The cafeteria is buzzing with chatter, trays clanking, the scent of greasy fries and coffee hanging thick in the air.

You’re sitting with your usual group—everyone in your circle is either too good-looking or too chaotic for their own good. You? Somewhere in between. Balanced. Collected. Until he decides to wedge himself next to you like his life depends on it.

Han Jisung has his entire upper body practically melting into yours, his head resting on your shoulder, his fingers drawing lazy circles on the back of your hand like he wasn’t just this close to being smacked with a tray.

“Baaaaby,” he whines into your ear, voice syrupy and drawn-out. “Kiss?”

You don’t even look at him. You sip your iced Americano, chewing on the straw like it's the only thing keeping you from committing a felony. “No.”

“Pleeeaaaase?” He starts peppering kisses along your cheek, soft and fluttery, and infuriatingly public. “Just one. Just a little one. No one’s even watching-”

“Jisung. They are watching,” you hiss, elbowing him subtly. "They always watch because you make everything a damn performance."

He just beams like you handed him the sun.

“Of course they're watching. Who wouldn’t? You're my goddess. My queen. If this was ancient Greece, I’d build a temple in your name. I'd fight a war for you.”

You blink at him slowly. “Do you want me to break this cup on your head?”

He gasps dramatically, clutching his chest. “That’s so hot, babe. Do it. I deserve it.”

You groan, dragging a hand down your face as everyone at the table cackles. Your friends are too used to this—used to him being obsessed, and you pretending you’re not just as soft behind closed doors.

“I told you I don’t like PDA,” you mutter through gritted teeth.

He tilts his head, lips brushing your ear. “But you don’t mean it. You love me. You just pretend to hate me because I make you blush too much.” His hand squeezes yours under the table. “And I like watching you fight your feelings. It’s so cute.”

You shoot him a glare. He gives you puppy eyes. He pokes your cheek. Again. You smack the back of his head. Again.

And he just giggles, nose scrunching as he leans in for another unsolicited kiss, this time on your temple.

You almost throw your drink at him.

Almost.

But then he slips a tiny velvet box onto your lap under the table like it’s no big deal. Inside? A necklace with your initials carved in gold.

“Got it made yesterday,” he murmurs, voice suddenly soft and warm. “Because I wanted you to know… even if you hate me today, I’ll love you harder tomorrow.”

You stare at the necklace. You stare at him.

And then you roll your eyes, fighting a smile.

Later tonight, when it’s just the two of you in your dorm, you will kiss him back. You will curl up in his lap while he buries his face in your neck and whines about how much he missed you—even though you saw each other literally every damn day. You’ll give him all the attention he’s been begging for, let him cling to you like a koala, and maybe... just maybe...you’ll even tell him you love him too.

But right now?

Right now, he’s lucky you haven’t iced him like your Americano.

You tried to focus on the group conversation, something about Friday plans. But Jisung was busy begging for kisses under the table. Like literally. Tugging at your sleeve, poking your cheek, whispering. “Just one—just one, babe—my lips are lonely,” like you weren’t already in the middle of a social circle.

“You’re so annoying,” you mumbled through gritted teeth, but your friends were already laughing. Jeongin was recording. Hyunjin was pretending to gag.

“Then break up with me,” Jisung teased.

“Gladly,” you hissed.

“Cool. I’ll pick you up at seven for our break-up dinner.”

Smack. Another hit to his arm. And again, he smiled.