Chapter Text
Through My Eyes
Chapter One
Seungmin was a third-year Law student at Yonsei University in Seoul, and could be described as a model student: good grades, a good family, and captain of the baseball team. He had never been particularly interested in social relationships; he had his group of friends from high school, and he was perfectly fine with that. The only two things he had to worry about were baseball and his studies.
“Kim Seungmin!”
His coach’s shout pulled him out of his thoughts and back to reality. He blinked a few times, focusing on the bat gripped tightly in his hands.
“Do you remember that the game is only a few weeks away? Stop sleeping on your feet” the man continued to yell at him.
His teammates remained silent. Some looked around, while others pretended to stretch. Seungmin turned toward his coach and nodded lightly, bowing forward in apology.
“You’re right. It won’t happen again.”
A shake of the head, the sound of two hands clapping together, and practice continued as if nothing had happened.
⊹₊ ⋆ ⟡ ⋆ ₊⊹
By the time practice was over, Seungmin had already left the field and was making his way to the locker room. His steps were quick, his gaze lowered, a towel hanging loosely over one shoulder. Losing focus during practice wasn’t something he normally did. In fact, he rarely had enough on his mind to distract him. But that day was different; his thoughts seemed to be wandering somewhere far from the baseball field.
After packing his things into his duffel bag, he swung it over his shoulder and left the small locker room before the smell of sweat and the chatter of his teammates could fully take over the space. He headed straight for the exit, not sparing a single glance at the players filing in behind him.
No one tried to stop him or call his name. Everyone knew it was best to give him space when he was in that kind of mood.
⊹₊ ⋆ ⟡ ⋆ ₊⊹
Although Seungmin would have much rather stayed home with his textbooks spread across his desk, his friends had practically forced him out of the apartment to enjoy a bit of Seoul’s nightlife. According to them, he spent far too much time buried in his studies, always ‘locked away in his own world’. As he walked alongside them now, hands tucked into the pockets of his jacket, he couldn’t help but admit that they had a point. Not that he would ever tell them that.
The streets of Hongdae were alive with energy. Neon signs bathed the sidewalks in shades of red, blue, and purple, while the warm glow of streetlamps spilled over the crowds moving from one venue to another. Music leaked from open doors and cracked windows, blending with the chatter of strangers, bursts of laughter, and the occasional shout from a group already tipsy enough to forget how loud they were being. It was one of Seoul’s most vibrant nightlife districts, a place that seemed incapable of sleeping.
The scent of grilled meat drifted from nearby restaurants, mixing with the unmistakable smell of alcohol that lingered around the pubs lined up one after another along the street. Every few steps, employees stood outside their establishments, trying to lure passersby inside with promises of cheap drinks and special offers.
Seungmin glanced around without much interest. Unlike most people his age, he had never been particularly fond of drinking. He tried to keep it to a minimum whenever he could. The reason was simple: he knew himself. One drink turned into two, two into three, and before he realized it, his judgment would become clouded enough for him to stop caring about things he usually paid close attention to. It wasn’t a side of himself he particularly liked.
“Should we go in here?” Hyunjin asked suddenly, pointing toward a pub near the corner of the street. Bright lights shone through the large windows, and the muffled sound of music could be heard even from outside.
“As long as they have food,” Jeongin replied immediately, placing a hand on his stomach and rubbing it in small circles as if to emphasize his point.
A scoff escaped Yongbok. “Jeongin-ah, can’t you ever eat a proper meal?” The blond shot him a mildly threatening look, though the amusement tugging at the corners of his mouth ruined any chance of it being taken seriously.
“I do eat proper meals,” Jeongin defended himself. “I’m just hungry again.”
“You were hungry thirty minutes ago too.”
“Exactly. See? This is a serious condition.”
The group erupted into laughter, and despite himself, Seungmin felt a small smile tug at his lips as they continued down the crowded street.
As soon as they stepped inside the pub, they were welcomed by a wave of warmth and the irresistible aroma of food coming from the kitchen. The sizzling sound of meat hitting hot grills echoed throughout the room, blending with the chatter of customers and the occasional clink of glasses. The place was crowded, filled with groups of friends and coworkers enjoying the end of their evening.
Seungmin barely had enough time to sit down before he heard a familiar sound beside him.
Growl.
He turned his head just in time to catch Jeongin clutching his stomach dramatically. A faint smile tugged at the corners of his lips.
Truthfully, he couldn’t even make fun of him. His own stomach wasn’t doing much better. He hadn’t eaten a single thing all day. Between lectures, baseball practice, and the endless pile of notes waiting for him back at his apartment, there had never seemed to be a good moment to stop and have a proper meal. Every time he thought about taking a break, another responsibility appeared. Another chapter to review. Another assignment to finish. Another training session to survive.
