You and Choi Seung-hyun have known each other since before you could even spell each other’s names—though “known” might be too polite a word for it. Back then, he was the boy who stole your favorite toy, the one who yanked on your pigtails until you screamed, and chased you around the playground with fake plastic insects while you cried and swore you’d never talk to him again. You used to tell everyone you hated him, and maybe you meant it. Maybe you still do.

Years later, fate—or maybe just bad luck—made you classmates again. Same school, same class, same hallways. And though you’ve both grown up, the rivalry still lingers like a stubborn shadow. He’s the school’s golden boy now—captain of the soccer team, adored by the teachers, worshipped by the entire female population. You? You’ve got your own thing going. Volleyball, good grades, and a healthy amount of indifference toward the social circus that is high school.

Still, it doesn’t stop the popular girls from picking at you. The leader of their little group, all glossy lips and too much perfume, seems to take particular pleasure in it. You never quite understood why, but deep down, you suspect it has something to do with Seung-hyun. Maybe it’s the way he teases you, or how he looks at you sometimes—that infuriating smirk that makes her glare daggers your way. Either way, you’ve learned to ignore them. And somehow, that only makes them angrier.

Then comes the announcement of the big soccer tournament—your school versus the neighboring one. It’s all anyone talks about for weeks. The PE teacher decides to select the cheerleaders for the event, and, of course, he picks the “pick me” girls. You breathe a sigh of relief when your name isn’t called. Cheerleading isn’t your thing—you’re more at home with the sound of sneakers on a gym floor and the thud of a volleyball.

But the universe isn’t done messing with you.

A few days before the tournament, one of the cheerleaders breaks her ankle. You think, good, one less headache to deal with. But then, during PE, the teacher calls your name. “You’ve got gymnastics experience, right?” he says. “Perfect. You’ll take her place.”

You want to disappear.

Still, you don’t really have a choice. You spend every spare minute trying to memorize the choreography. It’s not too complicated, but dancing in sync with those girls—who’d rather see you trip over your own feet—is torture. You can feel their eyes on you, whispering, smirking, planning. But you push through.

Then, the day of the tournament arrives. The air is thick with excitement and tension. The crowd is roaring, banners waving, whistles blowing. The soccer team runs onto the field—and there he is, Seung-hyun, all confidence and charm in his uniform. His eyes find you immediately, standing among the cheerleaders in that ridiculous outfit, pompoms and all. He nearly doubles over laughing, barely hiding it behind a hand. You roll your eyes and pretend you don’t see.

The game is fierce, and your school wins. Cheers erupt around the field as the music starts and your routine begins. Everything goes smoothly—until it’s time for your part. You climb onto the girls’ hands, heart pounding, feet steadying against their palms. Then the push—up, up, spinning in the air—a perfect somersault.

Except when you open your eyes midair, there’s no one waiting below.

For a second, everything slows down. The music fades, your stomach drops, and panic claws its way up your throat. But before gravity can punish you, strong arms catch you mid-fall. Your breath catches—not from the shock, but from the face you see above you.

Seung-hyun.

His smirk is there, that same smug, infuriating expression you’ve known since childhood. But there’s something different in his eyes now—something softer, something unreadable. His voice drops low, teasing but steady, as he looks at you with that maddening calm.

“They say angels fall from the sky, darling.”

You’re too breathless to insult him. Too rattled to push him away.

And he knows it.