The glass-paneled room hums with quiet anticipation, the sunlight filtering through ivy-covered panes casting dappled shadows across the rows of desks.
Mr. Smith strides into the center of the room with the energy of someone who's had far too much caffeine and not enough patience.
"Today," he says, clapping his hands once, "we're going outside."
A few students groan immediately.
"Calm down," Mr. Smith says without looking. "I haven't decided your execution day yet."
Laughter ripples through the room.
Mr. Smith continues, unfazed. "We'll be collecting herbs for your midterm project. You'll need to find and collect at least five samples of the classified medicinal plants we discussed last week. If you bring back poison ivy and claim it's feverfew again, I swear I will let nature take its revenge."
A few students chuckle.
"Is this individual or what?" Charmaine asks.
"In teams. You haven't forgotten who your groupmates are, have you?"
"Seriously?" she says, flicking her manicured fingers toward Charmaine, who stiffens like she's been personally insulted. "If I get stung by a bee when I forage with her, I will sue."
"Believe me, the feeling's mutual," Charmaine snaps, already crossing her arms.
Wonwoo just sinks into his seat, clearly wondering which herb would be best to fake his own disappearance.
Groans grow louder. More students raise their protests.
Mr. Smith doesn't even look up from his clipboard. "If you don't like your group, complain to the trees. They're more forgiving than I am."
You suppress a sigh, focusing on the worksheet Mr. Smith is now handing out. At least the herbs wouldn't talk back.
Or flirt. Or argue in passive-aggressive undertones.
You really should have stayed sick.
Rose Quartz and Serenity Nature Reserve
The forest is quiet, like it's listening.
Sunlight pours through the canopy in golden shards, dappling the moss-covered ground.
The scent of damp earth and crushed herbs hangs heavy in the air as you and Joshua pick your way through a narrow trail, slightly overgrown but still navigable.
Joshua walks beside you with his usual grace, one hand resting casually on the leather strap of the herb satchel, the other brushing aside ferns as he surveys the undergrowth.
"That's yarrow," he says, crouching low and brushing his fingers over a cluster of delicate white flowers. "It grows in disturbed soil, perfect for inflammation."
You nod, noting it down on the parchment clipboard Mr. Smith handed out. "And the one beside it?"
He gives you a half-smile. "You're learning fast."
"You're not a bad teacher," you murmur, leaning closer.
And then you trip. Not dramatically. Just enough to throw you slightly off-balance.
Joshua catches your wrist smoothly, like he's done it a hundred times before. "Careful," he says, and this close, his voice is soft, almost teasing. "I need you in one piece, Rory."
You smirk, brushing a stray leaf from your hair. "How tragic. I was hoping to add some danger to our peaceful little herb hunt."
He chuckles under his breath and straightens, eyes lingering on you just a second too long. "If you want danger, you're hanging out with the wrong heir."
Before you can answer, a sharp crack slices through the stillness.
You both turn.
Mingyu is there, standing several feet away, framed by tree trunks like some dark monolith carved out of shadow and flame. His arms are crossed over his chest, and his gaze is locked on the space between you and Joshua.
On your proximity.
On the way, Joshua's hand is still resting lightly against your back.
"If I remember correctly," Mingyu says, voice like flint striking steel, "this is a group activity. Not a romantic retreat."
The words slice through the quiet like a blade.
You straighten instinctively, taking a step back, but Joshua doesn't move. His calm is unshaken, though his eyes narrow just slightly.
"We were collecting samples," Joshua says, voice measured, but there's an edge beneath it now. "You were the one who wandered off."
Mingyu doesn't even blink. "Yeah, and I came back to find you playing knight in shining blazer."
"I wasn't aware chivalry was a crime," Joshua says coolly.
You glance between them, tension coiling around your ribcage. "Guys—"
Mingyu doesn't take his eyes off Joshua. "I'm sure you're used to being the favorite. But this isn't about impressing anyone. It's about getting the job done."
Joshua lifts a brow. "Funny. I don't recall you showing this much initiative before."
Mingyu steps forward, his expression sharp, unreadable. "Watch your tone."
Before Joshua can respond, a deep groan echoes from above. You all look up.
A large, rotted branch, twisting with creeping moss and splinters, detaches and falls.
You freeze.
And then you're yanked backwards.
Mingyu's arms wrap around you like a vice, pulling you hard into his chest as the branch crashes down exactly where you were standing. The thud rattles the forest floor. Leaves scatter. The air smells like fresh bark and adrenaline.
Your heart thunders as you realize how close it was. Your head is tucked under Mingyu's chin, one of his arms still tight around your waist, the other braced protectively across your shoulders.
"You okay?" he asks, voice lower now, rougher. Almost…worried.
