umbrella. Yeon-ha glanced up briefly from where she was leaning against the living room wall, scrolling through her phone.

“Is it raining?”

“Yeah, a little.”

He ran a hand through his damp hair as if it were nothing and asked, as casually as always, “You been okay? Not feeling sick?”

Yeon-ha nodded silently. Like yesterday, and today as well, her being awake at this hour seemed to amuse him somehow. Without saying more, he removed his work boots. There was a black plastic bag in his hand, likely from stopping by the convenience store on his way back. He placed it haphazardly on the kitchen table before disappearing into the bathroom.

I could’ve met him halfway if he’d called.

The thought lingered, but chasing after him to say something like that felt too embarrassing. Instead, Yeon-ha got up abruptly and headed to the large balcony with its floor-to-ceiling windows. She raised the blinds all the way, opening the window and stretching her arm out. The drizzling rain felt cool as it landed on her palm. It wasn’t a heavy downpour, just a light, persistent drizzle.

From what she vaguely knew, the new site Min-gyu had been working at for the past month was nearby, which explained why he often walked home. Closing the window, she returned to her room to set her phone down. With four months left until her return to university, she’d been trying to make the most of her time by looking up certification and language study courses. She’d even picked out some textbooks and lectures, though she hadn’t bought them yet. For now, she was deeply engrossed in her rare burst of productivity.

While Min-gyu was still in the shower, she wandered over to the table to peek into the bag he’d brought. Predictably, it was all alcohol. Three bottles of beer and three bottles of soju.

Does he plan to drink all this?

She blinked rapidly at the sight. She knew he could handle his liquor, but still… She hadn’t seen him drink much recently. Why so much today? The unusually blank look he’d had earlier came to mind. Min-gyu might seem straightforward, but she’d come to realize he was often more complicated than he let on.

Did something happen?