The Boy Who Didn’t Care
968 Words
Up close, he was even more striking and even more chilling.
His eyes didn’t hold the warmth of someone who had just been saved. They held the cold calculation of someone who didn’t think he needed saving in the first place.
“You were called to the office,” he said, his voice a low, smooth baritone that seemed to vibrate in the quiet hall. “Because you stood up for me.”
I blinked, letting out a short, dry laugh. “Oh, so you can talk. I was starting to think you were part of the furniture.”
He didn’t smile. He didn’t even flinch.
Right. Tough crowd.
“Anyway, it’s fine,” I said, crossing my arms to hide the fact that my hands were still a little shaky. “You don’t have to thank me.”
“I wasn’t going to.”
I stared at him, my mouth hanging open just a fraction. The sheer, unmitigated gall of this guy was… impressive.
“How about I treat you to something after school?” he asked.
I froze.
Treat? I was still wrapping my head around the fact that he could talk, and now he was casually offering an outing?
“I can’t,” I said, finally finding my voice. “I have basketball practice later. If you are so intent on treating me, you can just buy me a banana milk from the vending machine instead.”
He didn’t answer immediately. He squinted at me, his golden shadow eyes searching my face for a long, silent moment.
Then, he let out a heavy, audible sigh.
He turned on his heel and started walking toward the back of the campus.
“Coming or not?” he asked over his shoulder.
I followed him toward the courtyard. As we walked through the corridors, I could feel the weight of a dozen gazes.
The news of the cafeteria fight had clearly traveled faster than I had.
We reached the school garden, a quiet area with stone paths and a few wooden tables.
He headed straight for the vending machine standing near the wall.
A group of 1st years sitting at a nearby table went completely silent as we approached, their eyes wide.
I went to one of the tables and sat down, leaning back while he stepped up to the machine.
I watched him swipe his card, grab a banana milk, and walk over. He placed the cold carton on the table in front of me and immediately turned to walk away.
“Wait!” I called out, making him stop. “Where are you going? And what did you get for yourself?”
He looked back, his expression flat. “Nothing.”
“Sit down,” I commanded, gesturing to the seat opposite me. “I’ll buy yours. What do you want?”
He looked like he wanted to argue, but then let out another long suffering sigh and sat down. “Black coffee. Canned.”
I grinned and walked to the machine.
I bought a can of hot black coffee, which was a psychotic choice for this weather, but it seemed to fit his brand. I walked back and set it on the table in front of him.
I poked the straw into my milk and took a long sip. “Won’t you introduce yourself? Or is it strictly a ‘need-to-know’ basis?”
He didn’t look up from his phone. “Did you?”
“The… what?”
“Introduce yourself,” he repeated, finally meeting my gaze.
I bit my lip. Usually I had the upper hand, but he was playing a different game entirely.
“I’m Han Seo Ah,” I said.
“Min Jae Hyun.”
“You’re a senior?” I asked.
He nodded once, a slow, deliberate movement.
I’d heard the name, the senior who stayed in the shadows. Kang Min Hyuk was the Sun, Jae Hyun was the Dark Side of the Moon.
And then it clicked.
Not the name.
The stares.
I glanced around the garden.
The first years at the nearby table immediately looked away like they had just been personally threatened by eye contact. One of them nearly dropped his drink.
Oh.
Oh, you have got to be kidding me.
This whole time, I thought the cafeteria fight had turned me into today’s headline.
Turns out, I wasn’t the headline.
I was just… sitting next to it.
I looked back at him, still calm, still scrolling through his phone like he hadn’t just altered the social climate within a five-meter radius.
Right.
Good to know I’d accidentally walked into a different category of problem.
“Fascinating conversation,” I muttered. “I’m glad we did this. Your sparkling wit is really cooling me down.”
“What did the teacher say?” he asked, ignoring my sarcasm.
“Nothing major. Just a day of cleaning duty.”
“And the others?”
“A week each,” I said. When he gave me a suspicious look, I rolled my eyes. “I’m very convincing when I’m not being kidnapped for milk. I told them it was self defense.”
He gave a slow nod and returned his gaze to his phone.
Silence settled between us, thick enough to carve.
I watched him, wondering how a person could be this unbothered by another human being’s presence.
"Do you always ignore people this impressively?" I asked.
I leaned back in my chair. "Great conversation skills. You should teach a class. ‘Advanced Cold Shoulder: Beginner to Expert.’ I’d enroll just to understand what’s happening right now.”
Still nothing.
Unbelievable.
We finished our drinks without another word, the quiet stretching out like it wanted to swallow the world and honestly, at this point, I was considering letting it.
- Writer
