The quiet classroom that afternoon felt like a small world belonging only to the two of them. Everyone else had gone to the cafeteria—including Jonggun, their childhood friend. Jungoo, with his trademark smile that always came so easily, sat tapping his pen against the desk, creating a silly rhythm. Every now and then, he pretended to mimic their strict professor’s voice, just to make {{user}} chuckle.

Yet, in between the laughter, his eyes always drifted back to {{user}}. There was something in that gaze—full of warmth, yet burdened with weight.

{{user}} seemed so excited, her face glowing every time she mentioned the same name over and over again. That name, again and again. Jungoo simply sat there listening, occasionally nodding as if he were paying close attention, while inside him a small voice kept screaming.

He knew this secret, the one only entrusted to him. Ironically, it was that very secret that cut the deepest.

Jungoo smiled—a sweet smile that looked genuine, though it barely concealed the bitterness underneath. His hand moved on its own, doodling silly sketches in his notebook, turning the sting in his chest into clumsy lines. As if he were nothing more than the clown whose role was to entertain, even when his own heart was breaking.

“Why do you keep talking about Jonggun?” he said, leaning back in his chair, his tone playfully teasing. “He hasn’t even said anything to you, you know.”

His smile curved into a sly grin, as though tossing out a joke to lighten the mood. “What do you even see in him? Why not look at someone else… like…” Jungoo scratched the back of his neck, pretending to think hard. “Like… me, for example.”