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Park Gunwook never thought much of the boy who always ate alone and left quickly. He’d seen Seok Matthew at the cafeteria every day, always first in line and always gone before anyone else could ask a question. But when the boy doesn’t show up one day, his curiosity gets the better of him. What starts as a simple question turns into a search that leads him to a hospital, and with it, a truth that changes everything.
“By the way, I’m Gunwook. And you are…?”
“Matthew. Seok Matthew.”
Park Gunwook slouched against the cafeteria counter, his eyes drifting over the sea of students who filtered in and out. It was a familiar scene: the clatter of trays, the hum of chatter, and the occasional burst of laughter. For most, it was just another lunch period. For him, it was another day of detention, another day spent in the dull, monotonous routine of serving food.
He wasn’t a bad student, though you might have thought otherwise from his record. It seemed that trouble followed him wherever he went, whether it was the occasional forgotten homework assignment or a misunderstanding that escalated into a full-blown argument. No thanks to his large build and intimidating face, to be honest. His teachers saw him as a troublemaker, his classmates as a guy who couldn’t stay out of trouble. Detention had become his second home, a place where he spent more time than in any classroom or dorm.
The cafeteria, with its stainless steel countertops and fluorescent lights, was where he was sentenced to spend his detention hours. It wasn’t so much the work that bothered him; it was the endless waiting. Waiting for the lunch rush to die down, waiting for the clock to tick closer to freedom. And every day, as he stood there wiping down tables and refilling milk cartons, there was one student he couldn’t help but notice.
A boy named Seok Matthew.
Matthew was always the first to arrive, slipping into the cafeteria before anyone else. His routine was almost robotic: he’d grab a tray, quickly pick his food, and settle at a corner table. He ate with a speed that seemed practiced, as though he was in a hurry to be somewhere else. And then, just as quickly as he arrived, he was gone—before the cafeteria filled up before most students had even made it through the line.
Gunwook had watched him from his post behind the counter, noting how the other student’s behavior seemed almost ritualistic. It was as though he was on a schedule, one that required him to be in and out before anyone could take notice. He often wondered about the boy who had made this strange routine his own. What drove him to be so punctual, so urgent?
Even knowing his name was such a task for Gunwook. He remembered the lengths he had gone to just to get that small piece of information.
It was a few days ago, and the cafeteria was relatively quiet as Gunwook wiped down the tables. The aunties who worked in the canteen were bustling around, chatting amongst themselves. He seized the opportunity, approaching them with a mix of curiosity and playfulness.
“Come on, Auntie,” he said, flashing his most charming smile. He was known for that after all. “You know, I’ve been curious about that student who always comes in first. The one who eats and leaves before anyone else. What’s his name?”
The cafeteria staff paused in their chatter, their faces lighting up with knowing smiles. One of the aunties, a plump woman with kind eyes and a gentle demeanor, looked at him with amusement.
“Oh, you’re talking about Seok Matthew,” Auntie Jo said, her voice tinged with warmth. “He is a quiet one, that’s for sure. Always in and out before we get a chance to have a real chat with him, but he is very respectful.”
Gunwook nodded, intrigued. “Seok Matthew, huh? I’ve noticed he’s always so quick. Is he always like that?”
The auntie chuckled softly, shaking her head. “Oh, he’s a good kid. Just likes to keep to himself. I think he has a lot on his plate, so to speak. It’s a shame, really. He’s a sweet boy, but he never lingers long enough to chat.”
“A lot on his plate? What do you mean?”
Auntie Jo shrugged, her expression becoming slightly more reserved. “Just a feeling I get. He’s always in and out, like he’s got someplace else to be. But who am I to say? We all have our own things to deal with.”
Another auntie, who was busy stacking plates, chimed in. “He’s been like that for a while now, always following the same routine. Maybe he just likes it that way. Keeps things simple. Don’t you worry about him, son. What you should worry about is how to stop getting detention.”
As he went back to his tasks, his thoughts remained with Matthew. The boy’s mysterious behavior was starting to intrigue him more and more. Gunwook’s curiosity wasn’t just a passing whim; it had become a genuine quest to understand the enigma that was Seok Matthew.
He could count on his fingers the number of times he had interacted with Seok Matthew. Like, really interacted with him. Each instance was brief but left a mark to him, revealing snippets of the boy’s elusive personality.