At this point, he wasn’t even sure whether the hollow feeling in his stomach came from hunger or anxiety. Maybe both.
Lately, it felt as though the pressure was slowly eating him alive from the inside.
The waiter barely had to ask for their order.
“Samgyeopsal.”
“And bulgogi.”
The answers came almost automatically.
Every single time they went out together, they ended up ordering the same dishes. Nobody ever complained. The routine had become comforting in its own way. Alongside the food came several bottles of soju and beer, enough to guarantee that at least one of them would become significantly louder before the night was over.
The grill in the center of the table was soon covered with strips of pork belly, the meat beginning to sizzle as soon as it touched the hot surface. A pleasant crackling sound filled the air.
Naturally, the responsibility of cooking fell onto Seungmin.
It always did.
While the others focused on talking and drinking, he grabbed the tongs and scissors, carefully cutting the meat into bite-sized pieces before flipping each one at the right moment. Nobody had ever officially assigned him the role, yet somehow he had become the group’s designated barbecue manager.
“When’s the game?” Hyunjin asked suddenly.
He poured soju into half-filled glasses of beer with the precision of someone who had done it hundreds of times before, creating four perfect glasses of somaek.
Seungmin’s gaze remained fixed on the grill.
“A few weeks.”
“That’s soon.”
“Mhm.”
Hyunjin handed him a glass, though Seungmin only took it after making sure the meat wouldn’t burn.
“You’ll be fine.” Before he could respond, Jeongin leaned forward.
“Who are you playing against?”
Seungmin already knew what was coming.
“Korea University.” The reaction was immediate.
“Oh.”
A brief silence settled around the table.
Not because anyone doubted Seungmin’s abilities. They knew how hard he worked. The problem was that everyone knew Korea University as well.
Seungmin swallowed quietly. Just hearing the name was enough to make his chest tighten.
Korea University’s baseball team had a reputation that extended far beyond university sports. They were fast, disciplined, relentless. Seungmin had watched footage of their training sessions more times than he could count. Their practices looked brutal compared to Yonsei’s. Every player seemed stronger, more prepared, more confident.
Sometimes he wondered if he was the only one on his team who felt intimidated by them.
The fear wasn’t losing.
The fear was being the reason they lost.
Missing an important play. Striking out at the wrong moment. Letting down the teammates who had trained alongside him for years.
His thoughts spiraled so quickly that he almost forgot about the meat sizzling in front of him.
“Seungmin-ah.”
The voice snapped him back to reality. Yongbok was watching him carefully from across the table.
The blond had always been frighteningly good at reading people.
“You’ll do great.”
The words were simple, yet sincere enough to make Seungmin pause. He looked around the table: Hyunjin was already halfway through his drink. Jeongin had stolen a piece of meat before it was fully cooked. Yongbok was still watching him with a patient expression.
His friends weren’t worried.
Not even a little.
A small smile finally appeared on his face.
“Thanks.”
He lowered his gaze back to the grill and began placing the perfectly cooked pieces of meat onto everyone’s plates.
The conversation quickly shifted to other topics, laughter gradually replacing the tension that had settled inside his chest. It didn’t disappear completely—the upcoming game still lingered in the back of his mind—but for the first time that day, the anxiety felt a little quieter.
⊹₊ ⋆ ⟡ ⋆ ₊⊹
“So, did you talk to him in the end?” Yongbok asked, looking over at Jeongin.
Time seemed to have slipped away without any of them noticing.
The table that had once been covered with neatly arranged side dishes and uncooked meat was now littered with empty plates, crumpled napkins, and several half-finished bottles of soju. The atmosphere had become louder, warmer, more relaxed.
Most of the group was at least slightly drunk by now.
The faint flush spread across Hyunjin’s cheeks, Yongbok’s unusually loud laughter, and Jeongin’s complete inability to stop talking were all proof enough.
Seungmin, on the other hand, had made a conscious effort not to drink much that night. He wanted to stay in shape for the upcoming game.
He watched them for a moment before leaning back in his chair. A dull ache had settled between his shoulders from spending most of the week hunched over textbooks and training equipment.
He rolled one shoulder before the other, stretching his back as discreetly as possible.
The restaurant suddenly felt too warm. Too crowded.
The air was thick with the smell of grilled meat, alcohol, and dozens of conversations happening all at once.
He needed a break. Just five minutes. Maybe ten. Enough to clear his head.
His gaze shifted toward Hyunjin, who seemed to be the least drunk among the others despite the number of empty glasses in front of him.
“Hyunjin-ah.”
The younger lightly tapped his shoulder with the tip of his finger. Hyunjin immediately turned away from Jeongin’s increasingly dramatic storytelling and looked at him.
“Hm?”
“I’m going outside for some air.”
For a brief moment, Hyunjin simply stared at him as if trying to determine whether he was secretly escaping the conversation.
