╔. ■ .═════════════════════════════════════╗

╚══════════════════════════════════════. ■ .╝

THE TREK BACK FROM CHIRI-SAN felt like a completely different adventure compared to the chaotic journey there. The air was cooler, the sun kinder, and the bickering significantly less hostile. This was in no small part thanks to y/n, who had, quite literally, saved everyone's lives with her over-prepared snack stash.

It was ironic, really. The very same people who had mocked her the day before for "hauling a grocery store up a mountain" were now singing her praises. Kim Da-eun, a notorious health enthusiast who usually recoiled at anything processed, was the first to break. She had initially declined the Doritos with a pinched expression, muttering something about unnatural ingredients, but after three hours of hiking on an empty stomach, she caved.

"I swear," Da-eun said between bites of nacho cheese heaven, "this is a one-time thing... you will speak nothing of this to grandfather."

Y/n smirked, handing her another bag. "Your secret's safe with me. But you're welcome."

By the end of the trek, even Sensei Kim—stoic and unyielding as she was—had gratefully accepted a handful of trail mix, muttering something about survival prioritizing practicality over pride.

Kwon, however, was unusually quiet. The unspoken tension from last night hung between him and the girl like a fragile thread, neither daring to address it. He kept his distance for the most part, yet his actions betrayed his awareness of her every move.

When they reached a particularly steep section of the trail, Kwon didn't hesitate. Without a word, he stepped forward and extended his hand to her. y/n paused, glancing up at him with hesitation, but the determination in his eyes left little room for argument.

"Here," he said simply, his voice soft but steady.

Y/n placed her hand in his, and the warmth of his palm sent a jolt up her arm. He led her carefully down the rocky incline, his grip firm and unwavering.

"Watch your step," he murmured, his other hand hovering near her back, ready to steady her at a moment's notice.

"Thanks," she said, her voice quieter than she intended.

She didn't miss how he lingered for a moment longer than necessary once they reached flat ground, as if reluctant to let go.

In return, she found herself keeping an eye on him, too. She silently handed him her water bottle when his pace slowed, and he accepted it without protest, their fingers brushing briefly. Neither spoke, but the gestures felt loud enough.

The four-hour drive back was surprisingly pleasant, almost peaceful. Gone were the squabbles and complaints that had dominated the ride to Chiri-san. Instead, there was an easy camaraderie, punctuated by bursts of laughter.

Yoon Do-jin, the mother of the group, had generously sacrificed his AirPods to Sensei Kim to prevent her from sharing any more of her colorful taste in "music". "I'm doing this for humanity," Yoon had declared solemnly, sliding the earbuds into her hands.

The others, grateful for the reprieve, dubbed him a hero.

Meanwhile, Park and Lee took it upon themselves to craft the "perfect" ending for the group's inside joke fanfic. The two of them leaned toward each other, their voices low and conspiratorial. The hum of the engine masked their whispers as y/n and Kwon, blissfully unaware, sat in the back, sharing an unspoken détente of silence and occasional exchanged glances.

"Alright," Park began, opening Lee's notebook with exaggerated reverence. "We've set the scene—epic mountaintop confession, a harrowing descent, and now... Knuckles."

Lee nodded solemnly, pushing up his glasses. "Knuckles is the linchpin of this story. The audience will demand an heir to their legacy."

"Exactly," Park said, jabbing his finger at the blank page like it was a sacred text. "Knuckles isn't just their daughter... She's a symbol. A beacon of hope born from the ashes of awkward teenage romance."

Lee's eyes narrowed, the spark of inspiration dancing in his gaze. "And she must have powers."

"Powers?" Park echoed, leaning closer, intrigued.

"Yes," Lee insisted. "Inherited from both her parents. Jae-sung's scowl and y/n's... uh..."

"Ability to carry ungodly amounts of snacks?" Park offered, grinning.

"Precisely!" Lee slapped his palm against the page. "She'll be a warrior who can summon Cheetos at will—a vital skill in a world constantly on the brink of hunger."

"And the animals of Wakanda—"

"—will bestow their blessings," Lee interrupted, finishing the thought with a flourish of his pen. "The panthers will grant her stealth, the rhinos will give her strength, and the flamingos..."

Park paused, his face scrunching up in confusion. "Flamingos? Really?"

"Of course," Lee said, dead serious. "They'll teach her the art of balance. Imagine Knuckles standing on one leg, wielding a staff made entirely of corndog!"

Park gasped dramatically. "It's perfect."

"But we're not stopping there," Lee continued, his tone dipping into theatrical gravity. "Knuckles will unite the tribes of Wakanda and the local 7-Eleven franchises into a powerful coalition—"

"To fight against the evil forces of overpriced vending machines!" Park exclaimed, his voice rising in fervor.

"Yes!" Lee cried, clutching his notebook like a prophet delivering scripture.

"What are you two whispering about?" Yoon's voice interrupted their scheming. He turned in his seat, raising an eyebrow.

"Nothing!" Park and Lee chorused, their faces picture-perfect masks of innocence.

"Good," Yoon muttered. "We've got enough chaos without you two summoning flamingo warriors."

In the backseat, y/n glanced up at the sudden spike in volume but quickly dismissed it, too preoccupied with not falling asleep on Kwon's shoulder. Kwon, for his part, tilted his head slightly, watching Park and Lee with a mix of suspicion and mild horror before deciding it wasn't worth the effort to ask.

The car rolled on, oblivious to the birth of a legacy in its midst.

And as they reached the city of Seoul, the group felt a shared sense of accomplishment—and exhaustion. For all the chaos, camaraderie, and unexpected moments of connection, Chiri-san had been unforgettable.

