Enhyeok is sitting there.
Relaxed. One arm draped over the back of the couch. Legs crossed like he owns the room.
And next to him—
Park Areum.
My brain does that thing where it freezes, then immediately spirals, then aggressively pretends it didn't see anything even though it absolutely did. Like nope. Close tab. Clear cache. Exit app.
Taeyoung is yelling into the mic like he's being possessed by a mid-2000s rapper. Minseok is laughing so hard he's folded in half. Jiyon is filming, obviously, because embarrassing footage is his love language.
And then Enhyeok looks up.
Just once.
His eyes flick from Bora… to Haerin… to me. Flat. Blank. Zero reaction. Like we're background NPCs who accidentally wandered into the wrong cutscene.
Minseok notices us too. Taeyoung squints. Jiyon lowers his phone, confused. Areum tilts her head slightly, polite smile already on her face like she's meeting classmates at a wedding buffet.
Silence stretches. Thick. Awkward. Loud in my ears.
Bora recovers first because of course she does.
She laughs way too loudly. "HAHA—sorry! Wrong room!"
She bows. A full bow. Dramatic. Embarrassing.
I grab the back of her jacket immediately. Like now. Abort mission. Evacuate.
"Let's go," I hiss, already dragging her backward.
Haerin, bless her honest soul, whispers as we turn away, "Wait… aren't they all here together?"
I stop for half a second. Just long enough for my chest to tighten in that annoying, unnecessary way.
"That's not our fucking business," I say quickly. Too quickly. "Let's go."
I don't look back. Not even a little. I refuse. I physically choose peace.
We find another room two doors down. Smaller. Smells like fries and disinfectant. The lights are dim and purple and slightly flickering like they're also emotionally unstable.
Bora slams the door shut behind us. "Okay WOW. That was cursed."
Haerin sets her bag down neatly. "I thought this was a girls thing."
"It still is," I say, grabbing a mic and immediately dropping it because it's sticky. "Ew. Why is it sticky."
Bora is already scrolling through the song list. "Trauma bonding counts. Sit."
We order food. Fries. Tteokbokki. Something fried I don't recognize. Bora starts singing off-key on purpose. Haerin claps politely like she's at a kindergarten recital. I laugh despite myself. My chest loosens a bit.
Halfway through our third song, while Bora is aggressively dancing like she's fighting demons, the thought hits me again.
The date.
I sit back down, chewing on a fry. "Okay but like… what do I wear."
Bora doesn't even look at me. "Short."
Haerin immediately whips her head around. "NO."
"Relax," Bora says. "I mean cute short. Not jailbait short."
"That's worse," Haerin mutters.
I groan and slide down the couch. "I don't want to look desperate."
Bora snorts. "Too late."
Haerin nudges her. "Ignore her. Wear something comfortable. Something you won't panic-sweat in."
But my brain is already gone. Fully checked out.
I'm imagining lights. Music. The smell of popcorn. Jiho standing next to me, smiling, asking which ride first. I imagine him laughing. I imagine holding a stupid balloon I pretend I don't care about. I imagine the night being soft and easy and normal for once.
"Earth to Jiah," Bora says, snapping her fingers. "You're doing that face."
"What face," I ask defensively.
"The delulu one," Haerin says gently.
I sit up, embarrassed. "…Shut up."
Bora grins. "You're already planning the wedding, huh."
"I AM NOT."
They both laugh. The room fills with noise again. Music. Talking. Food.
And for now—just for now—I let myself stay right here.
-----------
The next day drags itself into existence like it hates me personally.
Korean literature. Mr. Han. Third period. The kind of class where time slows down out of spite.
Mr. Han is mid-lecture, chalk squeaking against the board while he talks about symbolism and emotional restraint and some poet who clearly never had a crush ruining his academic career. My notebook is open. Completely useless. I've written "DATE????" in the corner and circled it three times like that's productive.
I keep checking the clock.
Five minutes pass.
Feels like forty-seven years.
I just need this class to end so I can see Jiho. Just for two seconds. I don't even need a full conversation. I just want to say it. I'm ready. I'll go. I'm not backing out. Please don't think I ghosted you like a coward.
My leg bounces under the desk. My pen clicks. My brain is screaming GO GO GO like it's a malfunctioning GPS.
I glance sideways without meaning to.
Enhyeok is actually taking notes.
Like. Properly. Posture straight. Pen moving. Eyes on the board. Focused in a way that feels almost aggressive. Not a single ounce of classroom suffering on his face. No boredom. No zoning out. Just calm concentration like he was born for Korean literature at 10 a.m.
What a freak.
The thought from yesterday sneaks back in before I can stop it. Karaoke. Areum. Couch. His friends. The whole weird visual my brain definitely did not ask for.
I lean slightly toward him and whisper, barely moving my lips, "Why did you go on a date with her… with your friends?"
His pen pauses.
Just for a second.
Then it keeps moving like I said nothing.
Excuse me?
"I asked you," I whisper again, annoyed now. "Did you hear me or are you ignoring me on purpose?"
This time he turns his head. Slowly. Looks at me like I just asked him something deeply unnecessary.
