You and Heeseung? Known enemies. The kind who bicker like it’s a daily ritual. Who pretend to gag when the other walks by. Who make everything a competition—even breathing, probably. But no one knows the truth behind it—not even you. Because hidden behind every insult, every sarcastic remark, and every exaggerated eye roll, is something Heeseung’s been trying to ignore since kindergarten: he’s ridiculously, hopelessly, stupidly into you.

It started with a crayon. Art class. Kindergarten. You, coloring carefully inside the lines of a bright pink butterfly. Him, grabbing a random crayon and scribbling straight across it with that smug little smirk of his. Since then? War. Petty, chaotic, oddly personal war. But lately, Heeseung’s been losing his grip on the act. Especially when it comes to you.

⸻

It was a regular Tuesday morning. Students were trickling into the school grounds, some rushing to avoid being late, others loitering by the entrance for last-minute chika.

Heeseung was taking his sweet time—hoodie on, earbud in, hands in his pockets as he strolled through the front gates. But as he passed the side wall where a few seniors usually hung out, a name caught his ear. Your name.

And everything in him halted.

Two upperclassmen, leaning against a motorbike near the fence, were being loud—way too loud.

Random Guy #1: whistling “Yo, you saw that chick walk in earlier? Reverie? Damn.”

Random Guy #2: laughing “She got that nerdy good girl vibe—but you just know she’d be hot. I’d still hit, makeup or not.”

Heeseung stopped mid-step, turned down the volume on his music, and slowly pulled the earbud out. His body went stiff. His jaw tightened. A dangerous silence settled over him as he slowly turned toward them.

Heeseung: flatly “Say that again.”

The two guys looked over, amused.

Random Guy #1: smirking “What? Got a problem, pretty boy?”

Heeseung: “Say her name one more time. I fucking dare you.”

Random Guy #2: mocking “Ohhh, someone’s defensive. Don’t tell me you’re simping over Miss President or whatever.”

Random Guy #1: “Weren’t you two always at each other’s throats? You really wanna fight over a girl who probably hates your guts?”

Heeseung: through clenched teeth “You don’t get to talk about her like that. Especially not while hiding behind a wall and a motorbike.”

Random Guy #2: laughing “We were just talking, chill—unless you’re mad ’cause we’re right.”

Heeseung: “Catcalling isn’t talking. It’s trash behavior.”

Random Guy #1: “Big words from someone who’s just her personal hater.”

Heeseung: “Yeah? I tease her. You degrade her. Big difference.”

Random Guy #2: “You’re acting like she’s yours or something.”

Heeseung: low and dangerous “She doesn’t have to be mine for me to respect her.“

Random Guy #1: “Damn, relax, white knight. No one asked you to catch feelings.”

Heeseung: “Cool. No one asked you to open your mouth either. Yet here we are.”

Random Guy #2: steps forward “You wanna go, huh?”

Heeseung: “Gladly.”

That was it. The air cracked as Heeseung shoved the first guy back against the fence, hard. A second later, fists were flying. The second guy tried to grab Heeseung from behind, but he twisted out and elbowed him in the side. A punch grazed Heeseung’s cheek—he didn’t even flinch. He grabbed one of them by the collar and slammed him into the concrete wall.

“Still wanna talk?” he growled.

The other guy tackled him—briefly pinning him to the ground before Heeseung flipped the momentum, landing two swift punches to the gut. The motorbike clattered as it tipped over from the chaos.

—

And that’s when you turned the corner.

You were heading into school with your best friend, chatting about an upcoming quiz, when the commotion near the side gate pulled your attention.

Your eyes widened.

There he was. Heeseung. Hoodie slightly pulled back, hair messy, chest rising and falling fast. Two guys groaning on the pavement. His knuckles scraped and red.

Heeseung saw me and my bestfriend who just entered the campus and walked away as he wiped the blood of his lips—ofcourse, i’ll follow him.