And though neither Kwon nor y/n said it aloud, they both knew that something had shifted between them on that mountain...

As the car finally rolled to a stop in front of her building, the weight of the journey lifted off y/n's shoulders. She stepped out, letting the cool evening air brush against her face as she went to the trunk, unloading her backpack. She waved to the group one last time, her eyes lingering on Kwon for a fraction longer than necessary.

The tension that had simmered between them all morning was still there, an undercurrent neither could ignore. She turned and made her way toward the entrance.

Just as she was about to step into the lift, a voice called out from behind her, making her pause. "You forgot this."

Y/n turned, blinking in surprise. Kwon stood there, holding the bag of snacks she had accidentally left in the backseat. His face was slightly flushed, like he'd been working up the courage to speak to her, and he was a little out of breath, as if he'd rushed to catch up.

"Oh," she said, her tone a little flat as she took the bag. "Thanks."

Their hands brushed briefly as she grabbed the bag, and she couldn't help but notice how warm his touch felt. She gave him a tight smile, attempting to mask the awkwardness that seemed to cling to them like static electricity.

He shifted on his feet, his gaze flickering nervously toward the ground, before meeting her eyes again. His accent was thicker than usual, almost as if his words were weighed down with something more than just the casual conversation he was trying to initiate.

Kwon hesitated for a moment, his gaze flickering between the ground and her eyes. He looked almost as though he was weighing his words, clearly unsure of how to navigate the situation. "So, uh... about last night, you know... everything," he stammered, his voice a little softer, as though he was afraid of pushing too far.

Y/n's heart skipped a beat. She hadn't expected him to bring it up, but here it was—hanging between them, the tension thick in the air. She shifted on her feet, biting the inside of her cheek, trying to steady the fluttering in her stomach. She could feel her face heating up, but she forced herself to meet his eyes, even though they made her feel exposed.

"Yeah..." she said slowly, her voice a little quieter than usual. "About that..." She trailed off, trying to figure out the best way to respond without overthinking it. The last thing she wanted was to sound too rehearsed.

Kwon's brow furrowed slightly, the words still stuck in his throat. "I... I guess I just want to know how you felt about it," he muttered, his accent thicker now, as though the vulnerability was making him stumble over his own words. "I mean... if it was... okay for you."

The girl blinked at him, her stomach twisting. She wanted to say something reassuring, something that would put both of them at ease, but the words didn't come easily. Instead, she laughed nervously, the sound almost self-conscious. "Well... I mean... it's... it's not like I'm regretting anything," she said, her voice trailing off. She wasn't sure if that was the right thing to say. It was truthful, but there was something unspoken that lingered in the air between them, something neither of them dared to acknowledge fully.

Kwon nodded slowly, his lips pressing together as he processed her answer. "Okay," he murmured, but the doubt still hung in the air. "I just... didn't want it to be weird, you know?" His voice was barely above a whisper, almost like he was afraid she would think it was.

Y/n smiled, more to herself than to him. It wasn't a smile of certainty, but a smile that said, "I get it." She shook her head, looking down at her hands before looking back up at him. "It's not weird," she said softly. "It's just... one of those things that's kind of... hard to talk about."

Kwon's eyes softened, a quiet relief passing over him. He ran a hand through his messy hair, his lips quirking into a small, almost sheepish smile. "Yeah... I guess it is."

There was a brief silence, neither one of them really knowing what to say next. The air was still heavy, but there was a strange comfort in it, too. The awkwardness wasn't entirely gone, but it was different now—less tense, more... natural, in a way.

"Well, I'll see you tomorrow for the tutoring," she said, her voice a little firmer now, as if she was trying to bring some normalcy back to the situation. "Don't be late."

Kwon's lips twitched, a small, almost imperceptible smirk curving at the corners of his mouth. "Wouldn't dream of it."

Despite the awkwardness, he felt a sense of relief, knowing things weren't as strained between them as they had been earlier. At least there was still some semblance of sanity between them.

She nodded, about to turn away when her fingers brushed against the jacket still hanging loosely over her shoulders. She froze, suddenly aware that she hadn't returned it yet. Her heart skipped a beat as she looked at Kwon.

"I, uh..." She started, but her words faltered. She began to slide the jacket off, ready to give it back.

But Kwon stopped her with a soft voice, his tone surprisingly tender. "Keep it," he said, his accent more pronounced now, like he was just a little too vulnerable to sound casual. "It looks better on you anyway."

Y/n blinked, caught off guard. Her chest tightened at the sincerity in his voice, and she couldn't help but smile, even though her stomach fluttered with a mixture of emotions she didn't know how to process.

"Thanks," she murmured, the words feeling more meaningful than she intended.

For a long moment, they just stood there, the distance between them strangely comfortable despite the tension in the air. There was so much left unsaid, so many things they didn't want to confront just yet, but for the time being, this was enough.

Finally, with a small, almost reluctant smile, y/n stepped back. "Good night, Kwon."

The boy nodded, his eyes lingering on her for just a moment longer than necessary. "Take care," he said, his voice quiet, and she could hear the warmth in it, like a promise of more to come.

With that, they parted ways, the distance between them growing as she disappeared into the elevator. Kwon lingered for a moment longer, his hands shoved in his pockets, watching the doors close. There was a quiet ache in his chest, a mix of longing and uncertainty, but also something that felt... right.

He knew they'd have to talk about what had happened eventually, but for now, they had their own separate paths to walk. 

And maybe that was okay.

2.1k words