Chapter Text
"It's been a year already!"
The words hit me like a lightning bolt. Heeseung leans against the doorway of our shared practice room, arms crossed, eyes fixed on me as if I have committed some unforgivable crime.
I freeze, blinking. "What are you talking about exactly?"
Heeseung scoffs. "Sunghoon… you and Sunoo. You have been texting him every single day for a whole year. Every. Single. Day. And you still haven’t done anything?
I rub the back of my neck, forcing myself to stay calm. "I thought I made myself clear. I don’t… like him that way. Sunoo and I—we are just… good friends. Nothing more"
I guess. The lie tastes bitter in my mouth.
Heeseung scoffs, unimpressed. "Good friends? Sunghoon, You text him all day, every day, and it’s not like you have that much free time, and him too with all the intense dance classes and competitions. Yet you always find time for each other, how can you tell yourself it’s nothing?"
I open my mouth, but only weakly manage, "I text to you too…" seriously Sunghoon.
Heeseung cuts me off, voice sharper. "Yeah, when it’s convenient. Like the last time your parents kicked you out and you needed a place to crash. That’s the last time you checked on me first, WAIT not the point…what I mean…" He’s right. And I hate it.
"What I mean is you care about him, clearly" Heeseung says softer now, but still firm. "Stop pretending you don’t."
I grab my jacket, trying to escape before my thoughts betray me. "I’m done talking about this. Are you coming or not?"
Heeseung stays still. "Not everyone is Minji, Sunghoon. You know that right?"
"I just want you to be happy" he continued.
Her name hits me like a fist to the chest, Minji. My past. My mistakes.
I stiffen, pretending not to hear. My hands ball into fists in my pockets as I walk out, shoulders tense. The night air feels sharp against my skin, but I barely notice. My mind drifts back—back to a year ago, back to the boy who has consumed my thoughts ever since.
Kim Sunoo.
I remember him standing on stage that night, quiet and reserved, but once the music hit, he was a storm—commanding, fearless, magnetic. My breath had caught, and I had not looked away once.
Sunoo was beautiful. Very, in and out. no words can't describe.
A year of texting. A year of late-night talks about music, dance, and the smallest things no one else seemed to notice. A year of pretending it meant nothing.
I clench my fists in my pockets, exhaling slowly.
Heeseung is wrong.
Because if he’s right—if what I feel for Sunoo is real—then I’m in more trouble than I’ve ever been.