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likeafeverrr · 17 days ago

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˖*°࿐ •*⁀➷ 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆❜𝒔 𝒏𝒐 𝒊 𝒊𝒏 𝒇𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒏𝒅𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒑

➜ summary: you don't really like jungwon. too bad, he likes you.

pairing: yjw x f!reader, wc: 13k words , genre: highschool, fluff, w: rude jokes, cussing

Yang Jungwon. Some claimed he was the greatest being to grace the earth since Albert Einstein. Others (okay, just you) thought he was stuck-up, snobby, and a walking narcissist.

Unfortunately, you fell squarely into the latter category. Fortunately, you were also the president, vice-president, and sole member of his anti-fan club. Uncontested views? Check. Lifelong grudge? Check. Emotional maturity? Debatable.

You couldn’t even remember exactly when your vendetta against him began. Maybe it was that time in fourth grade when he beat you in the spelling bee because you messed up the word “friendship.” Who knew there was an ‘i’ in friendship? (Jungwon did. Of course he did.)

Or maybe—and this one still haunts your dreams—it was that fateful night at your first senior party. The lights were dim, the music was loud, and Jungwon spun the bottle. It landed on you. Everyone screamed. He looked you dead in the eye, let out a low chuckle, and said:

“I can’t take her first kiss like this.”

Cue the chorus of laughter that still echoes in your ears during your quiet poops.

So no. You didn’t like Jungwon. At all. Obviously.

You glanced up at the boys near the front of the classroom. They were crowded around the class skeleton, draping a hoodie over its shoulders and pretending it was a hot girl. You blinked once, then sighed long and hard. This was your peer group. Children. Absolute children. To your left, a group of girls giggled behind manicured hands, their eyes glued to their phones. You didn’t have to look twice to know they were texting their college boyfriends, acting like seventeen wasn’t a whole year away from knowing how taxes worked.

Maybe you did, in fact, relate to that one viral Jaden Smith video. The one where he claimed his peers were all stupid and that he preferred to talk about the political and economic state of the world. Maybe you too wanted to host a philosophical podcast at lunch instead of watching Park Jongseong from the neighbouring class pretend the skeleton had an OnlyFans.

But the truth was: you were still in high school. Still surrounded by greasy cafeteria fries, half-hearted gossip, and teenage delusion. You had your own brand of immaturity—though you’d never admit it. You were far too busy judging everyone else to notice your own. Just like any other high schooler.

You turned back to Heeseung, who was slumped dramatically on his desk, face buried in his arms like the world had ended overnight.

“Hee,” you whispered—not exactly a whisper, more like a stage-whisper with yelling ambitions.

He groaned without lifting his head. “Didn’t get any sleep last night. Don’t bother me.”

“You son of a—this is important!”

“Now what,” he mumbled, “could possibly be more important than my beauty sleep?”

“It’s really not my fault you stayed up all night playing that wretched game of—”

“I was this close to Diamond again!” Heeseung sat up with a jolt, eyes wide and bloodshot with the weight of regret. He turned to you, serious as a man whose world had crumbled. “That stupid, no-good Park Sunghoon lost it for all of us.”

You scoffed. “Sure. Blame Sunghoon.”

Your eye roll was practically a full-body movement. Heeseung looked like he was about to launch into a passionate monologue about teamwork and betrayal, but just as he opened his mouth—

The classroom door creaked open.

And in walked the bane of your existence.

Well, not walked exactly. He sauntered in, with the kind of swagger reserved for people who peaked at seventeen. His hand went up lazily in greeting, a wave aimed toward the back of the class.

“Ni-ki!” he called out, voice way too loud for eight in the morning, like he was the only person who existed in this entire room.

You rolled your eyes so hard you could see your own brain. Could he not tell that other people were trying to have a breakdown in peace? Rude.

“Did you wake me up just to stare at Yang Jungwon?” Heeseung muttered..

“No. I actually wanted to ask if you were coming over after school. My mom misses you.”

Heeseung grinned as he stretched, cracking his neck like he was preparing for battle. “I guess even she prefers me over you.”

“I’ll kill you in your sleep.”

“And your mom will kill you for even thinking about laying hands on her precious son-in-law.”

“We’re not getting married, Lee.”

“I hope not. I’m trying to have good-looking children.”

“You’re an asshole.”

“Aw, come on. You love me.”

You rolled your eyes again, but this time, a smile tugged at the corners of your lips before you could stop it.

Heeseung shifted, burying his face back into his arms like he was preparing for hibernation, then turned his head just slightly to glance at you.

“Y’know I was kidding, right?” he murmured.

“Huh?”

“You’re pretty,” he said, simple as breathing. “Before you start overthinking in there—” he lazily pointed to your forehead, “—I figured I’d clarify.”

You rolled your eyes, heat threatening to creep up your neck. “Yes, Heeseung. I know you’re joking.”

“Good,” he mumbled, eyes already closing again. “Because if anyone tells you otherwise, they’re stupid.”

And with a dramatic sigh and a yawn, he slipped right back into sleep.

You liked Heeseung. Like… liked liked him.

Maybe it was because he was the only guy friend you had who didn’t make you want to choke yourself with a charging cable. Or maybe it was the way he always knew how far to go with his jokes—never pushing too hard, never making you feel like the punchline. He just got you. Like he had some internal manual titled How to Handle You Without Ruining Everything. He was just… right.

You thought he was handsome. Kind. Genuinely funny. And yet, he never really seemed interested in dating anyone. Which was objectively bizarre, considering how many girls trailed after him.

But he’d just smile, ruffle their hair like an older brother, and say, “I’m sorry, I’m not really looking for anything right now. But thank you for being honest.” Then he’d say something so sweet—so emotionally intelligent—it almost cancelled out the heartbreak.

But it wasn’t like you were in love with the guy. That would be insane. It was just a silly little crush. Something that should’ve faded after a few weeks. Only… it had been six months.

You shrugged to yourself. It’s not like you’d ever act on it. Heeseung was eyeing some fancy art school in Seoul, while you were hoping for SNU, fingers crossed for a spot in English Language and Literature. You were both headed in opposite directions, and you’d made peace with that.

Jungwon wasn’t exactly sure when it started. All he knew was that you had been staring at him for the past few minutes. And not the accidental kind, either. The kind that lingered.

At first, he thought maybe there was something on his face. Food, maybe. Ink? But no—he had checked. Twice. Then he thought you might be staring past him. But there was literally nothing behind him except a dead plant and Ni-ki trying to balance a pen on his nose.

So what was it?

He wasn’t trying to be narcissistic. God, no. Contrary to popular belief, he hated that reputation. He was just curious. Mildly intrigued. Intellectually invested, even. Then you stood up and walked out of the room, presumably to the toilet. And before he could stop himself, Jungwon was at your desk. Sitting in your seat.

He faced the direction you’d been looking, squinting slightly. His eyes landed on his own desk. Then his own chair. Then himself, reflected in the window across from where you sat.

Oh.

Interesting.

His gaze drifted downward. He didn’t mean to snoop. He really didn’t. But there, scribbled hastily at the top of your notebook, was a line repeated over and over in varying levels of despairing handwriting:

“You’ll only get hurt. Don’t fall for him. You’ll only get hurt. Don’t fall for him.”

His eyebrows slowly crept up his forehead.

Okay. Wow. That was a lot. Intense, even. Dramatic. A little poetic, if he was being honest.

And then—just to make things worse—his eyes fell on the side pocket of your pencil case. A doodle of a heart. Literally. A heart. With... a J scribbled next to it. Could've been anyone. But this was high school. It was always obvious.

He sat back, blinking in disbelief.

You liked him.

Holy shit.

He stood abruptly, knocking your chair back an inch. He didn’t mean to see all of that. God, he really didn’t. He ran a hand through his hair and muttered a quiet curse under his breath.

And just as he turned to walk away, he heard footsteps behind him. You. Coming back.

Panicked, he grabbed the first thing he saw—your eraser—and pretended to inspect it like it was the most fascinating thing in the world. You walked in just in time to see Jungwon squinting down at your strawberry-scented eraser like it held the secrets to the universe.

“What the hell are you doing?” you asked, blinking.

He looked up, face neutral, maybe a little smug. “Didn’t know you were so into cryptic love notes,” he said, voice maddeningly calm.

You froze. “Huh?”

He pointed casually at your notebook, then raised a brow. “You’re being kind of obvious, you know.”

“Obvious about what?” you snapped, walking back to your seat, already feeling that familiar sense of dread pooling in your stomach.

“Nothing,” he said, smile just barely twitching at the corners. “Your secret’s safe with me.”

And with that, he walked off with your eraser in hand.

For the rest of class, you could feel it, eyes burning into the back of your skull like laser beams. Yang Jungwon, for some reason only the gods could explain, wouldn’t stop staring at you.

You turned your head slightly, catching him in the act. His gaze snapped up, caught red-handed. You narrowed your eyes and offered him the most vicious glare you could muster, like you were trying to kill him with pure facial expression alone.

