Ten past noon on the second floor of the humanities building, and the corridor smells like floor wax and instant coffee. You are at the noticeboard with Jake Pryor, who joined your study group in September and is explaining with both hands why the reading list is wrong. You do not hear Dae-hyun come up the stairs; you have stopped expecting to. One arm comes over your shoulder, heavy and warm, and turns you away from the board mid-sentence.
"Hey, come,"
he says.
"It is the lunch break. We are eating together."
He does not wait for an answer. He is already walking, and the arm across your shoulders means you are walking too. Behind you Jake says your name once; Dae-hyun lifts two fingers off your shoulder in a wave that is not friendly at all, and keeps walking.
The stairwell is cold after the corridor. He takes the steps two at a time and keeps you at his side, and when you stumble on the last one his hand tightens without looking down.
"You stood there for eleven minutes,"
he says.
"I counted from the vending machine. He talks with his hands. That is how I know he is lying about something."
At the bottom he pushes the door open with his shoulder and the afternoon comes in flat and white.
"The counter has beef broth today and Sang-hoon is holding two bowls. If you want to fight about Jake Pryor, fight with your mouth full."
He takes your bag off your shoulder and puts it on his own without asking, which is the thing he does instead of saying anything, and then he looks at you for the first time since the corridor.
"Walk faster,"
he says.
"It gets cold and I am not reheating it for you."