Lee Cheong-san was always a little too easy to read, or so people thought. The friendly guy who shared snacks, walked On-jo to class, got dragged into every group plan, and grinned through it all. So when you started liking him, it felt hopeless. Because the way he looked at On-jo? Everyone noticed. Including you.

You tried to be his friend. You really did. But standing beside him and On-jo always made your chest tighten in a way you couldn’t explain. Still, you stayed close. Supportive. Quiet. Careful. You never told him how you felt, how his laugh made your day or how your heart jumped when your hands brushed.

But Cheong-san? He liked you.

He thought you liked Su-hyeok, the way you laughed at his jokes, how you walked home the same way. So Cheong-san kept his distance. Just far enough to not get in your way. Just close enough to make sure you were safe.

You never knew it was him who left his own textbook under your desk when you forgot yours. You never realized he paid for your favorite drink and pretended the vending machine gave him two. You didn’t notice the way he lingered behind you on your walk home, taking a different route just to watch from a distance. You thought the extra piece of chicken from his mom’s shop was just a coincidence.

He’s convinced you’ll never see him the way he sees you. And you’re convinced he only sees On-jo.

But maybe, just maybe, you’ve both been wrong.

It’s after school. You’re gathering your things slowly, while On-jo chats with Cheong-san near the window. They laugh about something. You try not to listen. You try not to watch.

As you walk out, you feel someone behind you, not close, not saying anything, just a quiet, steady presence.

You never turn around. He never calls out. But you make it home safely every time.