“Stop staring!"

After class, Heeseung shot out of his seat like a rocket, clutching his stomach and mumbling something about the milk he drank that morning definitely being expired.

“I swear to God, if I die like this—” he was already halfway out the door.

You snorted, laughing as you packed up your books, slinging your bag over one shoulder while checking your phone. Sunghoon, Jay, and Jake had already texted the group chat, promising to save you and Heeseung a seat at the cafeteria. You were halfway to freedom.

Until an arm blocked your exit.

“What do you want?”

He tilted his head at you, that same smug smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Y’know, I was wondering why you were playing this whole... thing. The game. The attitude. The icy act. And now I know.”

You blinked. “Know what?”

He grinned wider, like he was about to drop the world’s most obvious truth bomb. “Still playing dumb?”

“What?”

“Come on.” He nudged your shoulder lightly with his own. “Be honest.”

You stared at him, bewildered. “What are you talking about?”

Jungwon rolled his eyes, as if you were the one being dramatic. “Dude. It’s obvious. Just give it up.”

You blinked. Once. Twice. “What—are you on drugs?”

“No—! I—” He looked personally offended by the question, then let out a long-suffering sigh. “I know you like me.”

Silence.

You looked at Jungwon. Then at the floor. Then back at Jungwon.

And then, you burst out laughing.

“You think—” you gasped between giggles, “you think I like you?”

Another wave of uncontrollable laughter ripped through you. You clutched your side, barely able to breathe.

Jungwon blinked, watching you spiral, visibly unsure if he should be flattered or insulted.

By minute two of your personal stand-up comedy routine, his smile had disappeared completely. His arms crossed. His brows furrowed. The tips of his ears turned the faintest shade of pink.

“Okay,” he said, arms still crossed, watching you as your laughter finally died down into breathless wheezing. “You done?”

You wiped your eyes, still catching your breath. “I mean—seriously, Jungwon. Me? Like you? Be so serious right now.”

He stared at you like you were the one being delusional. “I am being serious.”

“You stare at me in class,” he said, casually following you. “A lot.”

You turned on your heel. “What? I glare at you in class.”

“Staring is staring,” he shrugged. “Even with murderous intent.”

“That doesn’t count—”

“You always roll your eyes at me”

“That’s because you deserve it.”

He stepped closer. “You laugh at my jokes.”

“They’re not even funny, it’s like pitiful laughter” you snapped.

“But you still laugh.”

You opened your mouth. Closed it.

Jungwon’s eyes glinted like he’d just scored a point in a very dumb game only he was playing. “You let me copy your notes.”

“That’s because you’d fail if I didn’t!”

“You scold me when I forget my umbrella, and you told Jay I shouldn’t drink soda after 10 p.m. because ‘some people are still growing.’”

“That was a general health comment I made once at a party!”

“Sure it was,” he said smugly.

You stared at him, half in disbelief, half… okay, maybe just a tiny bit panicked. Not because he was right. He wasn’t. Obviously. But because somehow, he had compiled a semi-coherent case of you being suspiciously human around him.

“Jungwon,” you said slowly, carefully, like explaining to a child. “I do not like you.”

He squinted at you, like you were a glitch in his very confident reality.

“Yes, you do.”

“No, I don’t.”

“Yes, you do.”

“I would rather set myself on fire.”

“And I would bring the marshmallows. But that doesn’t change the fact that you like me.”

You poked your chicken like it was the one who had personally accused you of emotional damage.

“The chicken’s already dead,” Jay said casually.

You looked up and scowled at him. He raised his hands in mock defence.

“Damn. The things I get for just saying stuff.”

“She looks on edge… Should we tell her the bad news now or later?” Jake whispered.

You turned your glare to him. “What bad news?”

“Nothing!” Jake’s voice shot up an octave. His eyes darted away.

You were terrifying when you were pissed. Like, hella terrifying. Only two people could handle you in that state: Heeseung and your mother.

“Sim Jaeyun, I will tear you up.”

Jake folded instantly. “The rumor! The one about you liking Jungwon and how he rejected you!”

You froze.

“What?!”

You looked at Jake, then at the rest of your friends who were now all suddenly very interested in the contents of their trays.

“Who started this rumour?”

“A few upperclassmen overheard your little... conversation,” Jake said, wincing.

“That conversation happened ten minutes ago.” you yelped.

Jay shrugged, grimacing. “You know how this school is. Gossip moves fast.”

“So it’s true?” Sunghoon asked, brows raised.

“Ew no!” you snapped, gagging.

Your friends blinked at you in unison.

“The rumor… it’s kinda spreading through the school really fast,” Jake said carefully. “I tried to stop it.”

“Oh really?” you deadpanned. “What did you do?”

He glanced up, sheepish. “I said, ‘oh really?’”

You stared at him. “That’s your damage control?”

“I don’t know! I was just curious if it was true!”

You rubbed your temples. “Don’t you think you guys would know if it was true?”

Jake opened his mouth, but Heeseung beat him to it. “You rarely tell us anything about that secret crush you’re harboring. We just assumed it was him.”

That made you pause. Your head shot up. “What?”

“Oh, cut the crap,” Sunghoon said, leaning back in his seat. “We know you’re in love with someone.”

“No, I’m not.”

“Oh please,” Jay chimed in. “You’re always scribbling those cringe girly things in your textbooks.”

You narrowed your eyes. “I do not.”

“You literally wrote ‘love is a knife’ next to a drawing of a bleeding heart,” Sunghoon said.

“That was an artistic expression!”

“Was it?” Heeseung said through a mouthful of rice.

Jake nodded. “Also, you wrote ‘you’ll only get hurt, don’t fall for him’ like ten times on your English test paper.”

You clutched your tray like it was the only thing keeping you tethered to Earth. “Can we not dissect my mental breakdowns over lunch?!”

The table went quiet for two seconds. Then Jay asked, “So if it’s not Jungwon, then who is it?”

You blinked. Trying not to look over at Heeseung. Then stood up.

“Where are you going?” Jay called.

“To find out who started this rumor,” you said, already storming off.

The noise around you, the clatter of trays, the conversations, the squeak of sneakers on tile—faded into white noise. Your eyes were locked onto one person, and one person only: Yang Jungwon.

He sat at a table near the windows with Ni-ki and Sunoo, laughing at something on Ni-ki’s phone, chopsticks mid-air as he reached for a piece of meat. He didn’t even see you coming.

But he looked up just as your shadow fell over the table.

And the moment his eyes met yours?

It was done.

His expression shifted. Mouth slightly parted. Shock flashing across his face for just a split second before it was replaced by that annoyingly calm, infuriatingly confident smirk. Like he knew.

The entire cafeteria quieted. Forks paused midair. Conversations stopped mid-word. Every single person turned to look. It was like the first ten seconds of a movie scene, right before someone makes a very public mistake.

You didn’t care.

You reached down, grabbed the front of his uniform, and yanked his tie upward, forcing him to stand.

Jungwon stood slowly, the smirk never leaving his face. Your fists were tight in his tie. His face was close now and every pair of eyes in the room was on the two of you.

“We need to talk.”

“Well, whatever happened to ‘hello’?” Jungwon said, his voice laced with amusement as you dragged him out of the cafeteria.

You stopped just outside the doors, where the hallway was quiet and empty except for the vending machine humming in the corner. You turned to face him, still gripping his tie, though you finally let go with a dramatic flick of your wrist.

“Did you start that rumor?” you snapped.

Jungwon raised an eyebrow. “What rumor?”

“Don’t play dumb.”

He blinked. “You’re going to have to be more specific. There are a lot of rumors about me. I’m very mysterious.”

You let out a breath through your nose. “The one where I like you. You absolute—” You cut yourself off before your vocabulary got too colorful. “Did you spread it?”

“You think I started that rumor?” he asked, grinning as he leaned a shoulder casually against the wall. “Why would I do that?”

“I don’t know!” you snapped. “Maybe because your ego’s the size of the entire school—”

He held up a hand. “Think about it. Why would I spread the idea that you like me?” He looked at you, head tilted.

You hated that he had a point.

You stared at him, lips pressed into a thin line. “Look. I don’t like you.”

“Mmm,” he said, pretending to ponder. “Sure.”

“I don’t.”

“Oh, no, totally. You glare at me because you’re overwhelmed with love.”

You narrowed your eyes. “I don’t even like you like that—”

“I know, I know,” Jungwon said, clearly enjoying himself. “It’s okay to be scared of your feelings. Happens to the best of—”

“For God’s sake, I like Heeseung!” you snapped, voice loud and sharp enough to slice through the air like a blade.

Silence.

Jungwon went completely still, the smirk wiped off his face so fast it was like it had never been there to begin with. He stared at you.

“I—” you tried.

But the words got stuck somewhere in your throat.

You looked at him. He looked at you.

And in that quiet hallway, you felt the air around you shift. Not because of what you’d said about him but because of what you’d accidentally admitted about someone else.

Your hand flew up, clamping over your mouth.