The very first time was the beginning of Gunwook’s realization that there was something more to Seok Matthew than met the eye. It was also the first time he came face-to-face with Matthew and couldn’t help but notice just how cute he was—utterly and surprisingly adorable.
A few weeks ago, the cafeteria was unusually crowded. Gunwook was busy refilling trays when he heard a commotion near the drink station. He looked up to see Matthew standing with a red stain spreading across his shirt from a spilled drink.
Gunwook rushed over, his heart racing as he grabbed some paper towels. “Hey, are you okay?”
Matthew looked up, his face flushed with embarrassment. “Yeah, it’s fine. Just... spilled it by accident.”
He noticed the other student’s discomfort and tried to ease the situation. “Don’t worry about it. Happens to everyone.”
“Thanks.”
As Gunwook helped clean up, he noticed Matthew’s eyes darting around, clearly anxious about the attention. It was the first time he saw a glimpse of Matthew’s unease in public, a sign that there was more beneath the surface.
The second time Matthew’s struggle became evident was when he appeared at the counter, his face clouded with anxiety over a forgotten lunch card.
Another day, Matthew arrived at the counter without his lunch card. Gunwook could see the panic in his eyes as he fumbled through his pockets, searching desperately.
“I’m sorry,” the boy said, his voice tinged with frustration. “I must have left it in my dorm.”
He subtly frowned. “It’s okay. I will swipe mine. It’s fine. Just let me know if you need anything.” The shorter boy hesitated, then took a tray with a half-hearted smile. “Really? Thanks. I will bring mine tomorrow.”
As the other student walked away, he noticed the stress in his posture. It was a small thing, but it revealed Matthew’s tendency to be disorganized, a hint that he might be juggling more than just schoolwork.
The third time, Gunwook decided to make it a point to introduce himself properly. He had already learned the boy’s name from the cafeteria aunties (obviously!), but something in him wanted to hear it directly from the other student. There was something about Seok Matthew that intrigued him beyond the usual curiosity—something that made him want to get a little closer.
It was the usual lunch period, and Gunwook found himself serving food behind the counter as the lone student approached. He noticed how the shorter boy always seemed to avoid eye contact, just focused on grabbing his food and leaving. Today, he wasn’t going to let that happen so easily.
As Matthew came up, Gunwook slid a generous serving of shrimp pasta onto his tray with a casual grin. “Shrimp pasta’s the special today—highly recommended by yours truly,” he said with a playful lilt in his voice.
But Seok Matthew’s reaction wasn’t what he expected. His expression tightened as he gently pushed the tray back. “I’m sorry. I can’t eat shrimp,” he said quietly, avoiding Gunwook’s eyes. “It’s bad for me.”
“Oh,” Gunwook blinked, surprised, but quickly recovered with a light chuckle. “Well, can't have that then. Don’t want to be the guy responsible for messing up your day.”
Matthew gave a small, polite smile, clearly not catching the slight flirtatious tone in Gunwook’s voice. He was not flirting alright? He was just being his usual self. “Thank you. I’ll just take the chicken.” He handed him the alternate meal, feeling a bit deflated but still determined. He leaned over the counter, adding with a wink, “By the way, I’m Gunwook. And you are…?”
“Matthew. Seok Matthew.”
“Nice to meet you, Matthew. If you ever change your mind about the shrimp, you know where to find me.”
Matthew offered a small nod before turning away, completely unaware of the teasing intent behind Gunwook’s words. As the other student walked off, he watched him go, feeling a mix of amusement and curiosity. The boy didn’t seem to notice his attempts to be friendly—maybe even a little flirty—but that only made Gunwook more intrigued.
For now, though, it was enough that he’d finally heard Matthew say his own name.
And the last time they had interacted, it was three days ago. It was also the very last time he had seen the boy who was always first—first to grab his meal, first to leave before anyone else had even settled down.
It was a cold, rainy afternoon. The cafeteria wasn’t as crowded as usual, and the air was thick with the scent of warm food. Gunwook was at his usual station, distractedly handing out trays when he saw Matthew in line. There was something different about him that day—something off. He looked even more tired than usual, his face pale, his movements slower.
