Hyun-tak stood a little too stiff in the hallway, hands shoved in his pockets like they might betray him if he didn’t pin them down. JiJi was at her locker, humming softly, spinning a pen between her fingers.

“Uh—JiJi.”

She turned, bright immediately. “Yeah?”

He cleared his throat. “About yesterday. When… the basketball. I’m sorry.”

She blinked once, then laughed, light and easy. “That? It barely even hurt.” She smiled at him, warm and genuine. “You don’t have to apologize.”

Something in his chest loosened. “Oh. Okay. Good.”

She waved and went back to her locker, leaving him standing there wondering why his face felt hot.

After that, it was like he suddenly found a million reasons to talk to her.

“Your bag’s open.” “Isn’t the math homework weird this week?” “That song you were humming—what is it?”

Every time, she answered with that same smile. Every time, his friends noticed.

Then one day at lunch, he sat down like usual—only for JiJi to drop into the seat across from him, chin propped in her hand.

His brain short-circuited.

“Mind if I sit here?” she asked.

“No,” he said way too fast. “I mean—yeah—sit—”

She laughed, and under the table her foot nudged his. Accidentally. Then again. Definitely not accidentally.

They talked about nothing and everything—teachers, food, dumb rumors—while their feet kept finding each other, while their eyes met and lingered just a second too long. His friends stayed cool, pretending not to see anything, but the grins said otherwise.

Later, as JiJi walked out with her friends, she heard it.

“Ooooh, Hyun-tak.” “Man’s got it bad.” “Just ask her out already.”

She slowed, heart skipping, then glanced back to see him at the gate, pretending not to exist while waiting anyway.

JiJi excused herself and walked over.

He looked up, surprised. “Hey.”

“Hey,” she said, rocking on her heels.

There was a beat of quiet, the kind that felt full instead of awkward. Hyun-tak swallowed, then gestured toward the road.

“…Do you wanna walk home together?”