Too late.

You said it.

Jungwon blinked once, but didn’t speak. He just stood there, his tie slightly wrinkled, hair a little messy from when you’d grabbed him earlier, like the entire moment had punched a hole in whatever game the two of you had been playing.

You stormed off, heart pounding, fingers raking through your hair like they could somehow untangle the mess you’d just made.

“Whoa, you good?”

You looked up and nearly ran straight into Heeseung.

Perfect.

Just perfect.

He looked at you, one brow raised, concern etched across his features. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

You opened your mouth, but your voice came out weird and high-pitched. “I’m fine.”

“Really?” he asked. “I saw you drag Jungwon outside. Thought you were gonna kill him.”

You forced a nod, your heart now beating even faster. Like it was trying to launch itself straight out of your ribcage. “Yeah. Totally fine.”

You tried to brush past him. “Anyway, I should get back to—”

��Wait.” He stepped in front of you gently, blocking your path. “You sure you're okay?”

“I said I’m—” You turned away, flustered, and ran a hand through your hair again, this time tugging a little at the roots. “God. This day is just—stupid.”

“You don’t get like this,” he said. “Not unless something actually gets to you. So are you sure you’re okay?”

You stilled before nodding again.

He watched you for another moment, like he was trying to read between the lines.

“Then… can I ask something?”

You hesitated. “Uh—sure?”

He didn’t look away from you. Didn’t even blink.

“This guy…” Heeseung said quietly. “The one you’ve been writing about. If it’s not Jungwon… then is it someone I know?”

Your brain short-circuited.

“What?” you asked, like maybe if you pretended not to hear him, this wouldn’t be happening.

But Heeseung just looked at you. Really looked at you. And in that second, you could see it—he knew. Of course he did.

He wasn’t dumb. He noticed things. The way your voice shifted when you talked to him. The way you hovered around his desk longer than necessary. The way you went quiet every time he joked about dating someone. The way you scribbled the same damn line in your notebook like your brain couldn’t let it go.

And now he was standing there, trying to be kind about it. He was trying to let you down easy. Just like how he did with those random girls.

He even smiled, just a little, just enough to soften the edges of what was coming. “Is it–”

“It’s me.”

Your head snapped toward the voice.

Jungwon.

“She likes me,” he repeated, like he was confirming a fact. “Didn’t you hear the rumor?”

Heeseung blinked, all the softness in his expression flickering into confusion. “Yeah, I heard. But… isn’t it an unfounded rumor?”

Jungwon pushed off the wall and stepped closer. “Well, it’s founded now.”

He looked at Heeseung, then at you. “She likes me.”

The way Jungwon looked at you. And for a second, you understood. And for the first time since this whole disaster started… he was trying to help you. So you nodded.

It was barely a movement, just a small dip of your chin. But Jungwon caught it. And something softened in his expression.

Tears pricked at your eyes, not from anything anyone had said, but from the rejection that hadn’t even come. From the moment you realized Heeseung had been preparing to let you down gently, and you’d beat him to it with a lie.

You turned your gaze toward Jungwon, voice quiet and raw.

“I lied before,” you said. “I like Jungwon.”

That caught Heeseung off guard. He blinked, his brows drawing together. “Hm?”

You couldn’t look at him anymore.

“We just… finished having a little chat, y’know?” Jungwon stepped in smoothly, voice light. “And we decided to give things a try.”

You didn’t speak.

You couldn’t.

Because now you were standing in a lie of your own making, held up only by Jungwon’s unexpected kindness. And somewhere deep down, it hurt more than if Heeseung had just said no.

You couldn’t look up at Heeseung.

You wanted to. You wanted to explain, to laugh it off, to make the world rewind ten minutes—but you couldn’t. You could only look at Jungwon. The boy you hated. The boy who annoyed you more than anyone else on Earth.

But right now?

He was your only hope.

And then you felt it.

His hand, slowly sliding into yours, warm and solid. His other arm came around your shoulder, holding you just enough to make it look real.

You looked up at him, your back fully turned to Heeseung now, and mouthed, “Get me out of here.”

Jungwon’s fingers tightened around yours.

And for the first time since you'd met him, you saw something completely unfamiliar in his face. Just a quiet seriousness in the way he nodded. Like he understood. Like he knew exactly how badly this was hurting you.

He cleared his throat and looked back at Heeseung.

“Sorry, bro,” Jungwon said. “If it’s okay with you… I really need to tell her something in private. We haven’t really fine-tuned the specifics of our new relationship, so…”

He let the words trail off with a shrug, like this was nothing.

Heeseung blinked, then nodded slowly.

“Yeah. Sure,” he said, and his voice was quieter now. Then, even softer, “You’re okay?”

“Mhm,” you managed, your voice barely there. “I am.”

“Good.”

You just let Jungwon lead you down the hall, your fingers still laced in his.

You were still crying, your face buried in the front of your mortal enemy’s uniform, and your fists clenched weakly into the fabric like you didn’t know where else to hold on. Your body trembled from the sobs you couldn’t seem to swallow, and it was humiliating in the kind of way that burned. But you couldn’t stop. Couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t believe you were falling apart like this in front of him.

And yet, there was Jungwon.

He didn’t say much. He didn’t tease, didn’t laugh, didn’t pull away like he normally would’ve if this had happened on any other day in any other world. He just stood there, arm wrapped around your shoulders, hand patting your back with the kind of clumsy way that said he had absolutely no idea what he was doing but he was doing it anyway. Slowly, his palm flattened, movements gentler, slower, as if he finally knew how to comfort you. His fingers brushed circles along your spine, and for some reason, it didn’t feel wrong. It didn’t feel like it was him.

You hiccupped between sobs, your voice muffled against his shirt. “I hate this.”

“I know,” he said softly, and you hated how kind his voice sounded.

“I hate you,” you added, almost out of reflex, the words heavy and desperate and stupid.

That made him snort, and you felt the faintest rise of his chest with it. “You’re the one sobbing into me, not the other way around.”

You weakly punched his chest with the side of your fist, not even enough force to matter. “Shut up.”

Eventually, the tears stopped.

Not all at once, but slowly. Like your body had run out of grief for the moment and was now just tired. The shaking eased. Your breathing slowed. The front of Jungwon’s shirt was slightly damp where your face had been, and the realization of that sent a fresh wave of embarrassment crawling up your spine.

You pulled back just enough to wipe at your eyes with the sleeves of your uniform, not looking at him. His arm was still around your shoulder, though he loosened it a little like he wasn’t sure if it was still needed. He didn’t say anything right away. He gave you space to gather yourself.

Then you cleared your throat, “How bout that weather…”

“You really don’t like talking about your feelings.”

“Not to you.” You said.

“Right…” He nodded.

Then he was quiet again, like he was letting you bask in the silence.

“You know,” he said slowly, resting his chin on his hand, “now it’s starting to make a little more sense.”

“What is?” you asked, wary.

He shrugged. “Y’know… the way you brighten up when Heeseung walks into the classroom—”

You narrowed your eyes. “Are you actively trying to push me down a slippery slope right now?”

“No but if it helps,” he added, “I think you handled it way better than I would’ve.”

You didn’t really speak to Jungwon for the rest of the day.

Not because you were mad at him. Not even because things were awkward. You just figured he’d already done enough for you. The least you could do was give him some space. Let him sit at his desk, laugh at whatever Ni-ki was whispering beside him, and pretend today had been normal.

But it was hard.

It was hard not to think about it when Lee Heeseung was sitting directly in front of you…existing.

You stared at the back of his head, trying to focus on anything else. The clock ticking too slow. The corner of your worksheet. The pen cap between your fingers. Anything.

And then it happened.

Another wave of emotion.

You felt it build in your chest rising fast, sharp and hot, wrapping around your lungs until it was hard to breathe. A quiet whimper slipped out before you could stop it. You slapped a hand over your mouth, eyes wide, panic rising.

Heeseung started to turn in his seat, halfway twisting to check on you. “Hey, are you—?”

You stood up abruptly.

Didn’t answer. Didn’t look at him. Just walked fast, unsteady, as you made your way across the classroom. Jungwon was at the back, hunched over his notebook, laughing at something Ni-ki had drawn in the margins.

You stopped beside his desk, eyes already glassy. He turned, mid-laugh, only to freeze when he saw your face. The smile fell. His eyes darted to your hands, then your face again, immediately reading the panic.

His chair scraped back as he stood.

“What’s wrong?” he asked quietly, voice lower now.

You swallowed hard. “I felt emotion.”

He blinked. “That’s… great?”

“Negative emotion,” you clarified, your voice barely holding steady.

“Oh.”

He didn’t say anything else. Just stepped around his chair and gently took your wrist, guiding you away from the rows of desks, past curious glances and hushed whispers. You felt Ni-ki’s eyes follow you as Jungwon pulled you toward the door.

“Come on,” he murmured.

And you followed.

Because even though he was the last person you ever imagined seeking comfort from…

He was the only one who actually knew what to do with you.

