ENHYEOK POV
"You've been weird lately," Minseok says.
"Weird how."
"This," he replies, waving a hand at me like I'm an unsolved problem. "This silent-violent thing. Yesterday you asked me to go to the arcade. With everyone. Even Areum."
I remember that. Barely. It feels like it happened to someone else. A different version of me who made plans without thinking too hard.
"And then," Minseok continues, not letting it go, "after school you suddenly drag us to karaoke instead. No explanation. Like you were trying to be somewhere."
Taeyoung slows beside us. His eyes flicker, sharp despite the casual slouch. "Were you?"
I stop walking.
The hallway noise crashes back in all at once. Lockers. Voices. Shoes. It all sounds wrong, like the volume's been turned up too fast.
"Were you planning to see someone?" Taeyoung asks. "Is that why you cancelled the arcade plan?"
My jaw tightens.
Yesterday flashes without permission.
Bora leaning over her desk, loud as usual. So, you're going on a date. We should celebrate.
Haerin nodding seriously. Karaoke.
And Seo Jiah—laughing, actually laughing—saying she wouldn't say no today.
Celebrate her date.
That's the part that sticks. Annoying. Persistent.
I don't know why I changed the plan.
The arcade was fine. Safe. Predictable. Karaoke wasn't even my idea. It just… happened. Like my brain made a decision and forgot to ask me first.
And I can't say that out loud.
Because the second I do, they'll connect dots that don't exist. They'll decide I care. They'll decide it means something.
It doesn't.
Minseok's watching me closely now. Taeyoung too. Both of them quiet in that way that feels like a trap.
If I say no, they'll keep digging.
If I pause, they'll smell blood.
So I don't pause.
I look at them. Calm. Blank. Controlled.
"Yes," I say. "I was."
Minseok blinks. "Who?"
"Someone," I reply easily. "I'm very interested in."
Taeyoung's eyebrows shoot up. "Oh? Is it a girl?"
"Yes."
Minseok leans closer. "What's her name?"
For half a second—just half—Seo Jiah's face flashes in my head. Not crying this time. Smiling. Messy. Unfiltered.
I shut it down immediately.
"You don't have to know that," I say.
They both freeze.
Then—
"Ohhh," Taeyoung grins.
Minseok laughs. "Damn. Okay. Mysterious."
I don't react. I just keep walking.
We head into the school store, fluorescent lights buzzing overhead. The place smells like instant ramen and sugar. Taeyoung grabs chips. Minseok goes straight for coffee.
I stop in front of the fridge without meaning to.
Strawberry milk.
Bright pink label. Cheap. Sweet.
Her face flashes again.
I scoff quietly and grab water instead.
I don't care if she's sad. I don't care if she's hurt. She trusted Baek Jiho. That's on her. People don't change just because you want them to.
And I'm not buying anyone comfort drinks.
Especially not her.
_____________________________
JIAH POV
My forehead is pressed to the desk.
Not dramatically. Not for attention. Just… resting there. Like if I lift my head, something worse might fall out of me.
The desk is cold. There's a tiny scratch under my eyebrow that I've traced a hundred times. Outside the window, the sky is stupidly blue. Like it didn't get the memo that my day is trash.
Clouds drift by slowly. Unbothered. Living their best atmospheric lives.
I hate them a little.
In front of me, Bora and Haerin are sitting in their seats. Same row. Same silence. No one's talking. Even the class feels off, like everyone's subconsciously agreed not to breathe too loud near me.
I hear Bora shift first. Her chair scrapes softly.
"Girl," she says, turning halfway around. Her voice is gentle but firm, like she's trying not to shake me by the shoulders. "Get over it. It's okay. It's literally just a date."
I don't move.
She keeps going anyway. "You can go another day. Amusement parks don't disappear. He didn't die. No one died."
Haerin nods beside her, pushing her glasses up nervously. "I mean… he didn't reject you," she says quietly. "He said his friend saw the tickets and wants to go with him . That's not really his fault either."
