ENHYEOK POV
"Wait. You're telling me Jiho actually likes Jiah?"
"Yeah," he says, without hesitation. "Jiho likes her."
I don't turn fully. Just enough to see them out of the corner of my eye. Jiho's friends. Leaning against the fence like this is casual gossip and not the dumbest equation I've heard all day.
Likes her.
I stare at the road ahead, jaw tightening slightly.
So let me get this straight.
He likes her.
But he's rejected her—what—six times?
Six.
That's not mixed signals. That's not miscommunication. That's advanced-level avoidance with extra steps.
The math is not mathing.
If you like someone, you don't keep shutting the door in their face like it's a hobby. You don't smile gently and say sorry like you're returning a lost wallet. You don't let everyone watch her humiliate herself over and over while you stand there pretending it's kindness.
That's not liking someone. That's dodging responsibility.
So what, then. She's not just stupidly hopeful—she's getting actively avoided too?
Impressive. Really.
One of the guys laughs. "Man, she's gotta be insane to keep trying."
"Or blind," another adds.
I don't react. Don't comment. Just register it the same way I register noise. Useless information, filed anyway.
Footsteps come running up behind me.
"Got it!" Minseok holds up his phone like he just recovered a missing limb. "See? Crisis over."
Taehyung claps him on the shoulder. "You're still an idiot."
They slow when they notice the empty space where the Jiho fan club was standing. The fence is clear now. Conversation gone with them.
Good.
I look back toward the gate.
Jiah is still there.
Standing slightly off to the side, weight shifting from one foot to the other, eyes scanning the crowd in that way that pretends to be casual but absolutely isn't. Bora's saying something to her, but Jiah isn't really listening. She's looking past everyone, like she's waiting for a specific outline to appear.
It's fucking predictable.
She's waiting for him. Or maybe someone else, but let's not lie to ourselves. There's only ever one option with her. Same target. Same setup. Same ending.
Maybe today he confesses.
Maybe today he rejects her again.
Either way, she'll survive. She always does. Loudly.
Without her constant emotional broadcasts, Gyeongwon High would probably feel empty. No rumors. No collective reactions. No secondhand embarrassment spreading through hallways like smoke.
I scoff quietly.
Movement to my right catches my attention.
A black car pulls up near the curb. Too clean. Too expensive. The kind of car you don't park unless you know nobody's touching it. A man in a black suit steps out first, posture straight, movements efficient. He opens the back door.
Jeonhwa steps in.
No rush. No checking his surroundings. Just slides inside like this is normal, like being picked up like that at a school gate isn't a walking announcement.
The door closes softly.
Chaebol, then. Or close enough.
The car pulls away smoothly, disappearing into traffic like it was never there.
Minseok whistles. "Did you see that?"
Taehyung grins. "Transfer students these days are insane."
I don't respond. Just keep watching the empty spot where the car was.
Figures.
"By the way," Minseok says, scrolling on his phone, tone shifting. "Basketball competition dates are out."
Taehyung perks up instantly. "When?"
"Next Friday."
Friday.
I run it through my head automatically. Today's Monday. That gives us the rest of this week. Practice every day. Full gym. Crowded stands. Noise everywhere.
Of course it's going to be big.
"And," Taehyung adds, like he's been waiting for this, "we're playing against Jiho's team."
I finally look at him.
Minseok laughs. "Yeah. That one."
Something twists, slow and deliberate, somewhere low in my chest. Not excitement. Not anger. Just alignment. Like a piece clicking into place.
I smirk before I can stop it.
"Good," I say.
Taehyung raises a brow. "That's it?"
I shrug. The gate behind us is still loud. People still spilling out. Jiah still waiting.
Nothing's changed.
She'll keep hoping.
Jiho will keep avoiding.
And next Friday, the court will be loud enough to drown out everything else.
That's fine.
I adjust my bag strap and start walking.
Let them sort out their feelings.
I've got better things to do.
_____________________
JIAH POV
---
I stand in front of the gate way longer than any normal person should.
Bora already left ten minutes ago with a suspicious look and a very clear I'm not babysitting this energy. She didn't even wait for my reply, just waved and disappeared into the crowd like she knew this was going to be embarrassing and wanted plausible deniability.
So now it's just me.
And my thoughts.
And the gate.
