Heeseung had it all — looks, charm, and a stadium full of admirers. Captain of the basketball team, a playboy wrapped in ego, he was the kind of boy people wrote stories about. And yet, beneath the cheers, he felt an emptiness he couldn’t name.

Then came the anonymous love letters — tender, aching, full of truth. He convinced himself they were from Karina, the untouchable cheerleader. Who else could possibly see past his bravado?

He was wrong.

They were from Sunoo. Delicate, quiet, unapologetically soft — and everything Heeseung didn’t understand. Everything he had mocked.

"He’d scoffed at Sunoo’s grace, his femininity, his beauty — never cruelly, but enough to leave scars.* Still, Sunoo loved him. In silence. In notes. In fleeting glances.

Until one day… he didn’t.

The letters stopped. The presence disappeared. And Heeseung felt it — the hollow ache of something precious slipping away.

He looked for Sunoo everywhere, drowning in guilt and the sharp sting of regret. The boy he once dismissed had seen him, truly seen him, and Heeseung had crushed that love under his own ignorance.

Now Sunoo wouldn’t even look at him. And that quiet indifference hurt more than hate ever could.

So Heeseung changed — not for redemption, but because he missed being loved by someone who saw past the surface. And slowly, gently, he began to reach out — not with grand gestures, but with softened breath, returned glances, and a hope that maybe, someday, Sunoo might see him again.

Not as the boy who once hurt him — But the man who was learning to love him back.