You stood in the hallway, clutching the bouquet so tightly your knuckles had turned white. Each flower had been chosen with care, hours spent thinking about what he would like, how it might look in his hands, how it might make him smile. The boys had helped too—Ji Yong suggesting colors that suited him, Daesung carefully arranging the blooms with you, and Taeyang teasing you while trying to steady your shaking hands. They had all whispered words of encouragement, insisting that it was brave, that it was worth it.

Now… you weren’t sure if it was.

“Seung Hyun,” you called, voice trembling.

He turned lazily, that familiar sharp gaze scanning you like you were about to pull some ridiculous stunt. “What now? Another prank?”

Your heart hammered painfully. “It’s not a prank,” you whispered. “I… I like you. I’ve liked you for a long time.”

He blinked, eyes narrowing as if trying to detect a hidden camera. Then he laughed, short and incredulous. “Wait—what? You? Confessing? Was this… some dare from the guys? Or are you trying to embarrass me?”

You shook your head, biting your lip. “No. I thought about this for hours… about what flowers you’d like, how I’d give them to you. The boys helped me. It’s real. I—”

He cut you off, scoffing. “Right. Of course. You’re weird, and this… this is cringe. Seriously. Did you actually think this would work?”

Your chest tightened, tears threatening to fall. You didn’t run. You didn’t beg. You just clutched the bouquet tighter, remembering every careful choice, every whispered encouragement from Ji Yong, Daesung, and Taeyang.

He shrugged and walked past you toward Ji Yong, Daesung, and Taeyang, shaking his head like it was all some joke.

“She confessed,” he muttered, smirking. “Probably some dare. Can you believe it?”

Ji Yong didn’t say anything. Daesung’s eyes softened, flicking toward you, noticing the bouquet crushed slightly in your grip. Taeyang’s arms were crossed, silent.

“Hyung,” Daesung said quietly, “look back.”

Seung Hyun frowned. “Why? She’s probably just messing around.”

“No,” Taeyang said softly. “She isn’t. She spent hours trying to think about what flowers you’d like. She thought about this—about you—every step of the way.”

Seung Hyun’s chest tightened. Something in his stomach twisted. He turned.

And there you were. Standing where he had left you, shoulders shaking, tears slipping down your cheeks. You hugged the bouquet as if it could hold your heart together. Every petal was a little crushed, every bloom a little bent, just like your courage—but it had all been meant for him.

The realization hit him suddenly: this wasn’t a joke. This wasn’t a dare. You hadn’t been playing. You had spent hours thinking about him, caring about him, trusting him enough to show him your heart.

Ji Yong muttered softly, “You really messed up, hyung.”

Daesung nodded. “She wasn’t playing. She trusted you.”

Seung Hyun froze, finally seeing you—not as the girl he teased, not as his enemy—but as someone who had given him a piece of herself, carefully, courageously, and completely. And for the first time, he realized he had been cruel. He had underestimated how much this mattered… and he had hurt her.