Jungwon didn’t say a word as he led you up the stairs, his grip on your wrist light but steady.

You just followed…past the classroom door, past curious stares, past whatever thoughts were trying to claw their way into your head. Up one flight of stairs, then another. The world narrowed to the sound of your footsteps and the quiet hum of the building.

When he pushed open the rooftop door, the breeze hit you first. You stepped out slowly, blinking at the sudden wash of sunlight, and Jungwon finally let go of your wrist. He walked ahead a few steps, then turned and sat on the short concrete ledge that wrapped around the rooftop’s edge. His shoulders relaxed, his usual energy fading into something quieter as he glanced toward the sky. For once, he didn’t fill the silence with teasing.

You stood there for a second, arms crossed over your chest, not sure if the tightness in your throat was going to come back or not.

Then you let out a breath and walked over to sit beside him.

He didn’t look at you. Just kept his eyes on the sky, one leg bouncing slightly against the ledge, like he was giving you space to start first—if you wanted to.

“I didn’t mean to cry,” you said eventually.

“Well…you’re processing all of this in just one day so I figured…you wouldn’t be too…okay.”

You turned to look at him. He was still facing forward, but there was something in the set of his jaw, the way his hands were folded loosely in his lap that told you he wasn’t brushing this off. He was listening.

After a moment, he tilted his head and finally looked at you.

“I get why you didn’t tell him,” he said. “Heeseung.”

Your shoulders tensed. “Do you?”

“Yeah.” He shrugged. “You didn’t want to ruin the thing you had. You liked the version of him that didn’t know. It was safer.”

You blinked.

He wasn’t wrong.

You looked down at your hands. “Is that stupid?”

“No,” he said. “You’re a good person.”

You didn’t know what to say to that. You weren’t used to Jungwon being serious. You weren’t used to anyone being this gentle with you when you were messy and falling apart. You opened your mouth to say something but your voice didn’t come out.

Instead, you just sat there, next to the boy you hated. The boy who pretended to be your 2 minute boyfriend for the sake of your dignity.

The wind picked up slightly, tousling your hair as you stared down at your hands, the silence between you and Jungwon finally feeling a little less heavy.

You didn’t expect it when he said, “Do you want a hug?”

You looked up, surprised. “What?”

He shifted a little, clearly second-guessing himself now that the words were out. “You know. Like—just if it helps. People do that. In sad movies and stuff.”

You gave him a look. “Are you insane? Why would I hug you?”

“Well… I’m sorry for offering one! I thought girls liked it—I watched a movie—”

“If I hug you, will you shut up?” you cut in, glaring.

“No. Now I don’t want to hug you anymore,” Jungwon said, crossing his arms.

“Oh please. You’re such a child.”

“Oh, I’m the child?” he scoffed. “Just accept the warm embrace of an acquaintance trying to help you.”

“Gross.”

“Oh, real mature,” he snapped.

“I’ll have you know I am mature,” you replied, poking a finger into his arm.

“Oh really?” he shot back. “Crying over someone and then not being brave enough to hug your mortal enemy who’s been helping you sounds super mature.”

Your eyes narrowed. “I am mature.”

“Prove it.”

“I will!”

“Go ahead, then!”

You stepped forward, arms raised like a dare. “Look. I’ll hug you right now!”

And just as you lunged forward—arms out, dramatically wrapping around Jungwon in the most half-committed, competitive embrace of all time—

“HEY!”

You both froze mid-hug, heads turning slowly toward the rooftop door where the school security guard was now standing, arms crossed and judgment fully loaded.

Jungwon's arms were still halfway around you. Your face was about three inches from his shoulder. Neither of you moved.

“You two!” the guard shouted. “You think I don’t see you?! This is a school, not a honeymoon!”

You jumped back so fast you nearly tripped over your own feet.

“Wait—no—we weren’t—!” you yelped.

“We don’t even like each other like that!” Jungwon added quickly, already putting space between you two like it would erase the entire situation.

The guard squinted. “Uh-huh. Down the stairs. Now.”

“But we didn’t even—”

“Go!”

You opened the door to your house and stepped inside, already dreading what fresh embarrassment awaited you. Kicking your shoes off at the door, you called out automatically, “I’m home!”

From the kitchen came your mom’s voice, loud and cheerful: “Did Heeseung come today?”

Your soul left your body.

“No,” you called back, grimacing. “I… brought another friend though.”

The word friend felt foreign and uncomfortable in your mouth. It sounded wrong.

Behind you, Jungwon stepped in, hands in his pockets, looking around curiously like he was touring a museum. His eyes skimmed over the hallway, the furniture, the wall of framed photos—until one in particular made him pause.

“Cute,” he said, pointing at a picture hung slightly crooked on the wall.

You turned your head.

It was you. Age six. Dressed in mismatched pajamas, standing in the backyard with a watermelon slice in both hands and two missing front teeth.

You groaned, already regretting everything about this.

Jungwon turned to you, grinning like he’d just discovered a secret.

“Don’t.”

“But it’s so cute.”

“I will push you down the stairs.”

Then your mom appeared in the hallway, wiping her hands on a dish towel. “Oh! Is this him?” she beamed.

You didn’t even have time to introduce him before Jungwon stepped forward with a charming smile and said, “Hi Auntie, I’m Jungwon. It’s really nice to meet you.”

Instead, your mom smiled like she’d just met her future son-in-law and said, “Jungwon? The Yang Jungwon? My daughter talks about you all the time.”

Jungwon smirked, “She does? Good things, I hope.”

Your mom paused, visibly digging through memories.

“Well,” she said, thoughtfully, “he doesn’t look anything like you described.”

Your stomach dropped. “Mom.”

Jungwon tilted his head, curious. “Oh? How did she describe me?”

Your mom smiled warmly, like this was the most innocent conversation in the world. “Do you know that green monster? It’s this cartoon she used to love? What’s it called… Shrill…Shr…Shrek?”

Jungwon’s smile froze.

“Shrek?”

Your mom nodded, completely sincere. “Yes! But I don’t see it. You’re very handsome.”

Jungwon turned to you, eyebrows raised. “You think I look like Shrek?”

You stared at the ceiling, wishing for divine intervention. “Well. Are you forgetting that I hate you or–”

“Sweetheart,” your mom interjected, “we do not hate.”

You sighed. “You didn’t let me finish. I meant to say I don’t hate him anymore.”

Jungwon blinked. “Anymore?”

Your mom raised an eyebrow. “Wasn’t it just yesterday that you said you wanted to boil him alive?”

“Oh wow,” Jungwon muttered. “That’s awfully graphic.”

You gave her a look. “A day can change someone’s opinion.”

Your mom ignored you, looking over to Jungwon and beamed. “Would you like some oranges?”

You stood up immediately. “He’s probably busy, I’m walking him out.”

“Stay for dinner!” she called.

“She’s gonna kill me,” Jungwon whispered.

“Not on my watch,” your mom said, standing in front of the doorway like a tiny but terrifying general. “Stay for dinner. This is a demand.”

Jungwon blinked. “Okay.”

He nodded obediently, already kicking his shoes off. You stared at him, betrayed by the switch up. He looked over his shoulder and smiled at you.

You glared. You knew he was enjoying this.

Ten minutes later, you were upstairs, towel in hand, trying to mentally detach yourself from the fact that Jungwon was in your kitchen. With your mom. Bonding.

You could still hear them through the floor vents.

The occasional “Oh, she did what?” from Jungwon that made you slam your door shut just a little louder than necessary.

Downstairs, Jungwon stood at the counter beside your mom, sleeves rolled up as he helped slice vegetables for dinner. It was strangely peaceful.

“She’s stubborn,” your mom said as she chopped green onions with practiced precision. “She gets it from her father.”

“Oh yeah,” Jungwon replied with a smirk. “She once refused to do group work unless we let her pick the team name.”

“She picked the name, didn’t she?”

“Friends 4ever. With the number four.’”

Your mom laughed.

“She’s a little difficult, you know,” she added, softer now. “Strong-willed. Always arguing.”

“She’s kind of like that at school, too,” he said. “Always trying to win every conversation. Gets dramatic about almost everything. Complains about anything.”

“But I guess…” he continued, glancing toward the stairs without meaning to, “she’s also the first person to offer you her charger when your phone’s dying. Or send you the notes even when you didn’t ask. She’ll grumble the whole time, but she’ll do it. Even if she claims she hates you.”

He paused. “She’s kind of… sweet. When no one’s watching.”

Your mom didn’t say anything, just quietly slid another cutting board toward him.

“And,” Jungwon said after a moment, his eyes flicking back to the tomatoes he was slicing, “she’s… really something.”

Your mom didn’t respond, just kept chopping, quiet and patient.

He kept going, almost like he was talking to himself now.

“She does this thing when she’s mad—flips her hair, real dramatic. It’s actually kind of funny. Like she’s about to fight someone. As if anyone could take her seriously.”

Your mom chuckled softly.

