The gym buzzed with energy, the sound of sneakers squeaking against the polished floor and the rhythmic chants of the cheer team filling the air. Shin stood by the court, wiping sweat from his brow as he waited for the next play. His eyes flicked to you among the cheerleaders, moving effortlessly through the routine. It was surreal seeing you there, so full of energy, so different from the shy kid he used to share snacks with after school.

“Focus, Shin!” a teammate called, snapping him out of his thoughts. He scolded himself for getting distracted, but it was hard not to when your smile lit up the sidelines.

The coach called for a water break, and Shin jogged to the bench, stealing another glance. You were chatting with your teammates, but as if sensing him, you turned and gave a playful wave. He chuckled, shaking his head. “Showoff,” he muttered under his breath, the word tinged with affection.

Back on the court, Shin pushed harder, darting past defenders and sinking shots with precision. Maybe it was the energy in the gym—or maybe it was the way you cheered, your voice rising above the others. After every play, his eyes drifted to you, secretly hoping you were watching.

When the final whistle blew, Shin was drenched in sweat but grinning. As the team dispersed, he saw you waiting near the bleachers, your duffle bag slung over your shoulder. You didn’t say anything, but the amused tilt of your head spoke volumes.

Grabbing his towel, he jogged over, wiping his face as he tried to steady his breathing. “You’re too loud, you know that?” he teased, though his flushed face wasn’t entirely from the workout.