JIAH POV
Baek Jiho.
My steps slow without permission. A smile creeps up, automatic and stupid and hopeful. Like muscle memory that never learned its lesson.
Of course he's here. Of course. Maybe this is fate. Maybe the universe felt bad. Maybe—
Then I notice he's not alone.
There's someone beside him.
A girl.
My brain stutters. Like it skips a frame. I blink once. Then again. Harder this time, as if vision works like buffering.
I can't see her face. Just her back. Long hair brushing her shoulders. She's leaning slightly toward him, close enough that their arms almost touch. Almost. But not in an accidental way. In a comfortable way.
Jiho laughs.
Actually laughs.
Not the polite smile. Not the gentle "I'm nice" curve of his lips. The real one. The one that pulls at his eyes and makes his shoulders loosen like he's not thinking about how he looks.
My smile doesn't disappear immediately.
It just… pauses. Hangs there. Confused.
Okay. Breathe. Think. He said he was going with a friend. That's what he told me. Right? I replay it in my head like CCTV footage.
My friend saw the tickets. He really wanted to go with me.
He.
He.
I remember it clearly. Too clearly. My brain has a highlight reel of that conversation, unfortunately in HD.
So where's the friend?
Is she the friend?
That doesn't make sense. Unless the friend is… a girl. Which is possible. Obviously. I'm not twelve. I understand genders. But he said he. Not they. Not someone. He.
Unless he lied.
No. Don't jump. Don't spiral. Be normal. For once in your life, be normal.
I start walking again. Slowly. Casual. Like I'm just another person on the street with places to be and emotional stability.
They turn slightly, swallowed by the crowd. People pass between us. A couple holding hands. A kid dragging a balloon. Someone bumping into my shoulder without apologizing.
I almost lose sight of them.
Panic hits fast and stupid.
My feet move before I fully decide. I follow.
Not running. Not chasing. Just… walking with intention. Like this is totally something sane people do on Saturdays.
The crowd thickens. Noise rises. Someone's busking nearby. Coins clinking. A guitar slightly out of tune.
I catch glimpses of Jiho's jacket. His hair. The way he tilts his head when he listens. She says something and he leans closer, laughing again.
God.
Please. Please let her be his cousin. Or his sister. Or his childhood neighbor who's visiting from out of town. Or a girl who's aggressively friend-zoned. I'm not picky. I'll take anything.
I whisper it under my breath like a prayer. "Please be his sister. I will literally never complain again."
They stop near a crosswalk. The light's red. I slow, pretending to look at my phone. My reflection stares back at me from the black screen. Messy bun. Tired eyes. Girl who did not get the memo to move on.
She says something again. I can't hear it over the traffic, but Jiho smiles that same smile and says something back. She nudges him lightly with her elbow.
That tiny gesture hits harder than it should.
Friends do that.
But also… not-friends do that.
My chest tightens. Again. Familiar now. Like my heart knows this routine and is already bracing.
The light turns green. They move. I move too, staying a few steps behind. Close enough to see. Far enough to pretend I'm not following like a complete creep.
I hate this version of me.
The one who hopes. The one who follows. The one who still thinks there's an explanation that won't hurt.
They turn down a street toward the amusement park direction.
Of course they do.
My stomach drops.
This is the amusement park day.
Just not with me.
Sound blurs. Like someone shoved cotton in my ears. The street is still loud, but it feels far away. Muted. I hear my own heartbeat instead. Too fast. Too loud.
I slow again. My steps feel heavier now. Like my legs are wading through something thick.
Please. Please let me be wrong.
They pause. She says something and points ahead, animated. Jiho listens, nodding. Comfortable. Familiar.
Something inside me cracks.
Not loudly. No dramatic shatter. Just a quiet split, like ice under pressure.
I walk again.
Because stopping feels like admitting something. And I am excellent at not admitting things.
Okay. Facts. Let's do facts. Calm facts. Rational brain, please clock in.
Baek Jiho does not have a girlfriend. That's a known thing. Everyone knows that. If he did, the school would know within twelve minutes. There would be whispers, screenshots, conspiracy theories, at least one crying girl in a bathroom stall. None of that happened.
He also doesn't have close female friends. Like, at all. He's polite. Distant. Keeps a neat little bubble around himself like a museum exhibit. Look but don't touch.
