Chapter 5: The Rooftop
1230 Words
The next day, Ji-ho found Mia after third period.
"Roof. Now. Before the lunch rush." He was already walking.
Mia grabbed her camera bag and hurried after him. "Is this allowed?"
"Technically? Probably not." Ji-ho grinned over his shoulder. "But I've been doing it since sophomore year."
They climbed three flights past the regular floors, through a door marked in Korean she couldn't read. The stairwell grew dimmer, less polished.
Ji-ho pushed open the final door and sunlight flooded in.
The rooftop was nothing like the rest of the school. No designer furniture or curated aesthetics. Just concrete, air conditioning units, and a low wall. But the view—
Seoul spread below them. Skyscrapers catching afternoon light. Mountains in the distance.
"Wow," Mia breathed.
"Right?" Ji-ho set down his lunch. "This is my thinking spot. Where I come when school gets too much."
Mia raised her camera. The contrast between sterile perfection below and raw honesty up here. She took several shots—skyline, the door, Ji-ho settling down looking completely at ease.
"You really love photography," he observed.
"It's how I process things. When words aren't enough."
"That's beautiful." Ji-ho patted the ground. "Come on. Sit. Tell me how your first real day went."
Mia sat, pulling out the kimbap she had gotten from the cafeteria.
He opened his container—homemade lunch, actual care put into it. "The Min-woo thing yesterday. That was unprecedented."
"He said he was researching me."
"Researching." Ji-ho laughed, strained. "That's such a Min-woo thing. Everything's a calculation with him."
"You two are really different."
"Yeah." Ji-ho looked at the skyline. "We grew up together. Same elementary school. His family moved to our neighborhood when I was seven. He was the first kid who talked to me."
Something heavy in his voice. Nostalgia mixed with pain.
"What was he like before?"
"Lighter. More open." Ji-ho's expression turned distant. "His mom used to bring us snacks after school. Min-woo would laugh more. Joke around. He was competitive but there was joy in it."
"What happened?"
"His mom left when we were twelve. Just gone. Divorce. France, I think. His dad blamed Min-woo somehow. Started putting pressure on him. “You're a Cha. You represent the family. You can't show weakness." Ji-ho's jaw tightened. "He changed after that. Got colder. More controlled. Built walls."
Mia thought about Min-woo's eyes yesterday. The exhaustion and the way he uttered those words:“You don't know anything about me.”
"That's sad."
"It is. But he's also chosen to stay that way. Chosen cruelty instead of dealing with pain." Ji-ho looked at her directly. "I'm telling you this because I don't want you to get hurt. Min-woo isn't capable of real connection. He'll use people, study them, then discard them."
"Is that what he's doing with me?"
"I don't know. But I've seen him destroy people who got too close. Who thought they could fix him." His voice softened. "You seem like someone who'd try. And I don't want to watch you get broken."
The concern felt genuine. Protective without possessive.
"I'm not trying to fix anyone. Just trying to survive senior year."
"Good." Ji-ho smiled, heaviness lifting. "Now, more important question: can you handle spicy food? Because I brought extra tteokbokki and if you can't, more for me."
The conversation shifted. Ji-ho told her about basketball, his terrible cooking, accidentally calling a teacher 'mom.' He was easy to talk to. Comfortable. Safe.
Everything Min-woo wasn't.
But there's just something about Min-woo.
"Earth to Mia?"
"Sorry. Spaced out."
"I asked if you're going to the Fall Festival planning meeting Friday."
"There's a festival?"
"Every October. Huge. Performances, food stalls, everything. I'm helping with basketball exhibition." He nudged her shoulder. "You should volunteer for photography committee. Document it. Good for your portfolio."
"Maybe."
"Think about it. Meeting's in the main hall after classes." Ji-ho checked his phone. "We should head back. Lunch is almost over."
They gathered their things. At the door, Ji-ho paused.
"Hey, Mia? I'm glad you're here. It's nice having someone real to talk to."
Before she could respond, he'd disappeared down the stairs.
Mia stood alone on the rooftop. Raised her camera one last time and photographed the city.
Through the lens, everything felt possible.
She just wished real life came with the same filter.
Her afternoon classes passed in a blur of half-understood lectures and stares.
In calculus, the seat beside her stayed empty.
In history, students whispered when she entered.
In chemistry, her lab partner requested a transfer.
By the time school ended, Mia's skin felt too tight. She needed air.
The courtyard was full—groups on benches, studying or gossiping or existing in the way teenagers did when they belonged.
"Hayes."
She turned. Min-woo stood under a bare cherry tree. Alone. No entourage.
"It's Mia."
"I know." He walked toward her. "Where are you going?"
"Home. Dorm."
"Running away?"
"From what?"
"The stares. The whispers. The isolation." His voice matter-of-fact. "It's easier to leave than stay and face it."
Anger flared. "You don't know anything about me."
"No. But I know about being stared at. Whispered about. Having every move analyzed." He stopped. "The difference is, I'm used to it. You're not."
"What's your point?"
"You can keep running. Hide behind your camera. Or—" He paused. "You can stay. Come to the Fall Festival meeting. Show everyone you're not going anywhere."
"Why do you care?"
"Research." But something in his eyes suggested otherwise. "Also, it's boring when people break too easily."
"I'm not here to entertain you."
"No. You're here to prove you belong." He tilted his head. "So prove it. Meeting's in twenty minutes. Photography committee needs a volunteer."
"How did you—did Ji-ho tell you?"
"Ji-ho talks too much." Min-woo's expression shifted. Colder. "He told you about my mother."
Not a question. Mia didn't deny it.
"He was trying to explain—"
"Why I'm what? Cold? Cruel? Damaged?" Min-woo's voice stayed level but something sharp underneath. "Let me guess. He painted himself as the loyal friend. The good one."
"He wasn't—"
"He was. That's what Ji-ho does. Makes himself look better by pointing out everyone else's flaws." Min-woo stepped closer. "Did he mention he's the one who told the whole school when my mother left? That he turned my worst day into gossip?"
Mia's breath caught.
"No? Selective memory." Min-woo's smile was blade-thin. "Ji-ho likes playing hero. Protecting people. But ask yourself—who's he really protecting? You? Or his own image?"
"That's not fair—"
"Fair?" Min-woo laughed—short, bitter. "Nothing here is fair. But at least I'm honest about what I am. Ji-ho pretends."
He turned to leave.
"Wait."
Min-woo looked back.
"Why are you telling me this?"
For a long moment, he stared. Then—
"Because you should know who you're trusting." His voice softened. Barely. "And because I don't like watching people walk into traps."
He walked away.
Mia stood in the courtyard, mind spinning.
Her phone buzzed.
Ji-ho: Meeting in 15. You coming? I'll save you a seat.
Another buzz.
Unknown: Photography committee meets at 4. Don't be late. -CW
Two invitations. Two intentions.
She could go to her dorm. Stay safe. Invisible.
Or she could prove she belonged.
“You should know who you're trusting.” Those words came rushing back.
But who could she trust?.
- Writer
