The Gazes They Exchange (4)
“You said you’re not dating Minhwan oppa, so why are you always hanging around with him like that?”
A few days ago, Lee Hyun had asked her older sister, Lee Yeon, that question.
Lee Yeon had responded with a puzzled look on her face.
“We’re not strangers or anything. Do we really need to force some distance between us?”
Lee Hyun couldn’t quite wrap her head around her sister’s answer and pressed further.
“Still, isn’t it awkward being in that ambiguous spot between a guy and a girl?”
Lee Yeon smiled brightly at the question.
“Before we’re a guy and a girl, we’re like brother and sister. We’ve known each other for years—do you think we’d pretend not to see each other over something like that? We’re all adults now.”
For some reason, Lee Hyun felt a surge of irritation at her sister’s response. Even though the age gap wasn’t that big, she envied her sister’s cool demeanor while resenting it at the same time.
“What about Minhwan oppa? He’s usually so sharp and detached, like he’d cut you off cold turkey if you rejected his confession. He seems like the type who’d ghost you right away.”
Lee Hyun had spent plenty of time around Minhwan too, if not quite as much as her sister. He was sweet and brotherly toward her and Yeon, but with everyone else, he was like a blade—cold and precise.
But her sister’s reply had been unexpected.
“Minhwan oppa is cold? No way. He’s just honest about his feelings, that’s all.”
“Honest about his feelings? That’s it?”
Lee Hyun couldn’t understand. She’d known Minhwan since childhood and through school—he was the type who was fiercely possessive of what was his, never yielding an inch to others, with a selfish boundary he guarded like a fortress. And to protect it, he was always on edge, cold as ice.
But her sister seemed sincere.
“Everyone has some greed in them. Minhwan oppa’s just honest about it. Cold... If anything, Seonghwan fits that word better.”
“What?”
Lee Hyun was startled that Seonghwan had come up out of nowhere, and even more shocked at the idea of calling him cold.
“Did you mix up your sisters or something? Seonghwan oppa being cold? Unless you’ve forgotten what kind of guy he is...”
Minhwan always walked at his own pace, never adjusting. Seonghwan would glance around and match his steps to others. Even in those little things, their personalities were polar opposites. And it wasn’t just her—Yeon had spent plenty of time with Seonghwan too. How could she judge him like that?
“That’s not what I mean. Seonghwan’s considerate and kind. But he’s not always like that. He hides his greed and boundaries completely. He’s always laughing it off, accommodating you and everyone else, yielding left and right.”
Lee Hyun still didn’t get it. She knew Seonghwan was like that from watching him up close, but it had never been a problem.
As if sensing her confusion, Yeon continued.
“Everyone has a reverse scale—something that sets them off. Seonghwan’s is just so vague that people overlook it. But kids like that are the coldest. The ones who don’t seem like it flip out the moment someone touches that hidden trigger they didn’t even know they had. In that sense, Seonghwan’s not honest.”
Separate from agreeing or not, Lee Hyun felt annoyed at her sister talking like she knew everything.
“I’ve watched Seonghwan oppa just as much as you have. Why are you acting like you’re the only one who gets it? I know him even better. I don’t get what you’re saying.”
“No!”
Yeon cut her off sharply.
“You haven’t been watching Seonghwan. You’ve been watching yourself.”
“What? What does that even...?”
Lee Hyun was genuinely flustered. She’d known Seonghwan for years—did that mean she’d seen a ghost instead?
But Yeon was firm.
“You threw tantrums at him to make him look at you. You weren’t watching him. There’s a big difference.”
Her sister’s beaming smile was infuriating, but curiosity won out.
“What’s that supposed to mean? What makes you say that?”
“Seonghwan adjusted to you. Before you even looked at him, he was already watching you. His expressions, his actions—they’re all tailored to what you like, what you’d like. And you? You just see the Seonghwan who’s molding himself to you.”
“........”
