Lee Han-jae's POV
I'd had enough.
Her stares. Her following. Her persistence.
I stood from my seat and muttered under my breath, "I'll just tell her how I feel."
Annoyed, I walked toward her seat, ready to cut this quietly, sharply—before she mistook my silence for interest.
But then—
A hand gripped my wrist.
I was pulled back with enough force to spin me around.
My back hit the wall softly, and when I looked up—
Beom-soo.
His arms caged me in—one on either side of my head.
Eyes level with mine.
His breath was quiet but fast, his face far too close.
Close enough that I forgot how to think for a second.
I felt the heat rise in my face and cursed myself for it.
I cleared my throat. "What's wrong?"
He didn't move away.
His eyes didn't blink.
"Are you going to talk to her?" he asked, his voice lower than usual.
I stared at him, confused. "Who?"
Then it clicked.
"Oh—Nam-woo's sister? Yeah, why?"
His jaw tensed slightly.
"Don't," he said.
His cheeks were tinged pink. Barely—but I saw it.
"…Why?" I asked, trying to mask the way my heart had started pounding.
He looked away for half a second, then back at me.
"Just don't talk to anyone else."
The words hit harder than I expected.
There was no hesitation in his voice.
Only something raw.
Possessiveness?
Jealousy?
I didn't ask.
I just nodded.
"…Okay."
---
Later, we had physical education.
The whole class gathered outside, the sun too bright, the grass still damp under our shoes.
I hated sports. Always had.
So I sat back on the steps, arms crossed, pretending I didn't care.
But my eyes were already tracking him.
Beom-soo.
He moved like a current—fast, sharp, light on his feet.
Like flying.
I watched the sweat glisten on his skin, the way his shirt clung to his body, revealing a frame that shouldn't have been allowed to look that good for someone who claimed he spent most weekends gaming.
I stared longer than I should have.
My throat tightened.
I swallowed hard.
God.
Why did he look so perfect doing even this?
---
Just then, a shadow blocked the sun.
Tae-min.
He stood in front of me, jaw tight.
"Come with me."
He didn't wait for an answer—just turned and walked.
I followed. Something about his voice said don't ignore this.
He led me to the back of the school, where no one would hear us.
Then he turned.
"I'm only going to say this once," he said coldly. "Stay away from Beom-soo."
I blinked. "What?"
His eyes narrowed. "Don't play dumb."
"You're joking, right?"
"Do I look like I'm joking?"
That's when it snapped.
The tension that had been simmering between us for days boiled over.
I don't even remember who threw the first punch.
But the fight was fast, brutal, and quiet. We both landed hits.
My lip was split. His knuckles were bleeding.
When it ended, he left without another word.
Didn't even look back.
---
I returned to class late.
Tae-min had gone back before me.
Beom-soo and the others were already there.
Tae-min walked past Beom-soo without a word when he asked, "What happened?"
No answer.
I stepped in a few seconds later.
My face was bruised, lip cracked, uniform collar tugged awkwardly from the scuffle.
No one asked me anything.
But Beom-soo stared.
His eyes widened—just slightly—but I caught it.
He understood.
He knew.
Still, I walked past him.
Said nothing.
Collapsed into my seat and pretended to sleep.
---
Later, during the last period, she came.
Yoon-ah.
Nam-woo's sister.
She stood beside my desk, voice soft. "What happened to your face?"
I didn't respond.
"Did someone hurt you?"
I stared at the window.
She sat down beside me.
"Was it... Tae-min?"
I still didn't speak.
Eventually, she gave up.
She sighed and returned to her seat.
---
I didn't care what she thought.
I didn't care what anyone thought.
I only cared about the way Beom-soo had looked at me.
And for some reason...
That was enough.
When the final bell rang, the classroom emptied like it always did.
Laughter echoed down the hallway. Bags zipped. Desks scraped.
I stayed in my seat.
Alone.
The sky outside had already darkened by the time I noticed someone still there.
Not someone.
Him.
Beom-soo stood silently beside my desk, his bag slung over one shoulder. His eyes scanned my face—not kindly, not coldly—just... reading me.
Like he already knew everything.
"Did you and Tae-min fight?" he asked quietly.
I didn't reply.
Didn't have to.
I looked at the window instead, angling my face away from the bruising. I knew he'd already seen it.
He sighed.
That sound—frustrated but soft—made me glance up at him again.
"…Why are you still here?" I asked.
He tilted his head, eyes narrowing slightly.
"What about you? You're still here too."
I scoffed, looking away. "You and I are different."
He didn't move. "How?"
I hesitated.
I couldn't answer that.
Because the truth?
He was light, and I was shadow.
He was silence, and I was everything else—the obsession, the hunger, the ache of wanting someone too much and too badly.
I just stared at him.
And somehow, that was enough.
He sighed again.
"Come on," he said. "Let's go back together."
My heart stuttered.
I tried to keep my face blank, but something inside me unraveled.
I stood and followed without another word.
---
On the walk, he asked casually, "Do you play Mobile Legends?"
I nodded. "Yeah."
He kept his eyes ahead. "Come to my place this weekend. Let's play."
It was like being offered air after drowning.
But I only nodded again. Calm. Cool.
Like it wasn't the best part of my week.
---
Saturday came.
I arrived early.
His place was clean, quiet, modern—the kind of space that smelled like new laundry and untouched furniture.
But I wasn't the only one there.
Tae-min. Do-won. Nam-woo.
And her.
Nam-woo's sister.
She waved at me as she entered the room, clutching a wireless controller in one hand and grinning like she belonged here.
Apparently, she was a gamer too.
A damn good one.
I didn't expect that. But even with her fingers flying across the screen and her casual banter with the boys—
My eyes were on him.
Beom-soo.
Only him.
He sat on the edge of the couch, sleeves pushed up, gaze focused on the screen, thumb movements sharp, precise, instinctive.
I couldn't look away.
---
Then, it happened.
Tae-min, smug as ever, leaned closer to him—too close.
He laughed at something dumb, then said loudly, "Dare from Do-won!"
He placed a hand on Beom-soo's shoulder.
And kissed his forehead.
Right in front of me.
Casual. Confident.
Like he'd done it a hundred times.
My jaw clenched.
My hands curled into fists in my lap.
Beom-soo didn't flinch. Didn't move away. Didn't react.
As if he was used to it.
As if it meant nothing.
That made it worse.
So much worse.
I could feel the heat rise in my chest, climbing like fire. But I didn't move. Didn't say a word.
Tae-min looked at me.
Smirked.
He knew.
And that smirk?
Was a challenge.
---
I looked back at Beom-soo.
He still hadn't said a word.
Still hadn't looked at me.
But he would.
Eventually.
Because no matter who touched him, who sat near him, who kissed his skin for a dare—
He was mine.
He just didn't know it yet.