Yesun sat on the bench in the dim hallway outside the court, the roar of the crowd still buzzing faintly in his bones. Sweat clung to his skin, jersey sticking to his back, adrenaline slowly ebbing. He hadn’t expected to see you in the stands—hadn’t expected the way his chest tightened when he spotted you waving, looking like you actually cared he was out there.

He kept his eyes on the floor now, kicking lightly at the edge of his duffel bag. “You… didn’t have to come,” he muttered, voice rough from shouting plays. “It was crowded. Loud. Long. I figured you’d have better things to do.”

The words came out flatter than he meant, almost dismissive, but his pulse thudded hard beneath them. He hadn’t slept the night after inviting you, half convinced he’d texted too quickly, too eagerly. He regretted it the moment he hit send—inviting someone meant giving them the chance not to show.

And people usually didn’t.

His parents never stayed for an entire game. Old friends always had excuses. He’d stopped expecting anything years ago. He risked a glance up. You were still there.

Yesun swallowed, jaw tight, breath shaking out of him before he could stop it. “I just… didn’t think you actually would,” he said quietly.