As they stepped out of the school building, the cool breeze of late afternoon brushed past them. The sky had started to shift into a softer shade of blue, streaks of orange slowly bleeding into the horizon. Students were scattered around the front gates—some chatting in groups, some rushing toward buses or waiting for rides. But in the midst of all the movement, Riwoo and Sungho walked in unspoken understanding, neither in a hurry, neither feeling the need to fill the silence.

Sungho glanced at Riwoo from the corner of his eye. He still wasn’t sure why he had stepped in back there. Maybe it was because he hated seeing people like that—people who thought they had the right to walk all over others. Or maybe, it was because it was Riwoo. Quiet, reserved Riwoo, who never asked for help, who never reacted even when people tried to get a rise out of him.

He shifted his bag on his shoulder before speaking. “They always do that?”

Riwoo, who had been staring ahead, blinked at the sudden question. He didn’t seem surprised, just contemplative. “Not always.” His voice was quiet, but it carried in the open air. “Most of the time, they just talk.”

Sungho scoffed. “Yeah, and today they shoved you.”

A beat of silence passed before Riwoo shrugged. “It’s not worth it.”

Sungho frowned at that. “Not worth what?”

“Reacting,” Riwoo said simply. “Giving them the satisfaction.”

Sungho mulled over that, his hands stuffed into his pockets. He wasn’t the type to stay quiet when something was wrong. But Riwoo—he had a different way of handling things. Sungho wasn’t sure if he admired that or found it frustrating.

They walked past a row of shops, the smell of freshly baked bread wafting from a small bakery on the corner. Riwoo glanced toward it absentmindedly, and Sungho caught the way his gaze lingered a second longer than necessary.

“Hungry?” Sungho asked.

Riwoo blinked, as if he hadn’t realized he had been looking. He hesitated before answering. “…A little.”

Sungho smirked. “Come on.” Without waiting for a response, he turned toward the bakery, holding the door open.

Riwoo stared at him for a second, then sighed softly before stepping inside.

The warmth of the bakery enveloped them immediately, the scent of bread, butter, and sugar filling the space. A few customers sat at small tables, quietly enjoying their pastries. The soft hum of a jazz tune played in the background.

Sungho walked up to the counter, glancing at the display of pastries. “Pick something,” he said casually.

Riwoo hesitated. “You don’t have to—”

“I know,” Sungho interrupted. “Just pick.”

After a moment, Riwoo sighed again but relented, his eyes scanning the options before settling on a simple sweet bun. Sungho nodded and ordered one for himself as well, paying quickly before Riwoo could argue.

They took their food and sat by the window, the golden glow of the setting sun spilling into the small shop. Riwoo was quiet as he picked at his bread, but Sungho noticed the way his shoulders had relaxed, the way his expression had softened just slightly.

“You always this quiet?” Sungho asked after a while, taking a bite of his pastry.

Riwoo looked at him, then down at his food. “Most of the time.”

Sungho tilted his head. “Why?”

Riwoo didn’t answer right away. He looked out the window, watching people pass by. “I guess… I just don’t see the point in talking when there’s nothing to say.”

Sungho hummed in thought. “But you’re talking to me.”

Riwoo’s fingers stilled against the paper bag of his bread. Then, without looking at Sungho, he simply said, “Yeah.”

Sungho didn’t push further. Instead, he let a small smirk play on his lips, taking another bite of his pastry.

For the rest of their time there, they didn’t talk much. But it wasn’t awkward. If anything, it felt like an understanding—one that didn’t need words.

By the time they left the bakery, the sun had dipped lower, the sky now a soft gradient of pink and purple. They walked in the same comfortable silence, side by side, their steps in sync without them even realizing it.

When they reached the street where their paths would split, Riwoo slowed his pace slightly. Sungho noticed.

“…Thanks,” Riwoo said after a moment, his voice quieter than before. “For back there. And for this.”

Sungho glanced at him before shrugging. “Don’t mention it.”

Riwoo nodded, gripping the strap of his bag. He looked like he wanted to say something else but didn’t. Instead, he gave a small nod before turning to head down his street.

Sungho watched him go for a few seconds before calling out, “See you tomorrow?”

Riwoo paused. Then, just barely turning his head, he gave a slight nod before continuing down the road.

Sungho stood there for a moment, watching until Riwoo disappeared around the corner. Then, with a small breath of amusement, he shook his head and started walking home.

Yeah. Maybe things really wouldn’t go back to the way they were.

And maybe… that wasn’t such a bad thing.