“You coming back?”, “Eventually.”, “Suspicious answer.”
A faint smile appeared on Seungmin’s face.
“I’ll be back in a few minutes.”
Hyunjin finally nodded.
“Alright. Just text me if you’re planning on running away and starting a new life.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
“And don’t get kidnapped.”
“Why is that always your first concern?”
“Because look at you.”
“What does that mean?”
“Exactly what it sounds like.”
Seungmin shook his head, unable to stop the quiet laugh that escaped him.
“I’ll survive.”
“We’ll see.”
Leaving his friends to continue their argument, Seungmin grabbed his jacket from the back of his chair and made his way toward the exit. The moment the door closed behind him, the noise of the restaurant faded, replaced by the cool night air of Hongdae.
For the first time that evening, he felt like he could finally breathe. He remained there for a few moments, letting the cool night air brush against his skin before slipping his hands into his pockets and starting down the street.
Without even thinking about it, his feet carried him toward the Hongdae Batting Cage.
As much as he wanted to clear his mind, he couldn’t. Every time he tried to focus on something else, his thoughts drifted back to the upcoming game, the pressure of performing well, and the fear of disappointing the people counting on him.
Baseball had always been his escape.
His outlet.
His way of dealing with emotions he didn’t know how to express.
For Seungmin, taking his frustrations out on baseballs was infinitely easier than putting his feelings into words. He had never been particularly good at talking about what was bothering him. Whenever something weighed on his mind, he preferred to keep it to himself and deal with it alone.
By the time he arrived, the batting cage was quieter than he had expected. A few cages were occupied, but most stood empty, illuminated by harsh fluorescent lights that contrasted with the darkness outside.
After paying for a set of forty pitches, he made his way toward one of the available cages. His jacket was tossed carelessly onto a nearby chair, forgotten almost immediately.
He stretched his arms above his head before rolling his shoulders, trying to release some of the tension that had built up throughout the day. Then he reached for one of the bats provided by the facility.
The familiar weight settled comfortably in his hands. Instantly, something inside him relaxed.
His fingers tightened around the handle. He stepped into position. Adjusted his footing. Took a breath.
Then the machine came to life. The first ball shot toward him.
Crack.
A clean hit.
Another followed.
Crack.
Then another.
And another.
For a while, everything felt easy. The repetitive rhythm of swinging the bat allowed his mind to empty itself of everything else. The sound of contact echoed through the cage, each successful hit bringing a small sense of relief.
One. Two. Five. Ten.
He connected with every single one. But as the machine gradually increased its pace, things became more difficult. The next pitch arrived faster than expected.
Swing. Miss. His eyebrows furrowed.
The following pitch came almost immediately after.
Another miss.
A frustrated click escaped his tongue. He tightened his grip and tried to focus.
The next ball flew toward him.
Miss.
The one after that barely grazed the edge of his bat, his frustration grew with every failed attempt.
It wasn’t really about the baseballs. It was everything else.
The game. The expectations. The constant pressure he put on himself.
The missed pitches simply happened to be the final straw.
A heavy sigh escaped him as he lowered the bat.
Running a hand through his hair, he stepped away from the plate and stared at the ground for a moment.
Then, in a brief burst of irritation, he let the bat fall from his hands.
It hit the floor with a loud metallic clang that echoed throughout the cage.
The sound seemed unusually loud in the quiet facility.
“Try again. You weren’t doing that badly.”
The unfamiliar voice came from somewhere behind him.
Seungmin froze. He was certain he had been alone.
Slowly, he turned around, only to find someone standing just outside the cage.
Someone he had never seen before.
Seungmin remained frozen for a few seconds, staring at the stranger standing outside the cage.
Long enough to notice the dark hair falling slightly over his forehead. Long enough to feel a strange sensation settle somewhere in his chest. Then he blinked. Once. Twice. As if forcing himself back to reality. His throat tightened slightly, and he swallowed before quickly looking away. The last thing he needed was to stand there staring at a random stranger.
Lowering his gaze, he walked over to where the bat had fallen and picked it up from the floor. The metallic clang from earlier still seemed to echo faintly in his ears. He brushed some dust off the barrel before placing it back where it belonged, doing his best to ignore the presence lingering by the doorway.
Maybe if he acted like the boy wasn’t there, the conversation would end on its own.
“I’ll pay for another twenty pitches if—”
“No.”
The answer came out far more abrupt than Seungmin intended.
His shoulders immediately tensed. He wasn’t angry at the stranger. Not really. He was angry at himself. At the missed pitches. At the pressure sitting on his shoulders. At the fact that someone had witnessed a side of him he usually kept hidden.
Very few people had ever seen him react like that.
Aside from his closest friends, almost nobody knew what he looked like when frustration got the better of him.