“And when she’s nervous,” Jungwon added, “she bites her finger. Not like the finer but just the nail. Like she doesn’t know she’s doing it which is probably why her nails are so brittle and short all the time.”

There was a small pause.

“And she has this smile,” he said, voice softer now, the rhythm of his chopping slowing. “It’s kinda crooked. Only shows on one side at first. And it only shows up when she thinks no one’s looking.”

He let out a quiet chuckle and shook his head.

“It’s cute.”

He didn’t even realize he’d said it.

Your mom didn’t say anything.

She just looked at him.

And for a split second, Jungwon realized he may have said a little too much.

But your mom just gave a small nod and turned back to her vegetables. She didn’t say anything, not then. Not about the way he’d talked about you. Not about the little smile that had curled at the corner of his mouth without him noticing.

She just let it sit there.

Like maybe, just maybe, she knew.

Because whether he realized it or not…

Jungwon liked you.

Dinner was a mistake.

Not because the food wasn’t good, your mom had gone all out, as usual, and Jungwon, the absolute traitor, had already complimented the soup three separate times.

No. The mistake was sitting down across from both of them like you were the guest of those roasts celebrities did.

“She used to cry if her rice was touching the sauce so we had to separate it far apart,” your mom said, setting a bowl in front of Jungwon.

“I did not,” you muttered, stabbing a piece of tofu.

“You definitely did,” your mom confirmed.

“That explains so much,” Jungwon said, barely holding in a laugh.

You rolled your eyes. “I was five.”

“She was five and dramatic,” your mom added, sitting down beside you.

“She’s still dramatic,” Jungwon said under his breath, just loud enough for you to hear.

You glared at him across the table. “I can literally throw this bowl at your head.”

“She says that, but she won’t,” he smirked. “Too soft.”

You narrowed your eyes. “I am not soft.”

“Oh really?” he grinned, leaning over the table slightly. “Say it again without pouting.”

“I’m not—!”

But before you could finish, he reached forward and pinched both of your cheeks at once, squishing your face together.

“You’re adorable,” he said in the most irritatingly smug voice you’d ever heard.

“Yang Jung–” You burst into laughter, batting his hands away while trying to keep a straight face. “Get off me!”

He sat back, grinning, while you glared at him through the tail end of your laughter.

And then it hit you, your mom had gone silent.

You both turned at the same time.

She was watching the two of you with her chin in her hand, smiling.

“What?” you and Jungwon said in unison.

She didn’t answer. Just smiled.

After helping your mom with the dishes, Jungwon stood by the door, sliding his shoes back on with the same efficiency he did everything else.

You hovered near the entryway, arms crossed lightly over your chest. The words were already building in your throat, but when they finally came out, they sounded more like a mumble.

“Thanks… for today.”

He looked up mid–shoelace knot, raising an eyebrow.

“You’re surprisingly fun to hang out with,” you added, slightly louder, refusing to make eye contact.

“Oh really now?” Jungwon grinned.

“I’m not repeating it.”

“Didn’t say you had to,” he said, pulling the knot tight and standing up with a sigh.

He glanced down at you, smile softer now. “Not gonna lie… I had fun today too.”

You nodded. “It was… a little dramatic. But fun. Even though half the day was me crying.”

“You’re taking today better than anyone would’ve,” he said.

“Well, yeah. Because I’m strong.” You smiled, baring your teeth just a little like it was part joke, part fact.

“You are,” he said without missing a beat. “You did really good today.”

You blinked. Your smile faded, just slightly, the air around you going a little still.

Because he wasn’t joking.

He wasn’t teasing, or playing, or waiting to say something sarcastic afterward.

And for some reason, that made your chest ache in a way that was hard to explain.

You nodded, looking down at your socks. “Right. Thanks.”

“It’s fine,” he said, rocking on his heels. “That’s what friends are for, right?”

“Friends?” you echoed. A slow, skeptical smile crept onto your face. “I’m friends with Yang Jungwon?”

He smirked. “Surprise, surprise. Turns out I’m actually real fun and a decent guy. The things you find out when your first love breaks your heart.”

Your smile dropped instantly into a frown.

He winced. “Too soon?”

“You think?” you deadpanned.

Jungwon laughed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Okay, fair. Poor timing.”

You shook your head, the edge of a reluctant smile tugging at your lips again despite yourself. “You’re unbelievable.”

“Still your friend, though,” he said, nudging your shoulder lightly with his own.

The next few days were… funny.

Suddenly, all eyes were on you and Jungwon. Whispered questions trailed behind you in the hallways. Side glances turned into straight-up stares. Were the two of you really dating? Was it serious? Were you holding hands after school or just walking next to each other by accident?

You didn’t bother answering. Neither did Jungwon.

Let them wonder.

And maybe that was the problem. Because you weren’t exactly doing anything to make it look less real.

You hung out with him more now. A lot more. Every lunch break, after eating with your usual group, you’d pick up your tray and walk over to his table like it was muscle memory. You’d sit beside him, sometimes across, depending on the day. And it never felt weird.

In fact, it felt... easy.

Your friends didn’t say much. They’d just exchange glances or smile knowingly as you wandered off with your tray, all of them clearly under the impression that the two of you were trying to date. Trying to “work it out.”

And you let them think that.

Maybe because correcting them would mean explaining how stupid your first heartbreak (if you could even call it that) felt.

And if you thought about it too hard, about how Jungwon always saved you a seat without asking, or how he passed you the parts of his lunch you liked without a word, or how he said things like "you look tired today" in a voice that made you feel seen.

You were sure you didn’t have any feelings for Jungwon. None. Whatsoever. The idea was laughable, really. Besides, you were still emotionally recuperating from your extremely inconvenient, mildly soul-crushing crush on Heeseung. It had been a whole month since the incident. You were healing. You were doing so much better now. You could even look at Heeseung and have a full conversation without tearing your eyelids off or biting your tongue in half. That was progress. Real, mature, adult-level progress.

And okay, so maybe you hung out with Jungwon a lot. And maybe he texted you dumb TikToks at 2 a.m. and maybe you always answered. And maybe you knew his favorite bubble tea order by heart now and maybe he always ate the cherry tomato from your lunch when you didn’t want it. But that didn’t mean anything.

Lunch was loud as usual, someone shouting across the cafeteria, trays clattering, a wave of laughter erupting from one of the far tables. You tuned most of it out as you made your way to the back, tray in hand, moving on autopilot.

You didn’t even ask if you could sit next to him anymore. You just did.

Jungwon was already mid-conversation with Ni-ki, hands moving as he animatedly reenacted something ridiculous like Sunoo falling down the stairs again. You set your tray down next to his, plopped into the seat, and sighed.

“Aw man, I forgot my banana milk.”

You didn’t expect anyone to answer. You hadn’t even meant to say it out loud.

But without missing a beat, Jungwon reached into the side pocket of his backpack, pulled out a packet of banana milk, and slid it across the table toward you, all while still talking to Ni-ki.

“Oh, yay!” You mumbled.

He just nodded like it was nothing, like this was routine, like he hadn’t just read your mind.

You opened the straw, eyes still on him, quietly puzzled.

Then he reached for the pair of disposable chopsticks sitting on your tray. Snapped them clean in one quick motion. Rubbed them together, precisely three times, just the way you did when you thought they felt too splintery.

Again, he didn’t say anything. Just broke the chopsticks and placed them neatly back on your tray before going back to his story.

And you were still sitting there, watching him.

Then came the final hit: your tonkatsu.

You hadn’t even started eating yet. Just poking at the rice absentmindedly, eyes wandering around the cafeteria while you waited for your brain to feel like food. But Jungwon, with his fork already halfway through his own meal, glanced at your tray and casually reached over with your knife cutting up your tonkatsu into neat little pieces before you even realized it.

He didn’t even look.

He just did it.

All while telling Ni-ki about how someone had nearly set the chem lab on fire.

You sat there, twiddling your thumbs, watching him work through your tray like he’d done it a hundred times before. Like it was muscle memory. Like it was natural.

And that was the moment it hit you.

He knew you.

Not just the surface-level stuff. Not just your favorite color or your star sign or your Instagram handle.

He knew how you liked your chopsticks. Knew your go-to drink without asking. Knew when you weren’t feeling hungry enough to start on your food, but still wanted it ready.

You didn’t even know when he started paying attention.

But he had.

You stared at him.

He looked up mid-sentence and blinked. “What?”

You shook your head quickly. “Nothing.”

It wasn’t supposed to turn into a routine.

But it did.

Ever since that one dinner at your house, Jungwon had started coming over. At first, once. Then again. Then twice a week. Now, it was just expected. Part of the schedule.

Your mom adored him. Naturally.

And somehow, your dad, who was barely home before 9 p.m. most days, knew him too. Not in the passing, handshake-and-small-talk kind of way. No. He knew him. Asked him about his classes. Invited him to stay for dessert. Offered him beer once. Jungwon declined politely, of course, but still. You weren’t sure your dad even knew your blood type, and yet he knew Jungwon’s college plans.

