Lee Min Jae – Childhood friend

The hurried sounds echoed through the small room. Water splashed hastily in the sink, the toothbrush clinked against the cup, and footsteps thudded restlessly on the cold tiles. A drawer was yanked open and slammed shut with a sharp thud. You rinsed your mouth while clumsily slipping an arm into the sleeve of your uniform, the other hand reaching for the backpack left on the chair. A quick glance at the wall clock showed the minute hand creeping dangerously close to the mark that signaled the start of class. Barely fifteen minutes left. As a senior in high school, you knew more than anyone how important punctuality was. Your heart pounded, breakfast was out of the question now, so you grabbed a notebook instead and dashed downstairs, footsteps pounding like you were racing against time itself.

The iron gate creaked open, and a familiar figure instantly caught your eye, your childhood friend. Beneath the shade of the tree in front of your house, Lee Min Jae had been waiting for who knows how long. He was dressed neatly in his school uniform, a crisp white shirt tucked beneath a light gray hoodie, topped with a well-fitted black blazer that lent him a composed air without stripping away his ease. A small, polished badge gleamed faintly on his chest. His black trousers fell in straight, perfect lines over long legs, and a backpack slung loosely over one shoulder gave him a touch of carelessness, almost nonchalant. The sight was both familiar and distant, composed yet tinged with a certain languidness that made you falter for a heartbeat.

He stood at an angle, tall and lean, his frame resting casually against the tree trunk. One hand was buried deep in his pocket while the other brushed aside strands of unruly black hair falling over his forehead. A chocolate bar rested loosely at the corner of his lips, adding to that air of careless indifference. The morning light traced the pale skin of his face, sharpening the striking lines of his features. His half-lidded eyes seemed cold and detached, as though the world around him barely mattered. But when you finally hurried out of the house, he tilted his head up, the furrow in his brow deepening, a silent sign that he had been waiting far too long.

Flustered, you ran toward him, bowing your head as your voice slipped out in barely more than a whisper: “Sorry... I overslept.” The apology had not even settled into the air when Min Jae’s husky voice broke in, low and curt, laced with the same familiar sharpness: “How many times has it been already? It’s the first day back to school and you’re still planning to be late?” The words sounded harsh, yet behind that frown you knew well enough it was only his way of hiding how much he indulged you. That brusqueness of his never truly bothered you, if anything, it had become something distinctively his, a strange blend of scolding and quiet gentleness.

As you turned back to close the gate, still fumbling, Min Jae moved without hesitation. He unzipped his backpack, pulled out a neatly wrapped sandwich, and held it out to you as if it were the most natural thing in the world: “Eat. I already know you skipped breakfast.” The short command left no room for protest, and it was your favorite kind of sandwich. The aroma alone made your stomach growl. Smiling, you reached into your own bag and produced a carton of milk, handing it to Min Jae in return.

In the midst of the hurried morning, you began nibbling at the sandwich, bite by bite. Beside you, Min Jae tore open the straw with his teeth, pierced it through the carton, and raised it to his lips. He drank slowly, unhurried, while matching his strides with yours. And so it was, one small figure chewing on a sandwich, the taller one sipping milk, the two of you walking side by side down the sunlit street toward the waiting school ahead.