Mint Candy Love - Chapter 2.3

“Hey. You have a class here?” Yoon replied, nodding.

“Yeah. It sucks. Understanding Literature and Digital Media, and my registration went to hell.”

“Why didn’t you just sign up properly?” Yoon teased, his mouth quirking into a smirk.

Dong-hoon scoffed, “Yeah, you would say that, Mr. Perfect Timetable.”

To Yoon, failing registration seemed impossible. It was a matter of hitting a button at the right time, after all. But he kept those thoughts to himself and shrugged. “I’m just saying,” he replied with a laugh, hiding the tiny thrill of smugness that crept up.

“C’mon, let’s go for a smoke,” Dong-hoon said.

“Sure.”

They made their way to the designated smoking area outside the humanities building. Yoon alternated between regular cigarettes and an e-cigarette, and today, he opted for the latter. As he waited for the device to heat up, he spotted someone familiar, standing a short distance away, phone in hand, clearly agitated.

“You’ve lost your mind! Stop yelling at me like that. I told you I come home every weekend, didn’t I? Are you deaf? You lock that door, I swear I’ll—” He cut off with an exasperated growl, jabbing at his phone as though it had insulted him personally.

Wow, Yoon mused inwardly, glancing at the furious figure with a mixture of amusement and awe.

It was his reluctant project partner. He had assumed Young-han’s aloof attitude in class was just a response to their pairing, but it seemed like he spoke that way to everyone. It wasn’t easy to maintain such a level of prickliness toward the world. Shaking his head, Yoon mentally replayed their conversation for the date plan, reducing Young-han’s contributions to a few choice phrases:

Not interested.

I don’t care.

Why would I do that?

His pretty face had given Yoon the impression he might be… similar in inclination. But no, it seemed he was more of a homophobe. This was the same guy who’d sneered when the professor suggested it was fine to pair up with someone of the same gender. Yoon had initially suggested partnering with him out of pure mischief, wanting to see him squirm when faced with his own assumptions. But he hadn’t expected them to actually be paired together. Perhaps fate had a sense of irony.

If he had to rate his first impression of this guy, it’d be a generous 2 out of 10. Appearance-wise, he’d consider bumping that up to 7, but his personality dragged it right back down. Even if he managed to score an 8 someday, he still wouldn’t be Yoon’s type.

Though Yoon wasn’t one to judge others openly, he was admittedly wary of people who were too quick to let their biases show. Yoon smirked to himself, then caught Dong-hoon eyeing him from a few feet away.

“What are you grinning about?”

“Ah, just that guy.” Yoon jerked his head toward the figure storming off.

“Oh, him. What’s his name?”

“Dunno,” Yoon said with a shrug, still watching the retreating figure. Pretty guy, terrible attitude. If nothing else, it seemed the general public had already picked up on his personality, and that wasn’t lost on Dong-hoon.

“Isn’t he in Poli Sci? I’ve heard he’s famous for being a jerk.”

Everyone seemed to know. Yoon nodded in agreement, raising an eyebrow in faint amusement.

“In terms of social learning theory, we acquire gender roles through observation and imitation…”

Sex and Communication didn’t have a required textbook. Instead, students followed along with materials posted on the online portal. The content, while not terribly exciting, was manageable. Unlike the frustrating group project, it was largely memorization-based, which suited Young-han fine. Absently twirling his pen, he focused on the presentation, scanning the lecture hall briefly. Despite it being a sociology course, no one appeared to be dozing off or fiddling with their phones.
Because they’re sitting with their so-called ‘partners,’ he thought, pretending to be couples for the semester. In an environment like this, he imagined it’d be hard to act otherwise.

Except for one.

To his right, Yoon’s head was bobbing like a chicken pecking at seeds, drooping forward, then snapping back up. It was irritatingly distracting, more so than if he’d just slumped over completely. Young-han shot him a glare, fighting the urge to throw something to jolt him awake.

Eventually, Yoon’s head dipped again, snapping up just as their eyes met. One of Young-han’s brows lifted as he regarded Yoon with clear irritation.

“Hey.” He finally whispered, his voice edged with annoyance. Yoon blinked at him, blinking away sleepiness.

“Just lie down and sleep, would you?”

“…Excuse me?”

“You’re distracting, bobbing up and down like that. If you’re not going to pay attention, just lie down or something.”
For a moment, Yoon simply stared at him, an incredulous look crossing his face. Then he snorted softly, muttering, “You must have the focus of a gnat. How on earth did you even manage to study before college?”

Teeth clenched, Young-han shot back, “Maybe if you didn’t annoy everyone around you. Did you come to college to mess around?”

“Why are you speaking informally? It’s rude.” Yoon’s gaze sharpened.

“Oh, your high school must’ve been fine with people sleeping through class. Never heard of ‘learning environment’? What a waste of tuition,” Young-han spat, folding his arms.

Most people would back down at this point, but Yoon just grinned, his eyes narrowing with an amused glint. Lowering his voice, he replied smoothly, “My apologies. I didn’t realize I was disturbing your delicate focus. I’ll stay alert for the rest of class.”

He raised his palm in a mock salute before pointing to Young-han’s notes with a faux-polite smile. Definitely mocking me, thought Young-han, simmering with barely concealed anger. This guy…

Yoon, however, quickly turned his gaze back to the professor, making no more attempt to acknowledge him. Better to let this one go, he thought, sighing inwardly. He wasn’t one to waste his time on petty squabbles.

Ten minutes before the end of class, the professor wrapped up early.