He was a crowd favorite in your house.

And he made himself at home like it was the most natural thing in the world.

He knew where everything went now. The moment you stepped into the entryway after school, he’d lean down, take your coat off your shoulders without being asked, and hang it by the door while placing his shoes neatly on the rack. Then he’d stroll into the kitchen to greet your mom with the same cheery “Hi, Auntie!” like he lived there.

He’d wait for you to finish showering..

And by the time you came out, hair damp, wrapped in your towel robe, your favorite show would already be playing on the living room TV. He’d set a hot cup of tea in front of the couch, carefully positioned at your usual spot. He never drank it himself. Just made it for you. Every time.

You never had to ask.

Then he’d return to the kitchen to help your mom with dinner, sleeves rolled up, chopping and washing and stirring like he belonged in that apron. You could hear them from the living room. Talking. Giggling over some ridiculous story he’d tell about you at school. How you tripped over your own shoelaces in front of the vending machine. How you pretended to be allergic to gym just to avoid running.

Your mom loved it. Ate it all up.

And then came dinner.

He’d set the table without being asked. Laid out all your favorite dishes in front of your seat. Your favorite part of the chicken already on your plate—deboned. The kimchi snipped into bite-sized pieces with the kitchen scissors, just the way you liked it.

You sat down, glanced at your plate, and everything was already done.

He didn’t even sit until you did.

And you never asked him to do any of it.

He just did.

Like he'd been watching and learning you this whole time.

And it was easy, so, so easy to pretend it was normal.

But every now and then, while sipping your tea and watching him laugh with your family like he was part of it, you’d get this strange feeling in your chest.

Dinner was normal. Jungwon was helping your dad refill side dishes, your mom was happily recounting a story from her work, and you were comfortably tucked into the rhythm of your usual meal. For a while, everything felt good.

Until, mid-bite, your mom looked up and said, “By the way, sweetheart… how’s Heeseung?”

You froze.

It wasn’t even a pointed question. Just a casual thought, dropped innocently into the center of the table like it wasn’t going to crack everything open.

She laughed a little, smiling to herself. “I still remember how the two of you kept saying you’d marry each other when you grew up. Now I rarely see him.” She sighed, fond and wistful. “Kids grow up so fast, huh, dear?”

Your dad chuckled, nodding in agreement. “Ah, well. He’s a smart boy. Probably busy studying.”

You nodded, careful to keep your voice light. “Yeah. I’ll ask him to come over with the others next time they’re free.”

“Oh, please do,” your mom said. “I miss them.”

You nodded again, forcing a smile, trying to say all the right things because that’s what you did.

But then your eyes drifted across the table.

To Jungwon.

He was quietly playing with a piece of chicken on his plate. Not eating. Not listening.

Just moving it around like it didn’t matter.

Like he didn’t want to be there.

And it bothered you.

“Won,” you said softly, “you okay?”

He looked up quickly, blinking like you’d snapped him out of something. His expression didn’t falter, not even for a second. A smile appeared right on cue—bright, easy.

“Yeah,” he said, voice smooth. “I’m good!”

Then, without missing a beat, he popped the chicken into his mouth and turned to your dad with a question about soccer, like the moment had never happened.

Like he hadn’t just gone completely silent.

Like the name Heeseung hadn’t changed the entire air around him.

You stared for a moment longer, something tight curling in your stomach.

He was acting normal.

And that was the most unconvincing part of all.

You were laying on your stomach, sprawled across your bed like roadkill, head buried halfway into your pillow and the corners of your math textbook stabbing your ribs. The numbers blurred in and out of focus. Functions, graphs, equations, you were pretty sure none of this was going to help you in your actual future unless you somehow grew up to become a calculator.

“This is actual torture,” you groaned.

Jungwon, who had been spinning gently in your roller chair like he lived there, snorted. “Oh, c’mon. There’s literally two more questions.”

“That’s two more than I want to do,” you grumbled.

He rolled over beside you and reached out to poke your side, right where he knew you were ticklish. You flinched with a squeak, kicking your leg back without looking.

“Fine!” you whined dramatically, lifting your head just enough to glare at the textbook. “But I genuinely think they should’ve used math for death row instead of the guillotine.”

Jungwon just laughed and started reading out the next question aloud, voice low and casual. He mumbled through the word problem, pausing here and there as he tried to figure it out, assuming you were listening.

But you weren’t.

Not really.

Because at some point, your eyes had drifted toward him and they hadn’t moved since.

You watched the way his lips moved around, soft and easy, every syllable deliberate. You noticed the way his eyebrows furrowed when he got stuck, how his eyes went wider when something clicked. How he bit his lip when he was trying to remember a formula. How he licked the corner of his mouth absentmindedly when he was really thinking.

You blinked.

And then blinked again.

Because suddenly you were no longer hearing anything he was saying.

Instead, all you could think about was how close he was. How warm his voice was. How much you wanted to lean forward and—

Your heart stuttered. You blinked hard and sat up a little too quickly, grabbing your pencil like it was some sort of emotional grounding stick.

Did you just—?

Were you actually just thinking about kissing Jungwon? Yang Jungwon.

You stared at your textbook in horror, the numbers looking even worse now.

You were in trouble.

“Okay, seriously,” Jungwon sighed, dragging his chair closer. “You’re just not listening at this point.”

“I am listening,” you lied, gripping your pencil tightly.

“You’ve been stuck on the same question for more than five minutes.”

You blinked at him, heart still racing from your earlier thoughts. “Well, maybe if math was as interesting as, I don’t know, literally anything else—”

“Okay, that’s it,” he muttered, rolling his chair right up to your bedside and leaning over your textbook. “Come here. I’m showing you.”

Before you could protest, he was right there, sliding the textbook toward both of you, one hand pressed casually beside your arm, the other using his pen to point at the equation. His voice was low, focused.

“So here, this part,” he said, tapping the numbers, “you just need to factor this term and then move it to the other side.”

You tried to follow.

You really did.

But your brain had fully abandoned you. All you could focus on was how close he was. The warm brush of his arm against yours. The subtle scent of his shampoo—something citrusy and soft. His lips moved just inches from your face, forming words you couldn’t process. His eyelashes flicked downward, dark and long, as he concentrated.

And then he paused, glancing up when he noticed your lack of response.

“Are you even—”

He turned to look at you.

And you were already looking at him.

The movement brought your faces dangerously close, just an inch between your mouths. Close enough to feel his breath catch. Close enough to notice the way his lips parted slightly in surprise. Close enough that if either of you tilted just a little, you’d be kissing.

Everything around you faded, the ticking of your clock, the noise outside, the textbook lying open and ignored between you.

He didn’t move.

Neither did you.

The space between you was impossibly small—an inch, maybe less. You could feel the warmth of his breath against your lips. Your heart thudded so loudly you were convinced he could hear it. He wasn’t smiling anymore. Neither were you.

Jungwon’s eyes dropped briefly to your mouth.

Your breath hitched.

And then, softly, gently his hand came up, brushing a loose strand of hair behind your ear. His fingers lingered at your jaw, featherlight.

“Would it be stupid if I kissed you?” he asked, voice barely above a whisper.

Your throat tightened.You shook your head.

He leaned in the tiniest bit, like the air between you was magnetic, like maybe you were already meeting halfway—

Knock knock knock

“My love, I cut some oranges!”

You both flinched, violently.

You practically fell off the bed. Jungwon shot back in his chair so fast it nearly rolled into the wall.

There was a beat of stunned silence.

Then your mom’s voice called again, cheerful and oblivious: “Should I bring them in?”

“No!” you and Jungwon shouted at the same time.

Another beat of silence.

“…Okay, then,” she replied, still chipper, her footsteps padding back down the hallway.

You stared at the floor, heart hammering, trying to remember how to breathe.

Jungwon cleared his throat.

You still couldn’t look at him.

He still wasn’t looking at you.

Neither of you spoke.

You just turned back to the math textbook.

But suddenly, you couldn’t remember what the question was anymore.

Jungwon was the first to move.

Fast.

Too fast.

He stood up abruptly, muttering something about homework and his mom probably texting him. He was already grabbing his bag, already rolling his sleeves back down, already not looking at you.

You blinked.

He didn’t even say goodbye.

Just a quick, “See you tomorrow,” tossed over his shoulder like it meant nothing. Like you weren’t both still sitting in the ruins of something that almost happened.

And then the door shut behind him.

The next day at school, neither of you said a word.

You saw him across the courtyard that morning, maybe thirty feet away. Normally, you would’ve walked beside him, bumped shoulders, made some snarky comment about his bed hair. But today?

You turned the other way.

By the time Math class rolled around, your nerves were already shot.

You walked into the classroom a few minutes early, automatically glancing toward his seat.

Empty.

Good.

You sat down, keeping your eyes locked on your desk. Your stomach felt weird.

Jungwon came in two minutes later, quietly slipping into his seat like a ghost. Not a single glance in your direction. Not even the usual eye-roll or quiet hey.