My fingers curl slightly against the desk.
Bora jumps in again, faster now. "Exactly. Jiho didn't say no to you. He said no to the date. Big difference. That matters."
Does it?
I don't answer. My mouth feels sealed shut. Like if I open it, something humiliating will spill out. Like crying. Or worse—hope.
I stare out the window harder, like the sky's going to explain something if I glare long enough.
Why doesn't anything work?
Not dramatically. Not in a tragic-main-character way. Just… ever. Why does everything with him stop right before it becomes real?
First love. That phrase feels stupid and heavy at the same time.
But it's true.
Baek Jiho is my first. First crush. First guy I liked without logic. First guy I didn't get over in a month. First guy I keep choosing even when my pride begs me to stop.
And I want him to be my last.
I don't want a list. I don't want a character arc. I don't want growth through pain like this is some inspirational post.
I just want it to work.
Once.
The universe keeps dangling him in front of me like a joke. Like, here, you can look. You can hope. But touch? Nah. That's asking for too much.
Bora sighs. "Hey. It's okay," she says again, softer now. "Really."
She stands up and turns back to her seat. I hear her bag unzip. Life moving on without me.
Haerin hesitates. I can feel it without looking.
She turns around too, slowly, like she doesn't want to leave me alone with my thoughts but also doesn't know how to stay.
Then the bell rings.
Sharp. Loud. Final.
Everyone shifts. Chairs scrape. The class exhales.
Ms. Park walks in, heels clicking, already talking about equations like hearts don't exist.
I lift my head just enough to look at the window again.
The sky hasn't changed.
Maybe that's the answer.
Maybe I'm not meant to end up with him.
And no—
that thought doesn't feel okay.
It feels like something breaking quietly
The door slides open.
Voices spill in first. Then footsteps. Familiar ones. Loud ones.
Basketball energy. Tall silhouettes. Chaos with shoulders.
Enhyeok walks in last.
I feel it before I see it. That stupid sixth sense I never asked for. My stomach tightens automatically, like it's bracing for impact.
I don't look at him. I physically do not allow my eyes to move.
Because he saw me.
In the hallway. With my eyes all red and shiny and embarrassing. With my face doing that thing where it gives away everything I didn't consent to share.
I stare at my book like it personally owes me money.
Please don't look at me. Please don't say anything. Please don't acknowledge the fact that I was five seconds away from a breakdown next to the lockers like some tragic extra.
I hear his chair scrape.
He sits down.
Right beside me.
Of course he does. Assigned seats. The universe has jokes and they're all directed at me.
My shoulders tense without permission. I feel too aware of everything—how close he is, how my sleeve brushes the edge of his desk, how my breathing sounds too loud in my own head.
But he doesn't say anything.
Doesn't turn. Doesn't glance. Doesn't do that awkward pity-check people do when they think you're fragile.
He just opens his notebook.
Flips a page.
Picks up his pencil.
Like nothing happened.
Like he didn't see me almost cry myself into another dimension ten minutes ago.
And somehow… that helps.
A lot.
The tightness in my chest loosens just a little. Not gone. Just quieter. Manageable. Like pain with the volume turned down.
Maybe he's judging me silently. Maybe he thinks I'm dramatic. Maybe he thinks I'm stupid for still liking Jiho.
But at least he's not making it a thing.
I risk a side-eye glance.
Just a quick one. Blink-fast.
He's focused on his book. Brows slightly furrowed. Pencil resting between his fingers like it belongs there. Calm. Neutral. Closed off in that very Enhyeok way.
Relief washes through me before I can stop it.
Okay. Cool. We're pretending this didn't happen. I can do that.
Ms. Park's voice cuts through the room. "Seo Jiah."
I jolt so hard my chair squeaks.
"Yes?" I blurt, already halfway standing.
Oh my god. Kill me.
She looks at me over her glasses. "What's the answer to the problem on the board?"
