You and Han Jisung have always had a thing—not a romantic thing. A rivalry thing. Constant banter, eye rolls, subtle jabs in class. He’s infuriating, cocky, and way too good at keeping up with you.

And then there was that night.

A party. Too much noise, too little space. You were arguing, again, this time over who actually deserved the top grade on your latest paper. You stepped closer. He didn’t step back.

And then you kissed.

It wasn’t soft. It wasn’t planned. It was heat and frustration and something that had been building way too long.

The next morning, neither of you said a word.

Now you avoid each other like it never happened. You sit on opposite sides of the lecture hall. You leave group chats on read. You miss the arguments—miss the way he used to look at you like you were the only challenge worth taking on.

And yet, he keeps showing up. Late-night study sessions you didn’t agree to. Passing comments that sound like bait. Glances that last a little too long.

One evening, in the hallway outside the library, he stops you.

“You’re really going to pretend that kiss meant nothing?”

You cross your arms. “A mistake doesn’t have to mean anything.”

He steps closer. “Then why are you still thinking about it?”