the air stilled, just for a second—just enough time for yeonjun to glance at heeseung from the corner of his eye. and there it was. that flicker of something. 
anger, jealousy, panic? maybe all three. it was so fast, almost too fast, but yeonjun saw it. and it satisfied him, that little tremor of doubt he had managed to plant in heeseung's mind.





but heeseung didn't flinch. he didn't even blink. outwardly, he seemed unfazed, his expression a perfect mask of disinterest, like yeonjun's words had barely registered. but inside? inside, heeseung was a mess.




are you fucking kidding me?





he could feel his pulse thudding in his ears, heat rising to his face, but he held it together, refusing to let even a sliver of emotion break through. yeonjun's words echoed in his head, louder, more insistent. go out with me. right in front of him, like he wasn't even there. like yeonjun didn't care that he was stepping into territory that wasn't his to claim.




heeseung's jaw tightened, his fingers twitching at his sides, but he kept his gaze steady, his breathing slow and measured. no way he was giving yeonjun the satisfaction of knowing he had hit a nerve. no way he was going to let him see just how much it hurt to stand there, to watch yeonjun make his move with that smug, easygoing smile. it felt like someone had lit a fire under his skin, burning hotter with every second that passed.




because this wasn't just about yuwon. this was about everything. every stolen glance, every secret smile, every late-night conversation that heeseung had shared with her, every touch, every dirty secret. 





it was about the way she looked at him when no one else was around, like he was someone worth knowing, worth understanding. he didn't just like yuwon—he needed her. she had become something more than a crush, more than a fling. she was part of him now, in ways he didn't fully understand yet.




and now yeonjun wanted to take that away.




heeseung bit down hard on the inside of his cheek, tasting blood. the pain was sharp, grounding him, keeping him from doing something stupid—like throwing a punch or telling yeonjun to back off. no, that wasn't how heeseung operated. he was smarter than that, more calculated. so, he stayed silent, standing just a little too still, eyes locked on yeonjun's as he waited for yuwon's answer.






but deep down, it was chaos. a storm brewing under the surface, violent and uncontrollable, threatening to tear him apart.






yuwon blinked, caught off guard by yeonjun's boldness. her laughter died in her throat, replaced by a sudden stillness. her gaze flickered between the two boys, a moment of hesitation shadowing her face. she could feel the weight of yeonjun's question lingering in the air, thick and heavy, suffocating in its own right. she wasn't dumb—she knew this was a game to him. but still, he was standing right in front of her, waiting for an answer.




say no, her mind screamed, but her lips wouldn't move. instead, she swallowed, glancing to the side, where heeseung stood. except, he wasn't looking at her. he didn't even flinch, his eyes fixed somewhere else, his jaw set like stone.




her heart stuttered in her chest, a wave of confusion and. . . something else—something almost painful—washing over her. why wasn't he looking at her? she needed him to look. to say something, anything. to give her the smallest sign that he cared. because despite everything, despite the years of keeping herself unattainable, despite the walls she'd built so carefully, it was heeseung who had slipped through the cracks.



 it was heeseung whose silence hurt the most.



but he didn't look.





her breath hitched in her throat, a quiet panic building behind her ribs. she didn't want to say yes—not really. it wasn't right—not to her, not to yeonjun, not to heeseung. but yeonjun was standing there, watching her, waiting for her to fall in line, and her mind was spinning, trying to make sense of the mess she was in. so, before she could stop herself, before she could think too much about it, the word slipped out.




"yeah. . . sure."





it came out barely above a whisper, reluctant, hesitant, like she wasn't fully there when she said it. and god, she regretted it the moment it left her lips. her eyes darted back to heeseung, silently pleading with him to meet her gaze, to tell her it was okay or to stop her—anything. but heeseung didn't budge, didn't flinch, didn't move. he stood there, like a statue, as if her answer hadn't just shattered something between them.





and suddenly, she felt sick.