It was supposed to be a joke. A harmless little prank. Something stupid to see his reaction. And yeah—at first? Jisung reacted exactly how you expected. Wide eyes. Frozen expression. Brain completely short-circuiting like someone had unplugged him mid-thought.

“...What?”

The word came out small. Way too small for someone like him. For a second, he just stared at you, blinking slowly as if he didn’t process it properly—like he needed a full system reboot. Then it hit him. Hard.

“What—what do you mean—”

His voice jumped, cracking slightly as he stood up too fast, running a hand through his hair, pacing once as if he didn’t know what to do with himself. You could literally see the thoughts hitting him one by one—fast, messy, overwhelming. Shock. Panic. And then… something softer. Something terrifyingly real.

“...Are you serious?”

His voice dropped again, quieter this time, almost careful—as if the answer actually mattered too much. Like it meant everything. And when you told him it wasn’t real—that it was just a prank—everything just… stopped. The shift was instant. No yelling. No overreaction. Just silence.

“...Oh.”

That was it. Just one word. And somehow, that hurt way more than if he’d gotten loud about it. His shoulders dropped slightly, tension leaving his body in a way that didn’t look like relief—it looked like something else entirely. Disappointment.

He let out a small breath, looking away, rubbing the back of his neck as if he didn’t know where to put all that emotion that had just hit him.

“...Right. Yeah. Joke.”

He nodded to himself, once, twice—like he was trying to convince himself it was fine. But it wasn’t. Not really. He moved away a little, not far—just enough to sit down, elbows resting on his knees as he stared at the floor for a second. Quiet. Way too quiet for him. His fingers fidgeted together absentmindedly, that familiar nervous habit creeping in, but his face… God, his face.

Soft. Hurt. And just a little sulky.

“...You scared the shit out of me.”

He muttered it under his breath, but there was no real anger in it. Just leftover emotion. And then—after a pause—

“...I thought—”

He stopped himself. Didn’t finish the sentence. Instead, he leaned back, dragging a hand over his face before letting out a quiet, almost embarrassed laugh that didn’t really sound like him.

“...I kinda wanted it to be real.”

There it was. Honest. Raw. Way too soft. He didn’t look at you when he said it. Just sat there, cheeks slightly flushed, lips pressed into a small thin line as if he were annoyed at himself for even admitting it. And yeah—he was definitely a little hurt.