He noticed the other student glancing at the long menu board, then quietly choosing the lightest option. The other students didn’t seem to notice anything unusual, but to Gunwook, it was clear—Seok Matthew wasn’t just in a hurry today. He was struggling. Maybe more than he wanted to let on.
As Matthew made his way to the counter, Gunwook caught his eye and gave him a smile, trying to keep things light. “Chicken salad today? That’s not enough to keep you going.”
Matthew barely managed a small smile in return, shaking his head slightly. “I’m not that hungry.”
“You sure? I could sneak you something extra,” he offered, half-joking but hoping to get a real reaction out of him.
But Matthew just nodded, keeping his tone polite. “Thanks, but I’ll be fine.”
There was something final in the way Matthew said it, something that made Gunwook’s chest tighten with an unease he couldn’t quite explain. Before he could say anything more, Matthew had taken his tray and quietly walked away, disappearing to his usual corner of the cafeteria. And just like that, the boy who was always first had slipped away again, leaving behind a strange, lingering silence.
It wasn’t until later that day that Park Gunwook realized how significant that moment had been. Because three days had passed since then, and Seok Matthew had not shown up in the cafeteria once.
It shouldn’t be a big deal. Seriously. Who was Seok Matthew anyway? He was just a random student that happened to always show up first in the cafeteria. A quiet guy who kept to himself, ate his meals quickly, and slipped away unnoticed. People like that came and went all the time. There was no reason for Gunwook to care so much. And yet, the more he tried to convince himself of that, the more unsettled he felt.
Maybe it was because Seok Matthew wasn’t like everyone else. There was something different about him, something that set him apart from the usual faces he saw every day. Most students had their friends, their groups, their routines. Matthew seemed to exist outside of all that, always on his own, moving through the school like a ghost. It was like he was there, but not really there. And for reasons Gunwook couldn’t quite put into words, that bothered him. It was like watching someone fade before your eyes and not knowing why.
But that wasn’t his problem, right? Matthew wasn’t his responsibility. So why couldn’t he shake this feeling? The more he thought about it, the more the memory of their last interaction nagged at him—the way Matthew had looked that day, pale and distant, like he was carrying something too heavy to bear. And now, he was just… gone. No explanation, no sign of where he’d disappeared to. It shouldn't matter, but somehow, it did. And that was the part Gunwook couldn’t ignore.
“If you’re not eating your dim sum, might as well just give it to me,” Gyuvin said, already reaching over to snag a piece from Gunwook’s tray without waiting for a response.
He barely reacted, absently pushing the plate toward his friend while his eyes scanned the cafeteria. He was sitting with Gyuvin and Ricky, his usual lunchtime companions, who were in the middle of a heated debate about the best gaming strategies. Their conversation flowed easily between them, punctuated by bursts of laughter and exaggerated gestures, but Gunwook was only half-listening. His focus was elsewhere, darting from table to table, searching for a familiar figure that was nowhere to be found.
Seok Matthew.
It was as though his absence had left a hole in the room, one that he couldn’t ignore no matter how much he tried. He wasn’t even sure what he was looking for—a glimpse of Matthew slipping in quietly, maybe, or just some sign that he was okay. But nothing. Just the usual crowd, the usual noise, and the empty space where Seok Matthew should have been.
“Do you guys know any Seok Matthew in the school?”
Gyuvin paused, dim sum halfway to his mouth, raising an eyebrow. “Seok Matthew? That name sounds kinda familiar. Why?”
“I don’t think I’ve heard of him,” Ricky added, looking thoughtful. “What year do you think he is?”
He hesitated for a moment. “Not sure. Probably the same year as us? Or maybe a year older? I mean, he’s around the cafeteria at the same time every day. I just figured he’s either a sophomore or junior, like us.”
“I don’t know, man,” Gyuvin shrugged, finally popping the dim sum into his mouth.
“I just noticed he’s been gone a few days,” he said, trying to sound nonchalant. “Figured I’d ask.”
Ricky glanced at him, curious but not pressing. “Maybe he’s just sick or something. Happens. Probably nothing to worry about. If you’re really curious, why not ask Taerae hyung? He literally knows everyone in the school.”
Gunwook’s mind churned at Ricky’s suggestion. Taerae hyung... right, he does know everyone, doesn’t he? He couldn’t deny that Taerae seemed to have a network of connections no one else could rival. If there was anyone who could give him answers about Seok Matthew, it’d be him. But then again, why was he even this invested? It wasn’t like they were friends. Just cafeteria acquaintances, really.
