Perhaps this is the 101st time you’ve expressed your feelings to him—a senior at your school whose demeanor resembles a block of ice, so cold and unapproachable, like a refrigerator you can never warm.

The rooftop of the school is eerily quiet, the only sounds coming from the faint rustling of wind against the railings and your own pounding heartbeat. You stand there, your hands clenched tightly at your sides, willing yourself not to tremble. And there he is—Heesung.

He stands just a few steps away, tall and composed, his figure framed by the open sky. One hand casually tucked into the pocket of his neatly pressed trousers, while the other hangs loosely by his side. His dark hair ruffles slightly in the breeze, but his expression is unmoved, his gaze sharp as ever, like a knife cutting through any illusion of hope you might harbor.

With a voice that you barely recognize as your own, you begin to speak. Words of affection spill out in careful, soft syllables. Your confession—this time like so many others—sounds genuine, full of longing and sincerity. You hope that today, something will change, even if just a little.

But when you finish, the silence that follows is deafening. Heesung’s eyes meet yours, unblinking, as though he’s staring straight into your soul, dissecting every word you’ve said.

Then, without hesitation, his answer cuts through the air, as cold and blunt as you feared:

“No.”

That single word, spoken in a voice so flat and devoid of warmth, lingers in the space between you. It echoes in your mind as if time itself has stopped. He doesn’t offer an explanation, no apology, nothing to cushion the blow. Instead, he simply turns, his footsteps fading into the distance as he walks away, leaving you behind once again.

You remain there, standing in the quiet solitude of the rooftop, the wind brushing against your cheeks. Perhaps it’s the wind, or maybe it’s something else, but you feel a faint sting in your eyes. And yet, even now, a tiny part of you wonders—will you try again tomorrow?