You didn't look at him either.

Not once.

And then the teacher began going through the homework questions.

“Alright,” she said, tapping her marker against the whiteboard. “Now for question eight. Let’s go over this together. Anyone want to walk me through it?”

Your eyes dropped to your open textbook.

There it was.

Question eight.

The one he was explaining. The one you weren’t listening to. The one you didn’t hear a single word of because you were too busy staring at his mouth and imagining something that never happened.

“I need to go to the bathroom!”

Both of you said it at the exact same time.

The entire class turned.

Even the teacher paused, marker still in hand, eyebrows rising slowly.

You didn’t dare look at him. Not directly. But out of the corner of your eye, you could see Jungwon frozen mid-shuffle, eyes slightly wide, caught in the same panic as you.

A beat of silence passed.

“...Is there something wrong with the school water?” your teacher asked dryly.

No one laughed.

No one said anything.

You both stood there like two idiots sharing one brain cell, equally horrified that you’d spoken in sync, equally determined not to explain why.

“Fine,” your teacher sighed after a moment and then waved her hand. “Go.”

You didn’t wait.

The next thing you knew, you both bolted out of the room like you were fleeing a crime scene.

You kept walking. He kept walking. Until finally, both of you turned a corner—empty corridor, cold tile, no witnesses.

“We need to talk.”

Jungwon was the first to speak, voice quiet but steady.

You shifted your weight, eyes flicking away. “About what?”

He raised an eyebrow. “You know what.”

You crossed your arms. “We don’t have to talk about it.”

“I do,” he said, firmer this time. “I don’t know about you, but you’ve become a routine to me. So I can’t possibly pretend nothing’s wrong. Because it’ll feel weird if I can’t… do things for you. If I can’t be next to you.”

You blinked, throat tightening. “Jungwon—school barely started.”

“And we didn’t even go into class together.”

His voice cracked just slightly at the end.

You finally looked at him.

He wasn’t mad. He wasn’t even pushing. He just looked... lost. Like he didn’t know where to put any of this.

“I didn’t know if I should say hi,” he added quietly. “I didn’t know if I should sit next to you. If I should look at you. And that’s the part that freaked me out the most.”

“Look,” Jungwon said, his voice lower now, more careful. “We can pretend it didn’t happen last night.”

You blinked at him, heart stalling.

“Like we didn’t almost kiss,” he added, like saying it out loud might make it less real. “If it makes you feel better.”

You stayed quiet.

Not because you didn’t have anything to say.

But because you didn’t know how to say it. Because the word almost hit harder than it should’ve. Because it hadn’t happened but it almost did. And that almost felt like a confession in its own right.

Jungwon rubbed the back of his neck. “It’s fine. I mean—it was late. We were tired. You were upset. It’s probably better we didn’t—”

“Don’t,” you said suddenly.

He froze. “Don’t what?”

“Don’t try to explain it away like it didn’t mean anything.”

He looked at you then. Really looked. And for a second, neither of you breathed.

“I’m not saying it meant something,” you added quickly, heart pounding now. “I’m just saying… don’t pretend like it didn’t almost…happen..”

Jungwon swallowed hard. Nodded once. “Then…should we talk about it?”

You were about to nod–

“Hey,” Heeseung’s voice called out, casual and bright, like he hadn’t just stepped straight into the middle of something fragile. “You ready to head to the next class?”

You jolted upright. Your body moved before your mind could catch up. The sudden intrusion cracked the moment like glass underfoot. Jungwon stiffened beside you, his eyes flicking to Heeseung, then back to you.

He didn’t say anything.

Didn’t smile.

Didn’t offer even a quiet “see you later.”

Something in him shifted. A flicker of hesitation. A wall going up too fast to stop. You weren’t sure what it was, not exactly but it made your stomach twist, cold and tight. He just looked at you, a beat too long, like he was deciding whether or not to say something. And then he didn’t. He turned and walked away.

But just before he rounded the corner, he looked back.

That one glance hit harder than anything else he could’ve done. You met his eyes. For half a second, neither of you blinked.

Then you shook your head.

And you followed Heeseung.

He didn’t seem to notice at first. Just walked next to you, casual as always, your shoulder brushing his in the way it used to feel comforting. Today it felt like pressure.

It was silent for a while. Then, gently, Heeseung asked, “Are you okay?”

Your throat tightened. The honest answer formed before you could lie.

“No,” you said, quiet and shaky.

He stopped walking. Turned to face you fully, brows furrowed now. “Does this have something to do with… Jungwon?”

You didn’t answer immediately. You couldn’t. There was a sharp sting in your chest. A lump in your throat you couldn’t seem to swallow down. Because it wasn’t just the almost-kiss or the silence or the way he couldn’t look at you in class. It was the fact that you didn’t want to pretend anymore. And it was terrifying.

You nodded.

Just once.

And suddenly the hallway felt too long, and your next class felt impossibly far away, and your heart… didn’t know what to do with itself anymore.

Jungwon shouldn’t have looked back.

He knew it the second he did, that one glance over his shoulder felt like walking into the very thing he was trying to leave behind. But he looked anyway.

And there you were. Standing beside Heeseung. Nodding. Following.

Not him.

Jungwon’s jaw clenched. He turned back around quickly, the hallway ahead of him blurring around the edges. He didn’t know what he’d been hoping to see. That you’d hesitate? That you’d stop? That maybe you’d chase him?

But you didn’t.

He shoved his hands into his pockets, trying to breathe through the pressure that had started building in his chest. It was stupid. All of it. You weren’t even dating. The fake thing had never meant to go this far.

Except.

He was ready.

Or at least, he had been right up until Heeseung showed up and you nodded like he was the one you wanted to follow. Like he was still the center of your universe, even after everything. And now Jungwon wasn’t sure if he was more mad at himself… or at the situation.

Because if he hadn’t hesitated last night…

If he’d just kissed you…

Would you still have walked away?

You stopped walking.

Just like that, your feet rooted themselves to the floor.

“I like him,” you murmured, so low it felt more like an admission to yourself than anyone else.

Heeseung turned back instantly, confused. “What?”

Your eyes were fixed on the floor now. You didn’t move, didn’t blink. Your voice was steadier the second time, but your heart pounded so loud you could barely hear yourself speak.

“I like Jungwon.”

Heeseung stared at you. There was no shock in his expression, not really.

“Yeah,” he said gently, nodding once. “I know. I thought we cleared that up.”

You shook your head. “No. Heeseung, you don’t get it.”

You looked up, finally meeting his eyes.

“I really like him.”

The words were soft.

“I was pretending at first—like it was funny, like it was just to get past the whole thing with you, or the rumor, or whatever. And I told myself it didn’t mean anything. I kept saying it didn’t. But now…” You paused, your voice catching in your throat.

“Now I don’t think I’m pretending anymore,” you whispered. “I think I actually… really do like him.”

The hallway was quiet.

So quiet, it almost scared you.

Heeseung didn’t say anything at first. He just stood there, letting the weight of your words settle between you. And then, very softly, he exhaled.

You looked down, your throat tight.

“He probably needs to hear it, too.”

You hesitated. “What if—”

“If you keep thinking about what ifs instead of doing something about it,” he interrupted gently, but firmly, “then nothing’s ever going to come out of it.”

“You’ve been brave for other people before,” he added, watching you closely. “Try being brave for yourself this time.”

That broke something in you.

Your heart clenched, your feet already itching to move. Because he was right. Because this wasn’t about timing anymore, it was about trying.

You met his eyes.

And then you ran.

Your shoes hit the floor hard as you bolted down the corridor, barely registering the blur of students and teachers around you. You didn’t know what you were going to say. You didn’t have a speech. You just knew you had to find him.

You checked his next class first, flinging the door open with more force than necessary. A few students looked up. The teacher hadn’t arrived yet. But Jungwon wasn’t there.

“Have you seen Jungwon?” you asked, eyes wide, voice tight. The girl closest to the door shook her head, confused, and that was all you needed to be gone again.

You searched the cafeteria—empty. The courtyard—quiet. The stairwell, the science wing, even the vending machines by the old lockers. Nowhere.

He wasn’t anywhere.

Finally, you reached the rooftop. Your last hope.

You pushed open the door so hard it banged against the wall with a clang that echoed across the open space.

But no one answered.

The wind rushed past your ears as you stepped forward slowly, chest heaving.

The rooftop was empty.

You stood alone on the rooftop, surrounded by silence and cold metal railings, your breath forming quick clouds in the crisp afternoon air. Your fingers curled tightly into fists at your sides, nails digging into your palms as you tried to swallow down the frustration bubbling in your chest.

"God," you muttered under your breath, voice cracking at the edges. Your hand shot up, dragging through your hair with shaky frustration. The wind whipped around you, rustling your sleeves and your thoughts and every shaky breath you couldn’t get under control.

Without thinking, you turned toward the nearest thing, an old dented metal trash can by the wall and kicked it as hard as you could.

