Bb

The fluorescent lights of the Student Union building always seemed to hum at a frequency that specifically targeted Yunho’s patience. It was late October, the kind of evening where the chill of the air seeped through the window frames, and the "Campus Connection Program" was the only thing standing between Yunho and a warm bed.

"Remind me why we didn't just join the Gardening Club?" Mingi groaned, his long legs tangled awkwardly under the small library table. "We could have just looked at dirt for three hours a week. Instead, we’re doing... whatever this is."

"Because Jongho said the Gardening Club was 'too quiet,'" Yunho replied, casting a side-eye at their youngest friend.

Jongho didn't look up from his tablet, his expression stoic. "I wanted something that looked good on a resume, not something that required me to buy overalls. Besides, the advisor said this program helps with 'interpersonal development.'"

"Interpersonal development," Mingi scoffed, leaning back until his chair creaked ominously. "Hard to develop anything when one half of the partnership acts like we’re the plague."

As if summoned by the complaint, the heavy glass doors of the study hall swung open. Two figures walked in, immediately shifting the atmosphere of the room.

Park Seonghwa was leading the way, his presence as graceful as it was intimidating. He was a senior, known throughout the department for his impeccable grades and even more impeccable style. But it was the person trailing half a step behind him who caused Mingi to sit up straight and Yunho to sigh.

Kim Hongjoong was small in stature but carried an aura that could flatten a stadium. His hair was a shock of dyed color, tucked under a black beanie, and his oversized leather jacket looked like armor. He didn't look at any of them. He didn't look at the room. He simply stared at the back of Seonghwa’s neck, his jaw set in a permanent line of defiance.

"Good evening, everyone," Seonghwa said, his voice smooth and polite as he took a seat across from the trio.

Hongjoong slid into the chair next to him, immediately pulling a sketchbook from his bag and flipping it open. He didn't offer a greeting. He didn't even acknowledge that there were three other human beings at the table.

"Hey, Seonghwa-hyung," Yunho said, trying to inject some warmth into the cold air. "And... hey, Hongjoong."

Hongjoong’s hand paused over his page. He didn't look up. He merely leaned closer to Seonghwa and whispered something in his ear. Seonghwa nodded, a soft, indulgent smile playing on his lips.

"Hongjoong says he’s ready to start the project outline," Seonghwa relayed, looking at Yunho.

Mingi rolled his eyes, not even trying to hide it. "He’s sitting right there, Yunho. We can hear him whispering. Can’t he just say 'hi'?"

Hongjoong’s shoulders stiffened. He scribbled something violently on the corner of his page, tore it off, and slid it toward Seonghwa.

Seonghwa read it and cleared his throat. "He says he doesn't see how his vocal cords are relevant to the completion of a sociology presentation."

"It’s a group project!" Mingi burst out, throwing his hands up. "Communication is literally the point! We’ve been at this for a week and I haven't heard his voice once. Does he even know my name?"

Hongjoong finally looked up, but not at Mingi. He looked at Seonghwa, his expression fierce and guarded, his lips moving in a silent, rapid-fire sequence of words that only the elder seemed to understand.

"He knows your name, Mingi," Seonghwa said calmly. "He just prefers to keep his circle small."

"It’s not a circle, it’s a fortress," Jongho muttered, finally putting his tablet down. "Look, we’re sophomores. We’re trying to make this work. But if he’s going to be feisty and dismissive every time we try to coordinate, we’re going to fail the peer evaluation."

Hongjoong slammed his sketchbook shut. The sound echoed in the quiet library. He glared at the table, his knuckles white as he gripped his pen. He looked like a cornered cat—all claws and hissed warnings, despite his silence. He leaned in and murmured something sharp to Seonghwa, his tone biting even in a whisper.

"He says if you're worried about the grade, you should focus on your own citations instead of his personality," Seonghwa translated, though he looked a little apologetic this time.

"Unbelievable," Yunho sighed, rubbing his temples. "We’re done for tonight. I can't do this if we’re playing a game of Telephone across a three-foot table."

---

Later that night, the three friends gathered in Yunho and Mingi’s shared dorm room. The air was thick with the scent of instant ramen and frustration.