You nod slowly. "Yeah."
But he doesn't move. Not yet. Not until Joshua approaches the branch and inspects it. Brows knit.
"You alright?" Joshua asks, gaze darting between you and Mingyu.
Only then does Mingyu let go, but not gently. Almost a push as if electrified. He steps back.
For a moment, neither moves.
And then, Mingyu turns. "I'll go find the last herb. Maybe the two of you can keep each other entertained while I do the actual work."
He disappears into the trees, shadows swallowing him like they know him well.
You release a breath you hadn't realized you were holding.
Joshua turns back to you, his hands gentle as they reach for yours. "You're shaking."
"I said I'm fine," you whisper, but your voice is strained.
Then, you hear faint voices through the trees, raised and unmistakably heated. You and Joshua exchange a look.
"That doesn't sound like a bird call," he says dryly.
You nod, already moving toward the noise, carefully pushing past ferns and low-hanging branches until the voices become clearer.
"I said it's not yarrow, Wonwoo!" Camille's voice rings out in frustration.
"It looks like yarrow," Wonwoo replies, holding a delicate sprig like it personally offended him. "Small, white flowers, feathered leaves. Textbook."
Camille folds her arms. "You thought poison ivy was mint last semester, so forgive me if I don't trust your textbook."
"I apologized for that," Wonwoo mutters. "For three weeks. And I bought you ointment."
"You bought me scented ointment, genius. I had a rash and smelled like lavender funeral soap."
You try to smother a laugh but fail. Joshua grins beside you.
A short distance away, Charmaine leans lazily against a tree, arms folded, staring off into the woods as if waiting for an Uber that will never arrive.
Her sunglasses are still perched atop her head, though they're completely unnecessary in the shade. She idly picks at the bark with one polished fingernail, entirely uninterested in the unfolding scene.
Camille throws her arms up. "And she's doing absolutely nothing."
Charmaine doesn't even turn. "I'm reflecting. In nature."
"Reflecting?" Camille snaps. "You're loitering like a very expensive garden gnome."
"I'm centering my energy," Charmaine says in a soft, detached tone, as if she's in a spa commercial. "Some of us don't need to wrestle weeds to feel connected."
Camille glares at her. "You screamed at a mosquito five minutes ago."
"It touched my neck," Charmaine replies without emotion. "I don't permit surprises."
Joshua stifles a laugh beside you.
"Why did she even come?" Camille huffs. "She hasn't identified a single plant."
"I identified the vibe," Charmaine says serenely. "And it's toxic."
Camille glares at her as if she's about to commit something terrible. "Open your mouth once more. I'll turn you into compost." Then, she stomps into the underbrush. Wonwoo casually follows.
Charmaine shrugs, unbothered. "Careful with the bugs."
Joshua looks over at you, amusement sparkling in his eyes. "Maybe we should save her from the poison ivy," points Charmaine, busily taking selfies.
"But selfishly, I kinda like watching their drama."
You glance up at him. "Because you enjoy watching your friend fold in front of his girlfriend? He looks soft, devoid of the usual I-don't-give-a-fuck look, which is rather cute."
Somewhere behind the trees, Camille screams again. "WONWOO, THAT'S A NETTLE. STOP TOUCHING THINGS."
Both of you burst out laughing, the sound echoing through the trees, momentarily drowning out Camille's distant plant-based meltdown and Charmaine's spiritual detachment.
Joshua leans in, breathless. "This is fun!"
You're just about to tease him when a sharp crunch of leaves snaps through the clearing like a warning shot.
"It seems so," comes a voice.
You both freeze, heads turning.
Mingyu stands at the edge of the clearing, his tall frame framed by shafts of dappled light. Calm, but unmistakably cold. In his hand is an herb. Crushed, wilted, and already too mangled to identify.
"Too bad," he says, not lifting his eyes from the leaves. "This was the last of them. The rest are near the waterfalls."
Joshua shrugs, grinning. "Well, I don't mind a thirty-minute hike. What about you?" He turns to you.
"I—I guess I'm okay with it," you say, caught off guard by the sharpness in Mingyu's gaze as it finally lands on you. It's too intense for something so casual.
"No need," Mingyu cuts in, still looking at Joshua. "You and I will go."
"Wh—?"
"She's still sick, asshole," Mingyu snaps, already turning toward the trees.
Joshua winces, then glances at you, sheepish. "Guess I was having too much fun with you... kinda forgot."
"It's ok—"
"JOSHUA!" Mingyu's voice roars through the woods.
You can't help but chuckle as Joshua groans dramatically and jogs after him. "Coming, Commander Cranky!"
You watch them disappear into the trees, the sound of rustling leaves chasing after them.
And still, you feel the weight of Mingyu's stare.