Two weeks. That was all the school had given the class to go to a school trip, no working, no studying, Just 27 classmates tucked away in a secluded cabin deep in the mountains, far enough from the city that the only sounds were the trees swaying overhead and the crackling of the bonfire.

Earlier that day, Chan had dragged 5 friends on what he confidently called a "light hike." Three hours later, every friend was exhausted, Changbin had threatened to push him down the mountain, and Felix swore he'd never trust Chan's definition of "relaxing" again. On the drive back, they stopped for groceries—and, thanks to Changbin, since he was 18 years old, far more alcohol than any of you actually needed.

Chan wasn't much of a drinker. Usually, he was the one reminding everyone else to slow down. But tonight there was no one waiting for him tomorrow, no teachers near, no responsibilities. For once, he let himself relax.

"Come on, you're on a class trip." Changbin laughed, pressing another drink into his hand. One drink became two, then three. By the time everyone gathered around the bonfire, the conversation had grown louder, the teasing bolder, and eventually Hyunjin placed an empty bottle in the middle of the circle.

"Truth or dare?"

The game started harmlessly enough. Embarrassing trainee stories, ridiculous dares, questions that had everyone doubled over laughing. Eventually, the bottle landed on Chan.

"Truth." Bangchan smiled to himself.

"If you could relive one memory with someone sitting around this fire… what would it be?"

"What happened at the beach?" Hyunjin asked with a grin. Chan froze. You knew exactly which memory he'd meant.

It had been during fourth year of high school. you and Chan wandered down to the beach, talking for hours about everything except school.

As the evening grew colder, Chan draped his hoodie over your shoulders without a second thought. Later, the two of you sat side by side on the sand, watching the sunset in comfortable silence. At some point, your hands brushed. Neither of you moved away. Instead, your fingers slowly intertwined, Then you looked at him. He was already looking at you. His thumb absentmindedly traced over the back of your hand. For one suspended moment, neither of you spoke. You were close enough that either of you could've closed the distance. Neither of you did.

When the sun disappeared, you quietly untangled your fingers and walked back to the hotel. Neither of you mentioned it that night, the next morning, or ever again. It became the one memory you'd silently agreed to leave behind. Until now.

He rubbed the back of his neck, laughing awkwardly. Changbin let out a low whistle. "Didn't know it was that memorable."

He didn't look at you again for the rest of the night. And when the two of you walked back to the cabin together, the silence loud.