It was a shock. Before they’d drifted apart, Lee Hyun had always been with Seonghwan. Being together felt easy, fun, warm. She’d fallen for that side of him and longed for it ever since. But it was all for her? So naturally?
“How do you know so much about Seonghwan oppa? Fine, say I didn’t see him right. Does that mean you did?”
Seonghwan was consistent with everyone, not just her. There was no pretense or show in it. No matter what Yeon said, she wouldn’t budge on that.
Yeon spoke as if she knew exactly what she was thinking, gently chiding her.
“I’m not saying the Seonghwan you saw was fake. Or that you saw him wrong. But is that all there is? Have you ever tried looking past the version you see right now?”
“....”
Saying he was consistent meant assuming he always would be. That’s why Lee Hyun had never imagined him changing.
Watching her sister fall silent in shock, Yeon kept smiling.
“Sometimes, watch from a distance. You might see it then.”
From a distance? Just like that? Me?
“Try to see the real Seonghwan. Step back a bit, observe him, and decide to adjust to him. He might be waiting for someone like that—someone to watch him break out of his shell, to cheer him on. We all need that sometimes.”
Her sister’s words strangely tugged at her heart. At some point, the conversation had shifted to Seonghwan, but Lee Hyun was too caught up to notice. She just tried to process it, pushing away the uneasy feeling of being left behind.
“Is this what striking gold feels like? What’s with the classroom vibe lately?”
“Can you call a picture you can’t touch striking gold? Eye candy’s more like it, right?”
The mascot of the “Advertising Expression Techniques” class used to be the awkward group dynamics as strangers slowly bonded. But now, it meant something else entirely.
Yoon Yesul, who’d permed her long straight hair into waves, was wearing a dress and heels today. Her sophisticated city-girl look drew stares from all over. The once plain Yesul was flaunting her slender, graceful curves, captivating every guy in the room.
And next to Seonghwan sat Yuri, still stuck with her “Ice Princess” title, her expression haughty as ever. But despite the look, the warming spring weather seemed to be getting to her.
Why’s her outfit getting shorter every day?
She’d occasionally dress up on purpose, but now it was her casual wear: short hot pants exposing her smooth, pale thighs and a t-shirt that showed off her collarbone. Her unchanged expression paired with lighter makeup gave her doll-like features a fresh, natural charm—different from Yesul’s polished vibe.
No wonder Younghwan and Hanjin were chattering from the back row.
Every time they whipped their heads left and right, the classroom’s guys were too busy ogling the two beauties to pay attention to the instructor.
“Alright, it’s April now. You all know this class is all-in on the group project, right? With so many groups, starting in May, we’ll have two groups present per session. So today, we’ll draw lots for the order. You’ll need time to prepare.”
Ugh?
Seonghwan nearly passed out in shock, and murmurs rippled through the room—not just from him.
Younghwan and Hanjin, in his group, started whispering in surprise too.
“What’s this? Aren’t we starting from group 1?”
“Whoa... damn. Talk about a gut punch.”
Seonghwan’s group was “Group 9.” Normally, they’d present mid-to-late June. They’d brainstormed a few times already, but this was like a bolt from the blue.
“Group leaders, come up and draw.”
Lots. The most primitive, foolproof way if the organizer called the shots.
So that’s why we prepped early?
“Ugh... screw it. Don’t blame me, guys. I’m infamous for my shitty luck with draws. Even if we get first, don’t hate me.”
Younghwan grumbled as he stood. Hanjin yawned lazily.
“Yaaawn. Come on, out of 13 groups, what are the odds we’re first? One in thirteen ain’t that easy. Relax. I’ll decide if I blame you after you draw.”
“Man... I got a bad feeling.”
Ignoring Hanjin’s “encouragement,” Younghwan went up, waited his turn, and drew. Seonghwan silently cheered him on.
No way it’s first, right?
But the world loves testing you right when you think “no way.”
Younghwan returned with an awkward grin, flashing a V-sign. His slip had a bold “1” on it.
“...You drew number one like it’s nothing? The one-in-thirteen guy’s right here. And you strut back flashing a V like it’s a win?”
