Monday mornings at Hanseong High were always suffocatingly predictable. The teachers wandered the halls clutching their thermoses, drinking far more coffee than was medically advisable. The students dragged their feet to their desks, openly regretting their choices to stay awake until two in the morning. And, like clockwork, Shin Yijin showed up to class sporting a brand-new injury.
Today’s addition wasn’t as dramatic as usual, but it was impossible to miss: a small, fresh split on the very corner of his lower lip. It wasn’t severe enough to warrant stitches—just deep enough that the dried blood had formed a thin, reddish line against his skin.
Minju noticed it immediately. Of course she did. Minju noticed absolutely everything.
During homeroom, while the teacher monotonously explained the schedule for the upcoming week, Minju’s dark eyes drifted betrayingly toward the back of the classroom. There he was. Yijin was half asleep again, his cheek resting heavily on his broad palm. As he shifted, the tiny cut on his lip caught the bright morning sunlight streaming through the window.
The other students around him barely reacted to his battered state anymore. “Looks like Yijin got beat up again,” one boy whispered lazily to his neighbor. “Nah, he probably just fell down some stairs,” the neighbor replied. “My money’s on another cat,” someone else chimed in. “No, no. Last week was the cat,” a fourth student corrected.
Nobody bothered to question it anymore. Bruises and bandaids were practically part of Shin Yijin’s daily school uniform. But Minju knew something that everyone else in the room didn’t.
He isn’t a violent delinquent. In fact, he actively avoided fights whenever possible and absolutely hated hurting people.
Which meant only one thing, someone else had been in danger, and Yijin had gotten hurt because he had decided to step in and help again.
Minju let out a long, quiet sigh, her fingers tightening around her pen. “...Idiot,” she breathed.
The exact moment the lunch break bell rang, Minju was out of her seat. She stopped by Yijin’s desk. “Ya.”
He blinked up at her sleepily. “Hm?”
“Rooftop,” she commanded, leaving no room for argument. Already walking to the door.
Yijin rubbed the back of his neck as he stood up. “...That sounded less like an invitation and more like a court summons,” he mumbled.
“It wasn’t an invitation,” Minju said flatly as she turned to him.
He couldn’t do anything. Just a defeated, crooked smile. “...Yes, ma’am.”
The heavy metal door of the rooftop slammed shut behind them, echoing across the concrete. A warm spring breeze drifted lazily through the chain-link fence, carrying the scent of blooming trees. Yijin had barely turned around to face her before her hand shot out.
Flick.
“...Ow!” Yijin yelped, immediately grabbing his stinging forehead. “Why?”
Minju folded her arms tightly across her chest, her expression unyielding. “What happened to your lip?”
He averted his eyes. “..I bit it?”
Another flick.
“OW!” he whined, taking a step back.
“Liar.” she said, her voice dropping to a dangerous calm.
“I wasn’t finished!”
“You were improvising!” Minju took a deliberate step closer, backing him against the door. “So. What happened?”
Yijin scratched the back of his messy hair, looking everywhere but at her. “It’s really nothing, Minju.”
In a flash, Minju reached up and grabbed him by the ear, pinching the cartilage sharply.
“OW OW OW!” Yijin howled, leaning down to ease the pressure.
“It stopped being ‘nothing’ the exact second you lied to me,” Minju scolded.
“Okaaay! Okay!” he pleaded, tapping her wrist in surrender.
She finally let go. Yijin rubbed his sore ear dramatically, shooting her a betrayed pout. “...You’re becoming more violent.”
“You keep giving me reasons,” she shot back without missing a beat.
Yijin sighed, knowing he was trapped. “...Fair.” He looked away, the playful energy draining out of him. “An old lady got her purse stolen,” he explained quietly. “There was this guy running through the market, and he shoved her hard. The purse just flew out of her hands.”
Minju stayed perfectly quiet, her dark eyes locked onto his, demanding the rest of the story.
“I just... ran after him,” Yijin admitted, looking sheepish. “I caught him. He punched me.”
“And?”
“I punched him back,” Yijin said, a hint of defensive pride in his voice. “He slipped.”
“...”
“The police happened to be nearby on patrol,” Yijin continued, tracing a line on the concrete with his shoe. “They arrested him.”
Minju waited. “You didn’t even tried to dodge?”
Yijin winced. “I couldn’t- I mean.. dodging is gay.”
Minju stared at him, her brain trying to process the sheer absurdity of his words. “Dodging isn’t gay.”
“...it is,” he argued.
“It is smart.”
Yijin let out a nervous chuckle. “...It is indeed.”
Complete, heavy silence descended over the rooftop. Yijin offered her an incredibly awkward, smile. “...I just let him punch me, so I could throw back?”
Minju’s hand snapped out again. Flick.
“OW!”
“That was for being stupid,” she stated.
Another flick.