"Why do you care?" he says quietly.
I blink. "Why are you so rude?"
"I'm not," he replies, calm as ever.
"Yes you are," I shoot back. "You always are."
His eyes flick back to the board. "You talk too much."
Oh my god.
I open my mouth to absolutely destroy him when—
"Seo Jiah," Mr. Han's voice cuts through the room, sharp but tired, "why are you talking during my lecture?"
My soul leaves my body.
Every head turns. Bora gives me the you're-dead look from two rows ahead. Haerin freezes like a startled deer.
"I—" I start, then immediately blank. Nothing comes out. My brain is just white noise and panic and oh my god why am I like this.
And then—
"She was asking a question," Enhyeok says.
The room stills.
I whip my head toward him so fast I almost pull something.
Mr. Han raises a brow. "About?"
Enhyeok doesn't even hesitate. "The metaphor in the third stanza. She didn't understand the transition."
I stare at him.
Actually stare.
Walking fridge just… lied for me?
Mr. Han nods like this makes sense. "Good. Pay attention, Seo Jiah."
He turns back to the board and keeps talking like my entire worldview didn't just glitch.
I sit there stunned, heart thudding, ears hot.
When the noise of chalk fills the room again, I whisper, "Why did you save me?"
He doesn't look at me. "I didn't."
"Yes you did."
"I just said the truth."
I scoff and roll my eyes so hard it almost hurts. "Sure. Poet defender."
He ignores me again.
I lean back in my chair, arms crossed, watching him out of the corner of my eye. Still focused. Still cold. Still acting like nothing happened.
Seriously… how does Park Areum like this guy? How does she not freeze to death sitting next to him? Does she bring a jacket? Emotional gloves? Survival gear?
The bell can't ring fast enough.
I turn back to my notebook, heart still buzzing, brain already running ahead to Jiho and amusement parks and stupid lights—
And decide, firmly, that Enhyeok is exhausting.
Helpful.
But exhausting.
The bell rings like it's late for somewhere important, sharp and loud and finally merciful.
I'm out of my seat before the sound even finishes echoing. Chair screeches. Zero dignity. I bolt.
"JIAH—WAIT—" Bora yells behind me.
"WHY ARE YOU RUNNING—" Haerin adds, already losing breath.
I wave my hand in the air without looking back. Some kind of encouragement gesture. Or goodbye. Or both. My legs are moving faster than my brain can catch up, sneakers slapping against the hallway floor like they're snitching on me.
People stare. I don't care. I care so much I've looped back to not caring.
Jiho's class is on the other side of the building, of course it is. Because why wouldn't the universe add cardio to emotional trauma. By the time I reach it, my lungs feel like they're on strike.
I stop just a few steps behind the classroom door.
Breathe.
Calm down.
Act normal.
I bend slightly, hands on my knees, pretending I dropped something important instead of sprinting like a desperate idiot. My heart is pounding so hard it feels loud. I smooth my hair. Straighten my uniform. Fix my face into something neutral. Casual. Girl who did not just run like her life depended on this conversation.
Okay. Walking speed. Human speed.
I step forward.
Jiho is standing outside his classroom, talking to someone who quickly walks away when they see me. He notices me then. His eyes lift. He smiles.
That smile.
Still works. Unfortunately.
I walk up to him, hands clasped behind my back so they don't shake. "Hey."
"Hey," he says easily.
There's a pause. A small one. The kind where everything feels suspended and fragile.
"You asked me yesterday," I say, forcing my voice to sound steady. "About the amusement park." I take a breath. "I think I'm ready for it."
There. Said it. No running now.
His smile shifts. Not disappears. Just… changes. Softer. Hesitant.
"Oh," he says. Then, "About that…"
My stomach drops before he even finishes. Like my body already knows and my brain is just catching up.
"My friend saw the tickets," he continues, rubbing the back of his neck. "And he really wanted to go with me. I didn't think it would be a big deal but…" He lets out a small awkward laugh. "I'm really sorry."
The hallway noise fades. Or maybe my ears just stop working.
Friend.
Wants to come.
With you.
"Oh," I say. The word comes out light. Too light. Like it doesn't weigh anything. Like it didn't just punch straight through my chest.
I swallow. My throat feels tight, like it's physically resisting the lie I'm about to tell. "It's okay," I say quickly. "Really. It's fine."
I even smile. God help me, I smile.
He looks relieved. That's the part that hurts the most. "Thanks for understanding," he says.
"Yeah," I reply. "No problem."
I take a step back. Then another. I don't trust myself to stand any closer.
"Well," I add, because silence feels dangerous, "have fun."
"You too," he says, automatically. Then blinks. "I mean—"
"It's okay," I repeat, already turning away.
I walk. Slowly. Back toward my class. Head down. Shoulders heavy. Like someone turned the gravity up without warning.
The hallway is bright. Loud. Normal. Everything keeps moving like nothing just happened.
My smile slips the second he's out of sight.
The spark that's been buzzing in my chest since yesterday just… dies. No explosion. No drama. Just quiet. Gone. Like someone flipped a switch.
Did I just get rejected again?