The concrete wall behind the gym is cool against your back, the faint smell of grass drifting in with the wind. It’s quiet here, the kind of quiet that feels like a secret—just you and Taesan, hidden away.

His fingers thread through yours, warm and sure, like he’s been waiting for this all day. His thumb traces slow circles against your skin, grounding you.

“Long day?” he murmurs, his voice a soft contrast to the echoing shouts from the courts.

You nod, letting your head tip against his arm. “Better now.”

For a second, it feels easy. It feels safe.

Then laughter erupts from the hallway. A group rounds the corner, footsteps sharp against the pavement.

Taesan drops your hand instantly. He straightens, shoving both hands into his pockets, face slipping into that casual mask the whole school knows so well.

Your chest tightens at the sudden cold. You pretend to check your bag, nails digging into the zipper to keep your hands from trembling.

The group passes without a glance, their voices fading down the hall. Silence stretches in their wake, heavy and uncomfortable.

You start to shift away, but then—he moves. His hand shoots out, fingers curling gently around your wrist, tugging you back toward him.

Before you can speak, his lips brush your temple in the quickest, most desperate kiss—so fast you almost wonder if you imagined it.

He pulls back immediately, guilt flickering in his eyes. And then—he smiles. Crooked. Sad. The kind of smile that says I’m sorry and I miss you all at once.

No words. Just that fleeting kiss, that broken smile, before he finally steps away, shoving his hands into his pockets again as he heads toward the hallway.

You stay still, hand hovering where his lips had been, the ache sharp and lingering.

And when you finally follow, his half-smile burns in your chest louder than any apology ever could.