"I’m telling you, he hates us," Mingi said, pacing the small strip of carpet between the twin beds. "What did we even do? We were nice! We offered to buy him coffee!"

"Maybe he’s just shy?" Yunho offered, though he didn't sound convinced.

"Shy people hide," Jongho said, sitting cross-legged on his bed. "Hongjoong doesn't hide. He stares at us like he’s deciding which of our jugulars to go for first. He’s not shy, he’s hostile. And Seonghwa just enables it. It’s like he’s his personal translator and bodyguard rolled into one."

"It’s just annoying," Yunho admitted, staring at the ceiling. "We have to do this for the rest of the semester. If he doesn't open up even a little bit, it’s going to be a long three months. He’s so... closed off. It’s like there’s a wall ten feet thick around him."

"I just want to know what his deal is," Mingi grumbled. "Nobody is that prickly without a reason."

---

The breakthrough, if it could be called that, happened two days later.

The group had met in a different part of the library, a corner with floor-to-ceiling windows that looked out over the campus quad. It was raining, a torrential downpour that turned the world outside into a grey, blurred mess.

The tension was at an all-time high. They were trying to decide on a thesis statement, and Hongjoong was being particularly difficult. Every suggestion Mingi made was met with a sharp shake of the head or a dismissive scribble passed to Seonghwa.

"Fine!" Mingi snapped, dropping his pen. "If you hate all my ideas, why don't you write one down yourself? Give us something to work with, Hongjoong!"

Hongjoong bristled, his eyes snapping to Mingi. For a second, it looked like he might actually speak. His mouth opened, a small, sharp intake of breath hitting the air, but then he caught himself. He gritted his teeth, his expression twisting into something remarkably like hurt before it masked over with anger.

He stood up abruptly, his chair screeching against the linoleum.

"Hongjoong, wait," Seonghwa reached out, but Hongjoong stepped back.

In the movement, the heavy frames of the glasses Hongjoong usually wore—the ones with the thick, dark rims that obscured half his face—slipped. He reached up to catch them, but he was too slow. They clattered onto the table.

For the first time since they had met him, Hongjoong didn't have a barrier.

He froze, his hands hovering near his face, his breath hitching. He looked directly at the three sophomores, his guard momentarily shattered by the sudden exposure.

Yunho felt the air leave his lungs.

He had expected Hongjoong’s eyes to be as sharp and dark as his personality. He had expected them to be cold. But as the light from the window caught them, Yunho realized he couldn't have been more wrong.

Hongjoong’s eyes were a startling, vivid kaleidoscope. They were large and framed by thick, dark lashes, but it was the color that stunned them. They weren't just brown; they were a deep, molten amber, flecked with shards of gold and a ring of soft, misty grey around the iris. They were expressive, swirling with a mixture of anxiety, brilliance, and a deep-seated vulnerability that he usually kept under lock and key.

In that split second, the "feisty" senior didn't look like a threat. He looked like a masterpiece hidden behind a barbed-wire fence.

Mingi’s mouth hung open. Even Jongho, who prided himself on his composure, blinked in surprise.

"Wow," Mingi breathed, the word escaping before he could stop it. "Your eyes... they’re..."

The spell broke.

Hongjoong’s expression flooded with a panicked heat. He snatched his glasses off the table and shoved them back onto his face, the dark frames snapping back into place like a visor. He didn't wait for Seonghwa. He didn't even grab his bag. He turned and bolted toward the exit, his boots thudding against the carpet.

"Hongjoong!" Seonghwa called out, quickly gathering both their belongings. He looked at the three younger boys, his usual calm replaced by a flicker of protective frustration. "I told you he’s sensitive. You shouldn't have pushed him."

"We didn't mean to—" Yunho started, but Seonghwa was already moving, chasing after the smaller boy.

The trio sat in silence for a long moment. The rain continued to lash against the glass, the only sound in the sudden vacuum Hongjoong had left behind.

"Did you see that?" Mingi whispered, his voice uncharacteristically soft.

"Yeah," Jongho said, his brow furrowed. "I’ve never seen eyes like that. It was like... like he was hiding a whole different person in there."

