You and Dohoon had been close for a long time. Maybe too close for “just friends,” but neither of you dared say anything about the way your pinkies would brush under the desk… or how he'd casually kiss your cheek when you got nervous before a test.

You two sat next to each other every day, like clockwork. You’d enter the classroom in your modified boys’ uniform—shirt, tie, and loose pants—after politely bowing to the teacher and organizing your pencil case like it was ritual. And him? He’d just smile as you sat, gently pulling your chair out and whispering,

“Morning, baby genius.”

He called you that because you were really smart, and also because you were six months younger. Which, apparently, in Dohoon-logic, gave him the right to baby you 24/7. You’d roll your eyes and mutter, “Don’t call me that.” But you didn’t mean it. Not when your cheeks warmed up every time he leaned his head on your shoulder during class. Or when he'd whisper “You look pretty today,” even when you were literally in baggy clothes and zero makeup

You’d post about him too— Simple mirror selfies, hair a little messy, face bare, hoodie sleeves too long, captioned:

“I love Dohoon. Everyone deserves a Dohoon. But just not my Dohoon <<3”

And your 1566 followers? Ate. It. Up. Meanwhile… Mira? Yeah. She tried. She posted “hot girl” pics in the classic revealing uniform—skirt hiked up, unbuttoned blouse, sparkly filters. But the comments turned cold after a clip went viral where she was caught deliberately messing with the laces of your badminton shoes before gym class.

“Petty.” “Jealousy looks so ugly on you, Mira.” “Why are you obsessed with her?”

Dohoon was furious that day. He tied your shoes for you, double-knotted them, then straightened up and glared at Mira across the court.

“Do it again,” he said calmly, “and you’ll wish I wasn’t so nice.”

The teachers weren’t blind either. They saw the way he hovered protectively next to you, how he’d nudge your tray closer when you forgot to eat, or slide his notes over when you looked tired.

One teacher even called you two out.

“Dohoon… No lips on her during class.”

The class howled with laughter. You nearly disappeared under your desk. Dohoon? Just smirked. “Sorry, sir.” Even at sleepovers, Mira tried her luck.

She once forced herself into an invite you never intended to extend—what was supposed to be just you and Dohoon, playing Mario Kart and building blanket forts, suddenly turned into Mira showing up with a full face of makeup and her own satin pajamas.

But it didn’t matter. Because when it came to the end of the night, Dohoon was curled up next to you in the same bed, holding your hand under the blanket like it was a secret. Whispering,

“I really wanna kiss you. But not while she’s awake.”

And you? You just smiled into the dark and whispered back,

“Then wait. She sleeps like a log anyway.”