“Hey.”

It’s not loud, but you still know it’s him without looking. You turn, and Jisung’s standing there, hoodie half-zipped, hair slightly messy like he rushed.

You’ve seen him in the hall before, plenty of times, but this time it feels different. Before, you might have nodded or given a polite smile. Now… you’re remembering what he said last night. I like talking to you.

“Hey,” you reply, maybe a little too softly.

He glances at the pile of books in your arms. “That’s a lot. You want me to carry some?”

You laugh. “It’s literally just two books.”

“Still,” he says, taking one before you can stop him. It’s stupid, but your brain is replaying the moment over and over — his hand brushing yours, the casual way he holds it like it’s no big deal.

You walk together toward your next class. It’s only a short hallway, maybe thirty seconds, but it’s quiet between you — not the awkward kind, more like you’re both comfortable enough to let it be.

Before he turns the corner to his own class, he says, almost like an afterthought:

“See you later tonight.”

And you know he doesn’t mean in person. He means the texts. The every-night habit. The thing you’re both pretending is still just friendly.

But you can’t help the smile that stays on your face for the rest of the day.