Problem?
Answer?
Which problem? Which board? When did this happen?
I turn slowly.
The board is full.
Like… aggressively full.
Equations everywhere. Letters. Numbers. Symbols that look personal. When did she write all this? I swear I blinked.
My brain is blank. Not empty. Actively wiped. Like someone took a sponge to it.
I don't know the answer.
I open my mouth to say it. To accept my fate. To get kicked out. Whatever.
Then—
Something slides onto my desk.
I freeze.
Enhyeok's notebook.
Just… there. Casual. Like it accidentally wandered over.
I glance at it.
The answer is written clearly. Neatly. Circled.
My heart does a weird little kick.
I look at him.
He doesn't look back.
Eyes still on the board. Expression unchanged. Like he didn't just save my academic life.
The room feels like it's holding its breath.
I straighten.
Louder than I mean to, I say the answer.
Clear. Confident. Zero hesitation.
Ms. Park nods. "Good. Sit."
The class exhales.
I sit down slowly, my pulse still racing like I just escaped something.
I turn my head just a little.
He's already writing again.
I lean closer, barely moving my lips. "Thank you."
He hums. Low. Barely there.
That's it.
And for some reason, a smile tugs at my mouth.
I don't let it fully happen.
But it's there..
The bell rings.
Sharp. Mercy-less. Like math class didn't already emotionally violate me enough.
Chairs scrape. Bags unzip. The room explodes back into noise like someone unmuted reality. People stretch, complain, laugh too loud. Lunch break energy. Survival mode.
Enhyeok and his friends are already gone.
I notice that faster than I should.
His chair's empty. Desk clean. Like he was never here. Which is fine. Good. Normal. I absolutely was not planning to accidentally think about him again today.
I start to close my books , slower than everyone else. My body still feels heavy. Like my emotions forgot to clock out.
That's when I hear it.
"Oh my god, did you hear?"
Moon Yena's voice.
Of course.
If gossip had a face, it would be Yena's. Bright eyes. Too-alert smile. Already surrounded by a circle like she's hosting a live podcast.
I freeze mid close my book.
"In the break," Yena says, lowering her voice in the fakest way possible, "Enhyeok hit Baek Jiho."
I stop breathing.
Hit?
My brain does that buffering thing. Like, excuse me? Rewind? Say that again with subtitles?
"What?" someone gasps.
I don't move. I don't turn. I just… listen harder. Like if I lean my soul a little closer, I'll hear more.
"Yeah," Yena continues, clearly enjoying this. "In the hallway. Enhyeok shoulder-checked Jiho. Hard. Didn't even apologize."
My stomach drops.
Shoulder-checked?
Why the hell—
"Jiho almost hit him back," another girl says.
"But Minseok stopped it," Yena jumps in quickly. "Grabbed him before it got ugly. Enhyeok just walked away like a psycho."
The circle reacts. Shocked noises. Dramatic hands. Someone says, "That's so hot," which—girl, jail.
I feel cold all of a sudden.
Why would Enhyeok hit Jiho?
What's his problem with Jiho?
And why do I hate the idea of them fighting over literally anything that exists in the same universe as me?
My brain scrambles for logic. Basketball rivalry? Ego thing? Boys being boys? Some dumb alpha nonsense I don't have the energy to decode?
Yeah. Probably that.
I tell myself not to care.
I tell myself it has nothing to do with me.
I tell myself Enhyeok is just… Enhyeok. Cold. Random. Intimidating. A walking red flag factory.
Still.
Why the fuck would he touch my Jiho?
The thought pops up before I can stop it, possessive and stupid and annoying.
I click my tongue quietly, annoyed at myself.
Whatever. Not my circus. Not my emotionally unavailable men.
I bend down to pull my bag from under my desk.
Then
Something slips out.
Falls.
Rolls once.
Stops right by my shoe.
I stare at it.
Pink label.
A Strawberry milk.