Yunho stared at the empty chair where Hongjoong had been sitting. He thought about the way the gold in Hongjoong’s eyes had flared when he was startled. It wasn't just beauty; it was a revelation. All the snapping, the whispering, the refusal to engage—it wasn't because he thought he was better than them.

It was because he was terrified of being seen.

"We have to fix this," Yunho said firmly.

"How?" Mingi asked. "He won't even look at us now, let alone talk. We saw the one thing he clearly wanted to keep hidden."

"We show him he doesn't have to hide," Yunho replied, though he wasn't entirely sure how they would manage it. "He’s brilliant, Mingi. Did you see his notes? They’re better than ours. He’s not just being difficult; he’s perfectionistic. He’s scared of failing, or scared of us judging him."

Jongho nodded slowly. "Seonghwa protects him because he knows how fragile that confidence is. If we want him to open up, we have to stop treating him like a problem to be solved and start treating him like a partner."

---

The next week was a test of endurance.

They met at their usual time, but the atmosphere was different. Hongjoong was there, buried even deeper into his oversized hoodie, his glasses pushed so high up his nose they practically touched his beanie. He refused to even whisper to Seonghwa now, opting instead to write everything down on a legal pad.

"Okay," Yunho started, his voice gentle. He pushed a cup of high-quality iced Americano toward the center of the table—the specific kind Seonghwa had mentioned Hongjoong liked in passing. "We looked over your notes from last time, Hongjoong. The ones you left on the table."

Hongjoong’s hand winced over his paper.

"They were incredible," Yunho continued. "The way you linked the social stratification theory to modern urban development? None of us thought of that. We actually scrapped our old intro and used yours as the foundation."

Hongjoong didn't move.

"I'm sorry I snapped at you," Mingi added, leaning forward, his large frame trying to look as non-threatening as possible. "I was frustrated, but that’s no excuse. You’re the smartest one in this group, and I should have been listening to your ideas, even if they were written on scraps of paper."

Hongjoong stayed still for a long time. Seonghwa watched him, a hand resting lightly on the younger boy’s forearm, waiting.

Slowly, Hongjoong’s head tilted up. The dark frames of his glasses obscured the kaleidoscope, but Yunho could feel the weight of his gaze. It wasn't as sharp today. It was searching.

Hongjoong picked up his pen. He wrote something quickly and slid the pad toward Yunho.

The theory only works if you cite the 2018 study on Seoul’s infrastructure. I have the link.

Yunho smiled, a genuine, warm expression that reached his eyes. "Thanks, Hongjoong. That would be a huge help."

For a split second, Hongjoong’s lips twitched. It wasn't a smile, not yet, but it was the absence of a scowl. He reached out and took a small, tentative sip of the coffee Yunho had brought.

He still didn't speak. He didn't take off the glasses, and he didn't lower the walls of his fortress. But as they spent the next two hours working in a silence that felt less like a battle and more like a truce, Yunho realized that some things were worth waiting for.

Hongjoong was a mystery wrapped in thorns, a brilliant mind locked behind a silent vow. But they had seen the light in his eyes—the gold and the amber and the grey. And even if he never said a word to them for the rest of the semester, Yunho knew they would keep trying. Because a person with eyes like that had stories to tell, and Yunho was patient enough to wait until Hongjoong was ready to tell them.

As they packed up to leave, Hongjoong paused at the door. He looked back at the three sophomores, his hand gripping the strap of his bag. He leaned toward Seonghwa and whispered something.

Seonghwa’s face lit up with a surprised, beautiful grin. He looked at Yunho, Mingi, and Jongho.

"He says... see you on Thursday."

It wasn't much. It wasn't a conversation, and it wasn't a friendship—not yet. But as Hongjoong turned and walked away, his head held just a little bit higher, Yunho knew the thorns were starting to thin.

"See you Thursday, Hongjoong," Yunho called out.

Hongjoong didn't look back, but he didn't speed up either. He just kept walking, a small, dark figure in a bright world, carrying a kaleidoscope of colors that he was finally, slowly, beginning to share.