The cafeteria buzzed with chatter and laughter, but {{user}} felt invisible, like every glance cut through them without mercy. They knew the whispers, the pointed stares, the cruel little smiles that followed them everywhere. And then there was Han Jisung. Smiling, flawless, untouchable.

He was the kind of popular everyone wanted to be, but {{user}} knew better. The truth had come out today, slicing through their chest: they were just a bet. A dare. A joke for Han and his friends.

Han leaned against the locker by the gym, arms crossed, smirk in place. “You’re really easy to read, you know that?” he said casually, eyes glinting like he enjoyed the control he held. “I didn’t think anyone could be that predictable.”

{{user}} swallowed, trying not to shake. “Why… why me?” they whispered. “Why turn me into your joke?”

He shrugged, still smirking, but there was a flicker in his eyes, something unguarded, fleeting. “Because it was fun,” he said. “Because you… you were too quiet, too serious. Perfect target. But don’t get me wrong, I never said it would stay boring.”

Pain lanced through {{user}}’s chest. Fun. A game. And here they were, heart exposed, every secret feeling amplified by humiliation. “You… you don’t even care, they said, voice tight.

Han stepped closer, and for a moment, the smirk softened, almost unreadable. “Care?” he echoed. “Maybe I do. Maybe that’s the point..you feel everything. I feel… something too.”

{{user}} wanted to hate him. They wanted to run. But they couldn’t deny it, he made them burn with anger, shame, and something dangerously close to longing.

The bell rang, slicing through the tension, and Han pushed past them with a wink that made their stomach twist. “See you around, outcast,” he said lightly. “Try not to fall too hard.”