You'd always thought Seungmin was a little cruel.
Not the textbook definition of cruelty—he never mocked you, never tore you down with words. His cruelty was quiet. It came in the form of glances he never gave you, inside jokes he only shared with others, and the way he never noticed how much you noticed him. He was never outwardly cold, just passively indifferent—like you were part of the scenery, something to step around but never truly see.
It was senior year. You were lab partners.
You always arrived early, methodically arranging test tubes and jotting down procedures with the kind of diligence that masked how your pulse fluttered the moment the door creaked open. He'd walk in, a soft mumble of “hey” on his lips, never quite looking you in the eye. He was polite—always polite—but detached, like there was a pane of glass between you that only you ever tried to reach through.
And then came Harin.
She was everything you weren’t—poised, eloquent, magnetic. The kind of girl who walked into a room and bent attention toward her like gravity. Seungmin didn’t stand a chance. Nobody did. You saw it unfold like a slow-motion car crash. The way his eyes softened around her. How he lingered when she talked. The way he lit up—brighter, fuller, in ways you’d never been able to pull from him.
You swallowed the ache like medicine. Bitter. Necessary. Repeated.
Still, you stayed. Orbiting him quietly. A background presence. A silent constant. You convinced yourself it was enough to just be there.
Then one rainy Wednesday afternoon, the teacher asked for extra help in the lab. The storm clawed at the windows as you worked, the silence between you and Seungmin almost clinical. Your sleeves were damp, your hands shaky from the cold, but you focused on the glass slides and equations. Anything but him.
And yet… your ears caught every breath he took.
He stood across from you, his brows furrowed, lips slightly parted—like he wanted to say something but didn't know how to shape the words. You didn’t ask. You didn’t look up. You were too afraid that even your silence would come across as a plea.
Your mind kept repeating the same question over and over, a cruel mantra: Why do I always feel invisible around you?
But you never spoke it aloud. You already knew the answer.
You weren’t invisible.
You were just... second.
Not the favorite. Not the first thought. Not the heart's automatic direction. Just the safe one. The familiar shadow behind someone brighter.
He never looked at you the way he looked at her.
And maybe he never would.
But then.. Harin was by the door, leaning on to the door frame, her gaze locked towards to Seungmin working flawlessly. You notice her presence, but didn't dare to look up to look at her gaze.