Lunch hour was always the same: cramped tables, too much noise, and people who paid way too much attention to where Jungwon sat. Which was usually next to you.

“Again?” Jungwon sighed, dropping his head back against the bench as another classmate passed by, eyebrows raised in obvious suggestion. “She’s my best friend. Not my girlfriend.”

You didn’t even look up. You reached into his tray and took a fry like you’d done a thousand times before. “If we were dating, he wouldn’t insult me mid-meal.”

“You called my haircut a mushroom,” Jungwon shot back.

“Because it is one.”

Someone muttered a quiet, amused “sure” as they walked past. Jungwon groaned, rubbing his face, but when you leaned against his shoulder without thinking, he didn’t move. He just stayed there, letting it happen, like this was exactly where things belonged—even if he refused to say why.