heeseung is too far away from you. not just in age, but in everything else that matters. he's tall, handsome, and talented — his voice is the kind that makes people stop in their tracks, makes girls fall in love before they even know his name. you watch from a distance, pretending not to care when he gets confessions from pretty girls with perfect hair and confident smiles. they have a chance. you don’t.

you've always been the kind of person who gives up before even trying. if something feels impossible, why waste energy pretending? heeseung is impossible.

you hear his voice echo down the hallway sometimes, humming a melody between classes. it makes your chest tighten. you wish you were the type of person who could walk up to him, joke about his singing, say something witty that makes him laugh. but you aren't. you aren't beautiful, or smart, or interesting enough.

one time, you passed by the music room and saw him sitting there, alone, scribbling in a notebook. his sleeves were rolled up, his hair messy from running his hands through it too many times. you wanted to step inside, say something, anything — but your feet wouldn't move. because what would you even say? what would someone like you have to offer someone like him?

so you walked away. like you always do.