Why do I care so much? He asked himself, feeling a twinge of frustration. He’d noticed plenty of students in passing, but Seok Matthew... Seok Matthew stuck with him. Maybe it was the boy’s quiet presence, the way he always seemed so far away despite being right there. Or maybe it was the gnawing sense of guilt for not realizing sooner that something was wrong. But it’s not your problem, he reminded himself, though the words felt hollow.
Still, the urge to know more gnawed at him, louder than the rational voice in his head telling him to let it go. Ask Taerae, his mind whispered. Just ask.
“Seok Matthew? Yeah, I know him. We share a few classes together,” Taerae replied casually, not even looking up from the textbook he was thumbing through. He was seated at his desk, surrounded by a few scattered papers and notes. Gunwook stood awkwardly in the doorway of their shared dorm, watching Taerae with a strange mix of anticipation and curiosity.
“Do you know where he’s been?” He asked, leaning against the doorframe, trying to keep his tone casual but feeling the tension build inside him. “He’s been missing from the cafeteria for a few days now. Haven’t seen him around at all.”
Taerae paused, his fingers still resting on the pages, but his eyes stayed down. “Oh, that,” he said slowly, as if choosing his words carefully. “Yeah, I’ve noticed. He’s been... dealing with some stuff, I guess.”
“Stuff? Like what?”
“Just, you know, personal things. Nothing major.”
That answer only made him more suspicious. He knew Taerae well enough to recognize when he was dodging a question. Normally, Kim Taerae was the type to spill all the gossip without hesitation. But now? He was being weirdly vague, almost evasive.
“Why do you even care, Gunwook-ah? Are you friends with Matthew?” Taerae’s question came out of nowhere, catching him off guard. He asked it casually, but there was a sharpness in his tone that made him pause.
Friends? No, not exactly. He opened his mouth to respond, but nothing came out. Was he friends with Seok Matthew? They’d barely exchanged more than a few words here and there, and yet, here he was, asking questions, feeling this nagging sense of worry over someone who was practically a stranger.
“I wouldn’t say friends,” he finally muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. “I just… noticed he’s been missing. Thought maybe something happened.”
Taerae raised an eyebrow, leaning back against his desk. “You are asking a lot of questions for someone who barely knows him.” There was an edge to his voice now, something challenging, like he was daring Gunwook to admit something deeper. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you’re a little too interested in Matthew.”
“It’s not like that,” he said quickly. “I just… I feel like something’s off, okay?”
It was fruitless. Talking to Taerae hyung didn’t seem to be getting him any closer to the answers he needed. The older guy was clearly holding back, and no matter how many times he asked, he wouldn’t get any more information. It was as if a wall had been put up, and no matter how hard he pressed, he couldn’t breach it.
“You know… I kinda promised Matthew that I won’t let my big mouth spill everything,” Taerae said, his voice lowering as if weighing his next words carefully. “But if you’re really curious, and I know you mean well, just go to the hospital in the city outskirts. That’s all I can say.”
Gunwook’s heart skipped a beat.
“What’s the name of the hospital?”
“Hope Springs Health Facility. It’s not too far from here, but it’s not close either. You might need to catch a bus or something,” Taerae said, his gaze avoiding Gunwook’s. “Just… just don’t ask me why he’s there. Just tell him that I’m waiting for him to come back.”
“Park Gunwook?”
The nurse’s voice broke through the quiet hum of the hospital’s lobby. Gunwook looked up from where he was sitting, his nerves a tangled mess of anticipation and anxiety. He had spent what felt like hours in the waiting area, his eyes flitting from the clock to the door, dreading and hoping for this moment.
“Yes, that’s me,” he said, rising from his seat.
The nurse gave him a warm, though somewhat tired, smile. “Matthew is ready for a visit. Follow me, please.”
He nodded and followed the nurse down a sterile hallway lined with muted pastel paintings and the faint smell of antiseptic. His heart pounded in his chest, each step echoing his growing unease. They stopped in front of a door marked with a simple nameplate: “Seok Matthew.”
The nurse opened the door and gestured for Gunwook to enter. As he stepped inside, he was met with the sight of him.