“Alright, for next week, your assignment is a reflection on your first meeting,” he announced. “Most of you are probably meeting for the first time, so it can just be a casual chat, maybe over coffee. Focus on your impressions and emotions, and keep it short and simple.”

As the professor left, a few latecomers approached him with questions. Feeling drained from paying attention to Yoon’s antics, Young-han slumped in his chair.

Just then, Yoon turned to him as though their earlier spat had never happened.

“When do you want to meet?” he asked, voice calm.

“Let’s just get it over with. Nine a.m. tomorrow.”

“Ah… I work late, so could we make it a bit later?” Yoon replied apologetically.

“Are you serious? I’m already sacrificing my Friday off for this. Unbelievable.”

Yoon sighed, nodding reluctantly. “Fine. Nine it is. Let’s meet at the café in front of campus.”

“Yeah, sure,” Young-han muttered, grabbing his bag and bolting for the door.

The next morning, at 8:57, Young-han checked his phone.

…Still no message.

He scoffed. They’d exchanged a few curt texts the night before—mostly brief confirmations about their meeting place and time. But now it was nearly nine, and there was no sign of Yoon. Frustrated, he dialed the number.
It rang and rang, but Yoon didn’t pick up. Again, he tried, with the same result. Just as the clock ticked past 9:02, Yoon finally appeared, hurrying up the café stairs, panting slightly, hair still damp and mussed. To make matters worse, he was holding a coffee pager in his hand.

“Ah… sorry,” he managed between breaths.

Before Young-han could say anything, the pager buzzed, and Yoon jogged back downstairs. Moments later, he returned with an iced Americano in hand, settling into the seat across from him.

Watching him, brows furrowed in irritation, Young-han’s annoyance was impossible to hide.

“Two minutes late, I see? And grabbing coffee made it three,” Young-han commented, his voice laced with dry sarcasm.
“Oh…” Yoon stammered, caught off guard.

“Guess you’re not great with time, huh? I was here ten minutes early. Isn’t that how it’s supposed to work?”
Though punctuality wasn’t common, it was for him—partially because it gave him these moments to call people out. As Yoon apologized again, head lowered, Young-han couldn’t help but feel his irritation flare. There was just nothing about this guy that sat right with him.

With a sigh, Yoon pulled his chair in, sitting down across from him. Arms crossed, eyes half-lidded in disapproval, Young-han was clearly unimpressed.

Flipping on the recorder app on his phone, he muttered, “Must be busy with all your jobs if you’re this late.”
Yoon, glancing up, replied in a mild tone, “Yeah… got off work at two in the morning.”

“What, are you bartending?”

“No, tutoring last night.”

This guy must juggle a lot, he thought, eyeing Yoon with mild curiosity. But remembering this was a group project, he kept his tone as unfriendly as possible.

“So, how many jobs do you have?”

“I usually do two during the semester.”

“Right. Normally, people share those details upfront. Guess you’re not big on communication?”

“Tutoring, bartending, and sometimes a convenience store job during breaks,” Yoon replied evenly, giving little reaction to his jab.

Unmoved, Young-han cocked his head, finally saying, “So… what should I call you?”

“My name works.”

“Which is?”

Yoon’s gaze was calm but firm as he answered, “You never asked.”

That cut his momentum. So he hadn’t actually told him his name? The realization felt like an insult, considering how carefully he always held on to his control in situations. Annoyed, he muttered, “Fine. Yoon Ye-jun, is it?”

Yoon just nodded.

“Think you should remember the name of the guy you’re partnered with, no? It’s not like we have a team of ten or something,” he pressed.

“To be fair, you never introduced yourself.”

Touché. The fact that he even remembered Yoon’s name hadn’t been deliberate—it was a result of his barely-hidden fascination with this guy. But still, it annoyed him.

Annoyed and feeling a tad foolish, Young-han finally offered, “It’s Ki Young-han.”

“Got it,” Yoon replied, not even bothering to look up from his coffee. The simple, indifferent response made the silence that followed almost unbearable.

The early hour had brought a steady trickle of other patrons into the café. Nearby, a table of freshmen and a smug upperclassman seemed to be mingling, the underclassmen laughing at every joke. Must be nice, he thought, watching them, annoyed.

Clearing his throat, he continued reluctantly, “I’m Ki Young-han, twenty-four, Political Science.”

“Yoon Ye-jun. Twenty-six, Media and Communication. Just came back after taking some time off,” Yoon replied casually, scratching his neck. His neck was slender, almost delicate, giving him a softer look than most guys he knew.
The curiosity he’d managed to suppress resurfaced. “So… why’d you even ask me to partner up in the first place?”

Honestly, he’d wanted to know. His face wasn’t hard on the eyes, he’d been told. He had decent height and came from a good family. Despite his attitude, he’d received his fair share of confessions. This, however—being roped into something with another guy—was a first. And for some reason, his mind kept drifting to his younger brother, tangled up in a similar situation.

Bluntly, he asked, “Are you into guys?”

The background music in the café seemed to fall silent, and he felt a few people glance his way in curiosity. Yoon looked back at him, utterly unfazed.

“No.”

“Ah.”

“I thought it’d be easier to work with someone of the same gender,” Yoon explained coolly. “I work late shifts sometimes, and it’s just easier for meetings. Wouldn’t want to make a girl uncomfortable meeting late at night. I would’ve asked whoever was sitting next to me.”

It was a reasonable explanation, but it didn’t make him feel any better. This wasn’t even about liking or disliking Yoon—it was more that his pride felt chipped away. He hid his irritation by taking a long sip of his iced coffee, letting the cool liquid help calm the heat creeping up his neck.