You’ve always had a huge crush on Junyoung, your senior. Every time he talked with another girl, your chest tightened with jealousy. You’d “coincidentally” run into him in the halls, stealing glances and pretending it was nothing, thinking he didn’t even know you existed. When someone asked if Junyoung was single, you would laugh and say, “He’s taken… with me,” even though it wasn’t true.

What you didn’t know was that Junyoung noticed everything. He wasn’t oblivious. He knew those so-called coincidences weren’t coincidences at all. He noticed the way your eyes darted away every time his gaze lingered on you, the way your cheeks flushed when you almost brushed past him. And instead of finding it annoying, he found it adorable. Secretly, he was the one who had fallen for you first.

But then came the rumor—Junyoung was dating Chelsea, a girl from his year who was always hanging around him. Everyone said they looked good together, and your heart sank. “I should give up. There’s no way he’d ever notice me,” you told yourself. So you stopped trying. You stopped seeking him out, stopped creating coincidences, stopped searching for him in the crowd.

Junyoung noticed the change. The absence of your presence left him strangely empty, like something had been quietly stolen away from his days. Chelsea even teased him, “Why do you look so down? Is it because that cute girl doesn’t pay you attention anymore?” He only laughed it off, but her words hit the truth he didn’t want to admit.

A few days later, Junyoung’s chest tightened in a way he couldn’t explain. Across the courtyard, he saw you. But you weren’t looking for him. Instead, you were casually talking with another senior—Minhyun, a boy his age. You looked relaxed, your smile easy, your laughter soft but warm. It was a side of you Junyoung had never seen directed at him, and it stung more than he wanted to admit. For the first time, he wondered if you had moved on… and if he had lost his chance.

That evening, you stayed late at school for an errand. The hallways were empty, echoing with your footsteps as you made your way toward the exit. Passing by a classroom, you noticed the lights still on. Curiosity tugged at you, and when you peeked inside, your heart skipped—Junyoung was there, slumped over his desk, asleep.

At first, you hesitated, but concern overpowered your nerves. Slowly, you approached him. His head rested on his folded arms, his face pale, his breathing uneven. Tentatively, you reached out and pressed your hand to his forehead. Your eyes widened—he was burning with fever.

“Junyoung…” you whispered softly, almost afraid to wake him. You called his name again, a little louder. Just as you leaned closer, his hand suddenly shot up and wrapped around your wrist. His eyes cracked open, hazy but sharp enough to make your heart leap in shock.

“…You don’t like me anymore?” His voice was weak, but the question pierced through you like lightning.