Which means—
This could be family.
Yes. That's it. Family. Sister. Cousin. Distant cousin. Very distant cousin. Like second cousin twice removed. I don't know how families work. But it's possible.
I nod to myself like I just cracked a case.
See? You're overthinking. Again. Shocking.
But then why does my chest feel like someone tied a knot in it and keeps pulling?
Why does my heart feel jittery, like it drank too much coffee and now regrets every life choice?
I swallow and keep walking.
I'm not even that close to them. A few steps. That's it. This is normal. Normal people walk behind other people all the time. It's called a sidewalk. It's called society.
Jiho says something and she laughs again. Loud this time. Easy. She reaches out and lightly grabs his sleeve for half a second, like it's instinct.
My stomach flips.
Okay. That's… fine. Families do that too. Probably. I think.
God, why am I like this?
It's fucking clear. He doesn't like me like that. He never has. If he did, I wouldn't be spending my Saturdays emotionally spiraling behind him like a background character with unresolved trauma.
So why am I doing this?
Why am I still hoping for some dumb explanation that makes me feel less stupid?
He talked to me nicely. That's it. He was kind. He smiled. He treated me like a human being and my brain immediately went, maybe this is something.
Pathetic.
My pace slows again. My legs feel weird. Heavy. Light. Both somehow. My hands are cold even though the weather's fine.
They're closer now. Too close. I can hear pieces of their conversation when the crowd thins.
"—told you it'd be crowded—"
"—should've come earlier—"
Normal. Casual. Like they've done this before.
I almost laugh. A sharp, quiet sound that gets stuck in my throat.
I'm about to stop. I swear. I'm about to turn around and walk away with what little dignity I have left.
Then Jiho stops walking.
Just suddenly. Like he sensed something.
My heart slams into my ribs.
He turns his head slightly. Not fully. Just enough. His eyes scan the crowd behind him.
Oh shit.
Panic hits hard and stupid.
I duck into the nearest side corridor without thinking. It's narrow, shadowy, tucked between two buildings like it wasn't meant to be noticed. My shoulder brushes the wall. My breath comes out too fast.
I press myself deeper into it, heart pounding so loud I'm convinced it's echoing.
Through the gap, I see him.
Jiho's stopped completely now. He looks… confused. Almost suspicious. His gaze lingers on the corridor entrance.
For half a second, I think he sees me.
My stomach drops straight to hell.
I step back instinctively, further into the corridor. The light fades fast. It's darker here, cooler. My sneakers scuff against the ground.
Then—
"What the—?"
There's someone behind me.
I spin around and react purely on survival instinct and humiliation.
My hand flies up and clamps over a mouth.
Warm. Solid. Definitely a person. Definitely not a wall.
"Shh," I whisper harshly, eyes darting back toward the street. "Don't—"
Jiho shifts outside. He looks directly at the corridor now.
I freeze.
My hand is still over the stranger's mouth. My fingers press into his cheek. I can feel his breath against my palm. Steady. Not panicked.
We're way too close.
I don't know why, but a stupid little smirk forms under my hand.
And that's when reality punches me in the face.
Why is there a mouth under my hand.
Why is it warm.
Why is the person behind me not freaking out.
A voice speaks. Low. Calm. Right against my palm.
"Are you stalking him?"
It's deep. Rough around the edges. Amused.
My soul exits my body.
I yank my hand back like I just touched a hot stove and spin fully around.
The light from the street slips into the corridor just enough to hit his face.
And I freeze.
Because it's him.
Elevator boy.
Hospital VIP hallway. Hood up. Judgy eyes. Unfair face.
He's standing there like this is the most entertaining thing that's happened to him all week.
Tall. Too close. One eyebrow lifted. A slow, knowing smirk tugging at his mouth.
The shadows cut sharp lines across his face, but the light catches his eyes.
Dark. Focused. On me.
I stare.
He stares back.
Neither of us moves.
The noise of the street hums in the background. Jiho's footsteps fade away. The moment stretches, thin and tight and unreal.
My brain finally reboots.
"…This," I say weakly, gesturing between us, "is not what it looks like."
His smirk widens just a little.
"Oh," he says, voice lazy, eyes flicking once toward where Jiho disappeared. Then back to me. "It looks exactly like what it is."
I swallow.
Of all people.
Of all places.
Why him??