the first time heeseung approached you, you nearly dropped your book.

“can we talk?” he asked, sliding into the empty seat across from you in the library.

you narrowed your eyes. lee heeseung—the most popular guy in school, captain of the football team, golden boy. girls practically tripped over themselves for a chance to breathe the same air as him. and yet, here he was, sitting in front of you.

“about what?” you asked cautiously.

he leaned forward, lowering his voice. “i… need your help.”

“with what? homework? ’cause i don’t do other people’s math assignments.”

he shook his head, his lips twitching into a nervous smile. "not homework. wonyoung.”

your eyebrows shot up. “my best friend, wonyoung?”

“yeah,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “i like her. but… i don’t know how to approach her. you’re her best friend—you could help me, right?”

you almost laughed. heeseung? shy? he could have any girl in the school with a snap of his fingers, and he wanted your help? no way.

“why me?” you asked suspiciously.

“because you know her best. and because…” he hesitated, then pulled something out of his bag—a pair of shiny concert tickets.

your jaw dropped. “no way. txt?”

he nodded, grinning now that he saw your reaction. “front row. yours—if you help me with wonyoung.”

with a sigh and tickets in your hands, you agreed to help heeseung but helping heeseung turned out to be… strange.

“okay,” you said, sitting across from him at the café, your notebook open. “wonyoung likes guys who pay attention. so, ask questions. about her day, her interests, things she likes.”

heeseung frowned. "what if i say the wrong thing?”

“you won’t,” you said firmly. “just… be sincere.”

“like this?” heeseung leaned closer, his dark brown eyes fixed on you. “so, {{user}}… what’s your favorite drink?”

your breath caught. “that’s… not—you’re supposed to practice with her, not me.”

he smirked. “but you’re pretending to be her, right? so, answer.”

“…green tea latte,” you muttered, looking away.

“cute,” he said softly.

your heart flipped—and you hated that it did.

heeseung insisted on “practicing” more. somehow, that turned into fake dates.

you went bowling. he let you win, even though you knew he was way better.

you went to the arcade and again, he let you win and even won soft toys for you.

you walked home together after study sessions, bickering about music and food.

but the day of the confession came sooner than you wanted.

you stood behind the school gym, watching from a distance as heeseung held a bouquet of roses and a box of chocolates, confessing to wonyoung.

“i like you,” he said, voice steady but eyes nervous.

wonyoung’s face lit up. “i like you too, heeseung.”

you turned away before the sting in your chest could overwhelm you. you should have been happy for your best friend. you should have been relieved your job was done, but why did it hurt so much?

wonyoung was glowing at prom, her hand looped proudly through heeseung’s arm. everywhere they went, people stared, whispered, envied.

but heeseung… wasn’t glowing.

he found himself scanning the crowd until his eyes landed on } you, sitting at a table with your friends, fiddling with your drink. you looked effortlessly pretty in your simple dress, your smile small and real—not the practiced, dazzling one wonyoung wore all night.

“come on, hee,” wonyoung tugged his arm, pulling him toward the dance floor.

but all he could think about was your laughter during their fake dates, the way you teased him, the warmth in your eyes when you forgot to hide it.

halfway through the night, he excused himself.

“{{user}},” he called softly, walking up to your table.