And then—

“...Woah, woah, woah, you okay?”

Your body froze mid-breath. Your heart stopped, then slammed against your ribs with dizzying force.

Slowly, you turned.

And there he was.

Jungwon.

Standing in the doorway like he’d just stumbled into the middle of your breakdown. His hand still rested on the handle, backpack slung over one shoulder, eyes wide. He looked caught, unsure, surprised. Like he wasn’t sure if he should take a step closer or stay exactly where he was.

Your eyes locked.

Neither of you moved.

Your hands hung at your sides, fingers twitching with adrenaline. His brows were slightly furrowed, like he wanted to say something but didn’t know how.

And something inside you snapped.

Your feet hit the ground hard as you ran toward him, closing the distance in seconds. His eyes widened again, but he didn’t move. He didn’t flinch.

You reached up, grabbing the front of his hoodie with both hands and pulled him down to you. Your breath was uneven. His eyes searched yours for only a second before you leaned in, closing the space, and kissed him.

Then he kissed you back.

His hands came up one finding your waist, the other cupping the side of your face, his thumb brushing just beneath your jaw. His grip was gentle, but grounding. Like he’d been holding back for far too long. Like this was the thing that had been waiting between you for weeks, quietly demanding to be acknowledged.

“Damn,” he said. “So you like me.”

You pulled back just enough to look at him.

“What?”

His lips curved.

Your face twisted in mock offense, eyes narrowing as you pulled back slightly to look at him properly. “Oh, you wanna play that game?”

His grin widened, cocky and boyish.

“I’m pretty sure you’ve had a crush on me even before I did,” you said, crossing your arms even as your smile betrayed you.

Jungwon blinked, deadpan. “You’re not wrong.”

His expression contorted for half a second, like admitting it physically hurt, then melted into something a little sheepish, a little too real.

“Isn’t it obvious?” he muttered, dragging a hand down his face.

“Obvious to who, exactly?”

He exhaled like it was the most dramatic moment of his life. “Who do you think I’ve been venting to about you for the past month?”

You paused.

Your smile faded into something wary. “Wait. Who?”

He looked at you.

You blinked, slowly putting two and two together.

Then your eyes widened in horror.

“No. No way.”

“She’s the only one who listened without judging me!”

“You’ve been telling my mom?! About your feelings?! For me?!”

And then it all made sense.

It was the night before.

Your mom was finishing up some dishes in the kitchen, and you’d just excused yourself to the bathroom, disappearing down the hallway.

Jungwon stayed where he was, sitting politely on the couch in the living room, hands clasped, trying not to look too out of place in a home that had started to feel painfully too familiar. He glanced toward the hallway once, then back at the TV that was playing some cooking show on mute. He didn’t expect your mom to come sit next to him.

But she did.

Not with her usual teasing smile or nosy aunt energy, this time, it was softer. Almost… concerned.

“Did I hurt you?” she asked suddenly, her voice gentle. “When I brought Heeseung up earlier?”

Jungwon blinked. “What?”

She smiled kindly, her eyes scanning his face. “You got quiet. I didn’t mean to make things awkward.”

“Oh. No,” he said quickly, shaking his head. “No! Never. I just… it wasn’t that.”

She looked at him knowingly. “You know… it doesn’t take a scientist to figure out that you like my daughter.”

Jungwon let out a quiet groan, dropping his face into his hands. “Is it that obvious?”

“Very,” she said with a laugh. “But the good thing is…my daughter is completely oblivious.”

He exhaled a helpless little laugh, dragging his hands down his face. “I don’t know how to make it more obvious if I tried, Auntie. I swear, I’ve done everything short of confessing.”

“Telling her wouldn’t kill you,” she teased, nudging his arm.

He gave her a small, sheepish smile. “I just… I figured she’s still got feelings for Heeseung.”

Your mom shook her head, eyes twinkling like she’d been waiting for this exact moment. “That’s where you’re wrong.”

“Am I?”

She turned toward him fully, folding her arms, her voice more certain now. “Do you really think I don’t know my own daughter? I’ve seen her with her friends. She’s never been like this with anyone.”

Jungwon raised his eyebrows slightly. “Like what?”

“Comfortable. Herself. She looks at you like you’re the only person in the world,” she said, matter-of-fact. “She lets her walls down around you. You don’t know how rare that is.”

Jungwon blinked. His throat tightened a little.

“And let me ask you something,” she said, leaning in like she was telling a secret. “Do you really think she wakes up at five in the morning to go grocery shopping with me just for fun?”

He frowned. “What?”

Your mom grinned. “She goes with me just to pick up ingredients for your favorite dishes and she prioritizes sleep more than anything in this world.”

“She does?”

“Every time you come over. You think it’s a coincidence we always happen to have your favorites? No, Jungwon. She picks them out.”

Jungwon stared at her, completely still.

“Oh.”

Your mom reached over and patted his hand gently, smiling. “You’re in deeper than you think, sweetheart.”

“Remember that day at your place… when I stayed for dinner the first time?”

You opened your eyes, looking up at him. “Yeah?”

“She told me,” Jungwon went on, his eyes crinkling, “that you wake up early to go grocery shopping with her before school. Just so you could cook the things I like for dinner.”

You blinked. Heat rushed to your cheeks.

“Honestly, I was still trying to figure out how to tell you I liked you,” he said, laughing softly, “while your mom was out here practically planning our wedding.”

Your mouth fell open slightly, words stuck in your throat.

He looked down at you. His gaze was steady, open, entirely unreadable in the way that meant it was everything all at once. “I’ve liked you since the beginning,” he said quietly, and this time he didn’t laugh. “Even when you said you hated me. Even when you swore you’d never like me back.”

“Wait,” you said slowly, voice barely above a whisper. “You’ve been crushing on me… this whole time?”

Jungwon tilted his head.

“Since the spelling bee,” he said, laughing.

You choked. “Fourth grade?!”

“Friendship,” he mimicked, grinning like the devil himself. “F–R–E–N–D–S–H–I–P.”

“You’re evil,” you said flatly, staring at him like you were trying to set him on fire with your mind.

“While we’re reminiscing,” Jungwon said, his voice tilting cocky again. “I guess I did end up taking your first kiss after all.”

You blinked.

And suddenly, the rooftop wasn’t cold anymore.

Your mind flashed back, months ago, during that stupid party, during that even stupider game of spin the bottle. You remembered the way the bottle had landed on you. The way he’d chuckled. The way he’d leaned in only to pause, shake his head, and say, “I can’t take her first kiss like this.”

Now, you looked at him again. Really looked.

“You could’ve just done it then,” you said, softer now. “Gotten it over with.”

He shrugged, almost shy. “Felt like it’d be unfair if your first kiss happened in some stupid spin-the-bottle game. In front of all those idiots.”

You searched his face, your voice barely above a whisper. “How are you so sure that was my first kiss?”

“Because,” he said quietly, “I knew you’d be mine.”

You blinked. “What?”

“Oh, come on,” he said, laughing softly. “You really think I’ve kissed someone?”

“Uh—yeah?”

He raised his eyebrows. “Do I look like I kiss random people at parties?”

You opened your mouth, then closed it again. He looked at you, all teasing faded now.

“I was saving it,” he said simply, like it wasn’t the most heart-stopping thing he’d ever confessed. “For someone special.”

And suddenly you weren’t breathing.

He looked back at you like it was obvious.

You reached for his hoodie again, your fingers twisting into the fabric without even thinking. “You’re an idiot,” you whispered.

His eyes crinkled, you tugged on the strings of his hoodie. Pulled him closer. Close enough to see the flutter in his lashes. Close enough that his breath hitched when your noses brushed.

And then you kissed him again.

His arms tightened around your waist immediately, pulling you in, deeper this time. It was slow and certain and everything that had been waiting between you for weeks—months, really. The rooftop wind curled around the two of you, but it didn’t matter. He was warm.

And then—

“Are you kidding me?! You two again?!”

You froze.

Jungwon jerked back so fast you almost stumbled.

You turned slowly, lips still tingling, and there he was—again.

The same security guard from the last time. Hands on his hips. Brow raised.

“Now I know for sure you’re kissing,” he said, squinting at both of you. “Don’t even try that hug excuse again.”

“We weren’t—” you started.

“It was windy,” Jungwon said quickly, brushing his hair out of his face. “And she almost fell—”

“Into your mouth?” the guard snapped.

You opened your mouth. Closed it.

Jungwon cleared his throat.

“Uh. We’re dating,” he finally said, sheepish, a little proud. “Officially. So.”

The guard narrowed his eyes, clearly unimpressed. “Congratulations. Now get off the rooftop before I call your principal.”

“Yes, sir,” you both muttered in unison, scrambling for your bags.

As you walked down the stairs side by side, shoulder bumping into his, you could feel your face burning. But when you looked up at Jungwon, he was smiling like it had all been worth it.

“We should’ve made out in the library,” he whispered.

“You’re the worst,” you muttered, shoving him lightly.

#im actually crying #that was so cute and for what

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