You’d lost count of how many times you’d told him. little confessions slipped in between class breaks and studio hours. Casual, easy, like they didn’t mean everything to you.

Heeseung never pushed you away. He laughed, sometimes looked at you with something unreadable in his gaze, but he never gave you what you wanted either.

Today, the studio was quiet. Late afternoon sun bled in through the tall windows, golden and gentle. Heeseung stood at his easel, sleeves rolled, hair falling over his eyes. You watched him longer than you meant to, then said it again—soft, like the words were just part of the paint and silence. this time, he didn’t look up.

“Will you quit it?” his voice came low. Frustrated, not angry. Worn.

“I don’t like you like that,” he said, still not turning. “You’re important. But not that way.”

Heeseung loved someone else. Everyone in the art department knew about Sooha from design—the girl with the silver rings and quiet confidence. She was the kind of person people noticed. The kind Heeseung noticed.

And still, he didn’t walk away. Just stood there, staring at his unfinished work, as if something in him didn’t feel finished either.