"Ji-Ho! Did you pack your toothbrush?"
His mother's voice echoed from the kitchen like a warning siren.
"Mom, it's six a.m.!" Ji-Ho groaned, still half-asleep under his blanket.
"That's exactly when toothbrushes disappear. Get up!"
He dragged himself out of bed, hair sticking up like an anime hero after a fight, and stumbled toward his half-open suitcase. Inside lay absolute chaos—socks tangled with pens, a phone charger wrapped around a ramen packet, and a single hiking shoe looking existentially confused.
His mom appeared in the doorway, armed with a checklist and the authority of ten generations.
"Underwear?"
"Packed."
"Soap?"
"Somewhere."
"'Somewhere' is not a place, Ji-Ho."
She began reorganizing everything at lightning speed. "How many shirts did you bring?"
He counted silently. "Three."
"For three days? You sweat like a sprinkler."
"Then I'll be a natural waterfall."
She glared. "You'll be a smelly waterfall."
From the living room, his dad called, "Don't forget to bring snacks for your friends. Real men share chips!"
Ji-Ho muttered, "Real men don't lose their snacks."
"WHAT?"
"Nothing, Dad!"
His mom zipped the suitcase with a sigh. "Honestly, how do you survive school?"
"Teamwork," he said proudly.
"Whose teamwork?"
"…Thanu's."
Her eyes sharpened. "Oh? Thanu. The girl you keep mentioning?"
Ji-Ho froze. "I don't keep—uh—mentioning—"
"Tell her I said hi," she said sweetly, already smirking.
He grabbed his backpack. "I'll be late BYE!"
Snack Raid at the Mart
At nine a.m., Ji-Ho met Tae-Sik and Min-Ji at the corner convenience store. Both had baskets that looked like they were preparing for a zombie apocalypse.
"Bro!" Tae-Sik announced. "Operation Snack-Storm begins!"
Ji-Ho blinked at the pile of chips. "You bought six bags of the same flavor."
"Consistency is art."
Min-Ji rolled her eyes. "Consistency is boring. Get something spicy or sweet."
She tossed a pack of honey-butter chips into Ji-Ho's basket.
He frowned. "That's too romantic a flavor."
"Romantic?" Tae-Sik smirked. "Ohhh, buying snacks for Thanu?"
Ji-Ho hit him lightly with a ramen packet. "Shut up."
Just then, Thanu entered the store—hair in a ponytail, white hoodie, backpack slung casually.
"Morning," she said with that calm smile. "Snack strategy meeting?"
Tae-Sik saluted. "Snack-Storm Phase Two!"
Thanu laughed. "Sounds dangerous."
"It is," Min-Ji said. "If we don't buy enough, Ji-Ho starts rationing like a dictator."
"Lies," Ji-Ho protested. "I'm generous—"
"Generous at taking snacks," Tae-Sik said.
They all burst out laughing.
The Snack Debate
By the third aisle, things had devolved into chaos.
"Instant ramen?"
"Mr. Park will confiscate it."
"Hide it in your socks."
"Choco pies?"
"Mandatory."
"Ten boxes mandatory?"
Tae-Sik was now testing which soda made the loudest fizz.
Min-Ji chased him with a rolled-up newspaper.
Meanwhile, Thanu was comparing two chip bags thoughtfully.
"Sweet corn or spicy shrimp?"
"Spicy shrimp," Ji-Ho said automatically. "You liked that one at the festival."
She blinked. "You remember that?"
He realized what he'd said, panicked, and tried to act casual. "It's… a memorable flavor."
Her smile deepened. "Sure."
Min-Ji whispered to Tae-Sik, "He's doomed."
"Beautifully doomed," Tae-Sik whispered back.
Parents vs. Packing
Back home, Ji-Ho's living room looked like a travel commercial gone wrong. His mom was forcing zip-lock bags on him.
"You cannot travel without wet wipes!"
"Mom, we're not invading another country!"
"Same principle," she said firmly.
His dad appeared holding a camera. "Smile! First school trip of the year!"
"Dad, no photos—"
Click!
"Perfect!"
The phone buzzed—group chat lighting up again.
Tae-Sik: Bro, I bought 12 energy drinks. Don't tell Mr. Park.
Min-Ji: You'll explode before the bus starts.
Thanu: Did you pack extra socks?
Ji-Ho: Yes, ma'am.
Thanu: Good. You'll thank me later.
Tae-Sik: Flirting with sock management now, huh?
Ji-Ho buried his face in a pillow. "Why are my friends like this?"
Evening Call
After dinner, he sat on the balcony scrolling through memes when his phone buzzed.
Thanu 📞 Calling…
He answered quickly, trying to sound casual. "Yo."
"Did you finish packing?"
"Define 'finish.'"
She laughed. "That bad?"
"Let's just say my mom labeled my underwear with day numbers."
"Smart woman."
He groaned. "Don't agree with her!"
"Too late."
They both laughed. Silence lingered for a second—comfortable, not awkward.
"So," Thanu said softly, "you excited for tomorrow?"
"Yeah. I mean, mostly."
"Mostly?"
"I'm just hoping Tae-Sik doesn't fall off the mountain."
She snorted. "You'll be too busy saving him."
"Exactly why I'm packing extra rope."
She smiled on the other end. "You're weird."
"You say that like it's news."
Another pause, quieter this time.
"Still," she said, "thanks for being my partner for supplies and stuff. It's… nice."
"Anytime," he said softly. "Just don't make me carry the heavy stuff."
"No promises."
She laughed again, that short, musical sound he'd started to look forward to.
"See you tomorrow, Ji-Ho."
"Yeah. See you, Thanu."
When the call ended, he sat there smiling at the dark sky, the city lights flickering below.
Meanwhile – Tae-Sik's House
"Mom! Where's my tent?"
"In the garage!"
"Where's the garage?"
She glared. "You've lived here sixteen years!"
"Still learning!"
Tae-Sik's suitcase was pure chaos—half snacks, half video games. His mom confiscated the console mid-packing.
"No electronics!"
"Mom, that's emotional support technology!"
Meanwhile – Thanu's Room
Thanu folded her clothes neatly, humming softly. On her desk sat a small snow-globe from the spring festival years ago. She shook it once, watching the glitter swirl.
Her mother peeked in. "All packed?"
"Yes."
"Snacks?"
"Half for friends."
"Half for Ji-Ho?"
Thanu blushed. "Mom!"
Her mother chuckled. "Just checking."
Night Before Departure
The group chat exploded again.
Min-Ji: Everyone wake up by 6! No excuses!
Tae-Sik: Define 'wake up'.
Ji-Ho: He's doomed.
Thanu: Goodnight, everyone. See you at the bus stop.
Ji-Ho typed before he could stop himself:
Ji-Ho: Goodnight, Thanu.
She replied with a single emoji—🌸.
He stared at it for a moment, then grinned like an idiot.
From the other room, his mom called, "Turn off the light! You need sleep!"
"Five minutes!"
"You said that fifteen minutes ago!"
"Time is an illusion!"
She opened the door. "Then your phone's an illusion too!"
He surrendered immediately.
Midnight Thoughts
Lying in bed, Ji-Ho listened to the faint hum of the fan. His room smelled faintly of detergent and instant noodles.
He thought about the day—Thanu laughing at the snack shelf, the petals from the day before, the text she sent, the emoji.
For some reason, it all felt like the beginning of something bright.
He didn't know why, but part of him didn't want the next day to end.