“I don’t think it’s right staring at people you don’t know,” he added, keeping his eyes fixed on the equipment around him as he began absentmindedly straightening the cage. For a moment, the stranger remained silent.
Then a quiet laugh escaped him.
“Sorry. You just looked so focused that it made me want to play too.” Against his better judgment, Seungmin looked up.
The boy was leaning casually against the doorway with his arms crossed over his chest. He looked completely at ease.
As if striking up conversations with strangers in batting cages was something he did every day.
The fluorescent lights overhead illuminated his features just enough for Seungmin to make them out clearly.
And that was a mistake. A very big mistake.
Because now he couldn’t stop looking.
There was something undeniably attractive about him. Not in an obvious, attention-seeking way, but in the sort of way that made it difficult to look elsewhere once you’d noticed him.
The realization immediately made Seungmin look away again.
His heart was already beating too fast from the batting cage. He didn’t need this on top of everything else.
The lingering frustration from earlier mixed unpleasantly with the anxiety pooling in his stomach.
He hated situations like this. He hated not knowing what to say. Hated feeling awkward. Hated feeling observed.
“Then go ahead,” Seungmin replied. The stranger’s smile widened slightly.
“That’s not a very friendly invitation.”
Seungmin pretended not to hear him.
Without another word, he headed toward the exit, eager to escape before the conversation could continue any further.
His thoughts were moving too quickly.
So quickly, in fact, that he completely forgot about the jacket he’d tossed onto the chair when he’d arrived.
The stranger noticed immediately. Seungmin didn’t.
He walked straight past him, keeping his eyes firmly fixed ahead, close enough for him to catch a faint trace of cologne.
As he squeezed through the narrow space between the doorway and the other boy, a sudden wave of warmth spread through his body.
His shoulder brushed lightly against the stranger’s arm.
Barely a touch.
Yet somehow enough to make his pulse stumble.
Heat climbed up the back of his neck almost instantly.
Embarrassed, confused, and still riding the adrenaline from earlier, Seungmin didn’t even dare glance in the boy’s direction. The moment he stepped out of the building, Seungmin stopped for a second and took a deep breath.
The cool night air immediately hit his face, soothing the warmth that had settled beneath his skin throughout the evening.
He closed his eyes. Inhale. Exhale.
For a brief moment, he simply stood there, allowing himself to breathe.
The past few hours felt unusually exhausting.
Dinner with his friends, the noise of the crowded restaurant, the batting cage, his own frustration, and, most annoyingly, the stranger he’d met there.
The memory alone made him sigh.
Why was he even thinking about him?
It had been a random interaction that lasted only a few minutes. Someone he didn’t know and would most likely never see again.
Yet his mind stubbornly kept replaying it.
The unfamiliar voice. The teasing smile.
The way Seungmin had immediately become awkward the moment the conversation started.
Embarrassing. Very embarrassing.
Shaking his head, he shoved both hands into his pockets and started walking.
At that point, he only wanted to go home.
His apartment, his bed, and several hours away from other human beings sounded perfect.
The streets of Hongdae remained lively around him, illuminated by colorful neon signs and crowded with people enjoying their night. Music drifted from open doors while groups of friends laughed as they walked past.
Normally, Seungmin would have paid attention to his surroundings.
Tonight, however, his thoughts were elsewhere.
Completely elsewhere.
So much so that he forgot about the friends he had left behind at the restaurant.
Forgot about sending them a message. Forgot about saying goodbye.
⊹₊ ⋆ ⟡ ⋆ ₊⊹
Back inside the batting facility, Seungmin’s jacket remained forgotten on the chair beside the cage.
The stranger noticed it the moment he walked past it.
At first, he ignored it.
Surely the other boy would realize he had forgotten it and come back within a few minutes.
Except he never did.
With a quiet sigh, the stranger eventually walked over and picked it up.
The fabric was still warm from having been worn only moments earlier.
As he slung it over his arm, something slipped from one of the pockets. A student ID card attached to a blue lanyard.
He caught it before it could hit the floor. His eyes immediately dropped to the photograph.
Kim Seungmin.
Yonsei University.
2026.
For a moment, he simply stared at it. Then he laughed softly to himself.
“So that’s your name.”
The serious-looking student in the picture wasn’t much different from the one he’d met earlier.
Same expression. Same eyes. Maybe slightly less flustered.
Carefully, he slipped the card back into its plastic holder before looking between the badge and the abandoned jacket.
The logical thing would have been to leave both items at reception.
And he fully intended to. At least until his gaze landed on the name one last time.
Kim Seungmin.
Something about it made him hesitate. Only for a second.
Then, before he could change his mind, he detached the student badge from the jacket’s zipper.
The jacket could stay in the lost-and-found.
The badge, however, disappeared into the pocket of his hoodie.
A faint smile appeared on his lips.
After all, if Kim Seungmin wanted it back, he’d have no choice but to see him again…