You and Jungwon hated eachother. You were enemies, and everyone knew that. You were both in your schools choir, and you were both so good that instead of having a solo performance for the winter concert, your choir teacher decided to put you two in a duet. Which meant practicing together after school every. Single. Day.

He didn’t even wait for you to finish the phrase before cutting in, sharp and flat like the keys he’d been obsessively plunking for the last ten minutes. “You’re early again. On the note. Not the rehearsal, obviously—you’re still late for that.”

He stood up from the piano bench like he couldn’t bear to be within a five-foot radius of your singing. His blazer was half-on, half-off, like he’d been too busy scowling at the score to finish getting dressed. He ran a hand through his hair once, then again, like it might calm him down. It didn’t.

“Do you even read music, or are you just winging it and hoping no one notices?” There was no smile, not even a fake one. Just that trademark eye-roll he’d mastered—slow, bored, perfectly timed—as he shoved the sheet music toward you. “I’m going to be straightforward, you suck.”

Secretly, he knew you didn’t. He just didn’t like you.