Seok Matthew.
He was lying in bed, propped up slightly with pillows. The room was modest, with soft lighting and a window that let in the afternoon sun. Matthew looked up from a book he was reading, his eyes widening in surprise as they landed on Gunwook.
His heart sank at the sight. Seok Matthew looked thinner than the last time he had seen him, which had been less than a week ago. His face, once full of youthful vitality, now seemed drawn and pale, with pronounced cheekbones and a tired, almost fragile expression. The color had drained from his complexion, making his eyes look even more strikingly bright in contrast.
“Gunwook, right? The cafeteria guy?”
“And you’re Seok Matthew. You are always the first to get your food and the first to leave,” he said, his voice gently teasing but filled with concern. “You also can’t eat shrimp and would rather have a bowl of chicken salad.”
“I didn’t expect anyone from school to come by. But… It's nice to see a familiar face. Sit down, please. I’m sorry I don’t look exactly presentable right now.”
He offered a reassuring smile as he took the seat beside Matthew’s bed. “Don’t worry about it. You look just fine. I’m glad I could come by.”
Matthew chuckled softly, though it was clear it took some effort. “Well, I appreciate that. It’s been a bit of a rough patch, but it helps to have someone to talk to that is not my nurse or the doctor. Who told you I was here anyway?”
“I asked around a bit. Taerae hyung mentioned you were here at Hope Springs Health Facility. He didn’t go into details, but he did say it was important to come visit.”
“Taerae… I didn’t think he’d tell anyone.”
“He was pretty vague, but he gave me the name of the hospital. I just wanted to make sure you were alright. It seemed like something serious.”
Matthew hesitated for a moment before smiling at him. "I have been dealing with a rare heart condition called restrictive cardiomyopathy for about three years now. I don’t really want to bore you with the details, but it affects my heart’s ability to fill with blood properly because the walls become stiff and less flexible. It’s been making it harder for me to keep up with daily activities. The school gave me permission to be dismissed earlier than the rest so I could eat without too many people around me and manage my energy levels better. I couldn’t really make too many friends and only Taerae was kind enough to talk to me in my classes.”
Gunwook didn’t know what to say. Was it time to tell him that ever since he first saw him inside the cafeteria, he’d been intrigued by Matthew? That his curiosity had grown into a genuine concern for the other student? The words felt heavy in his mouth, but he knew they needed to be said.
He took a deep breath and looked at Matthew, trying to find the right way to express his feelings. “You know, from the first time I saw you in the cafeteria, I was curious about you. You always seemed to be in such a rush, and I wondered why. I didn’t realize it was because of something so serious.”
The other boy’s eyes widened slightly, a hint of surprise in his expression. “Really? I didn’t think I made that much of an impression.”
“You did. And as time went on, I started to notice more and more how you were always the first to get your food and leave. It made me realize that something might be going on, but I never imagined it was because of a condition like yours.”
Matthew’s face softened, a mix of relief and gratitude evident in his eyes. “You know, it’s also not difficult to remember you. The cafeteria aunties were always chasing you with spatulas in their hands. They were calling you ‘detention son,’ and it was honestly really funny.”
“Yeah, they definitely have a way of keeping me on my toes. I’ve had my share of close calls with those spatulas.”
“I always admired how you handled it, though. Even when you were in trouble, you managed to stay upbeat. It’s one of the reasons I think it’s so great that you’re here. As you have noticed, the atmosphere here isn’t exactly welcoming. It’s not the most comforting place. It’s easy to feel like you’re just another patient here, surrounded by a lot of medical equipment and the constant hum of machines…”
“…But my doctors are optimistic. They don’t want me to lose hope.”
“I don’t want you to lose hope either,” Gunwook smiled.
“Actually, tomorrow I’m scheduled for a procedure that should help with managing my condition. It’s not a major surgery or anything, but it’s a step in the right direction. They’ll be adjusting my treatment plan based on the results. Well, it wouldn’t hurt to have a friend here. It’s not a big deal, but having someone to talk to before and after the procedure would be really comforting. If you’re free, I’d appreciate the company.”
“You don’t have to tell me twice.”
“Oh, wait! You have classes tomorrow.”
Gunwook chuckled. “Looks like I’ll be adding one more ‘detention’ to my schedule then.”