“Fuck, you think I wanted this? My draw luck’s always been trash!”
“.......”
Hanjin slumped in defeat. Younghwan lamented his fate. Yuri just stared blankly at Seonghwan, lost in thought.
“Now, don’t be too down if you drew early. From teaching this class, I’ve seen that even with different media and methods, student ideas overlap a lot. Early slots get bonus points. It’s not copying, but ‘first-mover’ impact is huge. Think positive.”
The “comfort” didn’t land.
Easy for you to say. Who covers the pressure of going first? Midterms are coming too—time’s tight.
But the die was cast. No blaming others; their group was tight-knit enough.
“Anyway, wanna stick around for a quick meeting? Fire’s on our feet now.”
Younghwan bounced back, leader mode on. Everyone nodded.
“Sounds good, sunbae. Even if it’s April, May’s right around the corner.”
“We gotta outline it now to make the deadline. Prioritize this over other stuff, even if you’re busy. Check schedules—if someone can’t make it, others cover. No grudges.”
Younghwan was a solid leader: upfront about touchy stuff, straightforward.
“I’ll scout items. Midterms suck, but let’s power through together.”
And responsible. As soon as the instructor left, they pulled desks together, notebooks out, no complaints.
But Yuri’s gaze on him felt off.
Huh? What’s with her?
Not just the two of them here, so it was awkward. He glanced at Younghwan and Hanjin—no clue yet.
Seonghwan shot Yuri a warning look with his eyes. He wanted work and private life separate while eyes were on them.
But her eyes shifted behind him.
Huh?
Clack-clack. Familiar sound. He whipped around.
“Seonghwan, you guys are first, huh? Gonna be busy now.”
Yesul smiled warmly at him. Her look had changed beyond recognition, but that smile was as comforting as ever.
She smelled strongly of fruit now, unlike before. Her beauty stole breaths, and Seonghwan stared, momentarily speechless.
But the prickling from behind was impossible to ignore.
“Ah! Yeah, we got stuck first somehow. Super busy from now on. You heading to eat?”
“Yeah. Too bad, can’t join. Even if I wait, probably not.”
The laser-beam jealousy from behind intensified.
“Hahaha... yeah, probably not. Eat first. Wait, sorry. Got anyone to eat with?”
“Heh.”
His concern was real. Yun-su, him, her—the trio always together. Yun-su had lost his way; Seonghwan’s was shaken by Yuri. He felt bad leaving Yesul out sometimes.
But she laughed it off, waving her phone.
“Invites pouring in lately. Still adjusting, but department office trips are less awkward now. They look out for me. No need to feel bad. We can always eat ‘just us’ anytime, right?”
“Just us” hit hard. Someone reacted.
Thud. Guys staring at Yesul turned. Yuri leaned on the desk, glaring coldly at her.
Whoa, can’t breathe.
Murderous intent radiated from Yuri. Younghwan and Hanjin held their breath, sensing it.
Shit. Is Yuri gonna snap?
He imagined her grabbing Yesul’s hair. Yuri was sensitive to stares at her looks but oblivious to others watching her actions—that’s why the gym pics, the men’s room seduction, dragging him to secret spots.
Seonghwan half-stood to intervene, face urgent.
Yuri met his eyes, saw the panic, then turned away.
“Gonna hit the bathroom.”
She left. Tension hung; then Younghwan broke the ice awkwardly.
“Y-Yuri must’ve been urgent. Haha. Thought something was up with that icy look.”
“Dude, manners. Don’t say that out loud.”
“Eh... yeah, now that you say it.”
Ignoring their banter, Seonghwan watched her go. He knew: Yuri, who bulldozed everyone but him, had backed off for Yesul. Checking his face last, then leaving—that was her consideration.
Lately, he’d noticed her efforts to read him, avoid embarrassing him. Shocking to anyone who knew her.
Seonghwan felt sorry. Grateful. Honestly, deeply smitten.