I shift my weight from one foot to the other, then back again. I check my phone. No new messages. I pretend I'm not checking the time even though I absolutely am. I tell myself it's fine. It's been, like, what. Ten minutes. Fifteen. That's normal.
People are still leaving school. Noise everywhere. Bags hitting legs. Someone yelling about food. Someone else laughing too loud. Life continues aggressively.
Why did he tell me to wait?
The question keeps circling my brain like a mosquito I can't swat.
I replay his face from earlier. The way he said it. Casual. Soft. Like it wasn't a big deal. Like he didn't just ask me to pause my entire existence at the school gate.
I want to talk to you.
Okay. About what.
My mind immediately betrays me and jumps to the worst possible conclusion in the best possible way.
What if he finally started having feelings for me?
The thought hits and my chest does that dumb tight thing it always does, like it's preparing for impact. I know better. I really do. I've been trained by experience. Six rejections should count as a certification.
But still.
What if this time is different.
What if today is the plot twist.
God. Let's go with that. Let's fully commit. Let's manifest irresponsibly.
I imagine him apologizing. Saying he was confused before. Saying he needed time. Saying he didn't realize what he felt until he almost lost me. I imagine nodding calmly while internally screaming like I just won the lottery.
I hate myself.
I check the time again.
It's been almost an hour.
Okay. That's… less normal.
Right when I'm about to spiral into maybe he forgot territory, I see him.
Jiho walks out through the gate, alone this time, bag over his shoulder, uniform slightly wrinkled like he actually used it. My heart jumps so hard it's embarrassing. Full body reaction. No shame. No dignity.
I turn slowly, already knowing it's him, already wishing my heart would stop acting like this is a medical drama.
He smiles when he sees me. Easy. Familiar. The same smile that used to make my entire day better just by existing near me.
"Hey," he says.
"Hey," I reply, and my mouth betrays me by smiling back automatically.
He steps closer. "Did you wait long?"
I shake my head instantly. Too fast. "No. I just got here."
Which is a lie. A bold one. A confident one. I have been marinating here for an hour.
He nods, accepting it like the sweet liar he is. "Good."
There's a pause. Not awkward, but not comfortable either. The kind where you can feel the weight of expectation just sitting there between you.
"So," he says, scratching the back of his neck. "Next Friday is our basketball competition."
Oh.
I blink once. Then again.
"Yeah?" I say, even though my brain already knows where this is going.
"It's supposed to be pretty big," he continues. "A lot of people are coming. I thought… you could come too."
There it is.
That's what this is.
My stomach drops, slow and heavy, like an elevator with bad intentions. Not sharply. Just enough to sting.
I nod anyway. Because of course I do.
"Oh," I say lightly. "Yeah. Of course."
He pulls out a ticket from his pocket and holds it out to me. "I saved you one."
I take it. Our fingers barely brush. I pretend I don't notice. I pretend my heart doesn't absolutely lose its mind over a half-second of contact.
"That's nice," I say, and I mean it. In a sad way.
He smiles again. That same smile. "I should get going."
"Yeah," I reply. "Good luck with practice."
He nods, lifts a hand in a small wave, and walks away.
Just like that.
I stand there, waving back like an idiot until he's fully gone.
And then I stop.
And I just… stand.
This is it?
This is what I waited an hour for?
A ticket?
I look down at the thin piece of paper in my hand and scoff quietly. A laugh slips out, dry and tired.
Wow. Amazing. Groundbreaking. Truly worth the emotional investment.
Thunder cracks overhead suddenly, loud enough that I flinch. My shoulders jump. A few people nearby curse loudly.
Oh, fuck.
I look up just in time to feel the first heavy drops hit my face.
Rain. Of course.
I stuff the ticket into my bag and start moving fast toward the bus stop. The gate leads downhill, a long slope that feels ten times longer when you're in a hurry. The rain picks up almost instantly, soaking my uniform, sticking my hair to my face.
I consider ducking into a store, spot a small shelter ahead—
And then
a hand wraps around my wrist.
Firm.
Sudden.
I gasp before I can stop it, stumbling as I'm pulled sharply to the side, into somewhere darker, covered, hidden from the rain and the crowd.
My heart slams against my ribs.
"What the hell—"
A voice cuts through me before I finish.
Low.
Deep.
Amused.
"Did you get rejected again?"
Yu Enhyeok.