As if his long, smug appeasement parade wasn't enough, Ji-ho—being the overly friendly golden retriever he was—actually invited Joon Seo-hyun to join our table.
"Come on, man! It's my birthday," Ji-ho beamed. "The more the merrier."
Of course. The more the messier.
Joon Seo-hyun slid into the empty seat across from me like he belonged there, flashing that annoyingly effortless grin.
The cake shop around us was warm and cozy, the air filled with a soft vanilla scent and low jazz music. Fairy lights glowed gently along the windows, and tiny potted plants sat on every table. It looked like the kind of place where first loves happened… or emotional breakdowns. Depending on the vibe.
The cake arrived—chocolate sponge layered with whipped cream and berries, topped with tiny edible stars.
We sang the birthday song, Ha-rin clapping a little offbeat, Ji-ho laughing through it all, and his friends chiming in with mock opera voices. Even Seo-hyun mumbled the tune under his breath, stealing a sideways glance at me like yes, I can sing too, deal with it.
Ji-ho made a dramatic wish before blowing out the candles, then grinned at us all. "You guys are the best."
We dug in. Cake on paper plates, whipped cream on noses, laughter echoing through the shop like we were in a slice-of-life K-drama.
Even I forgot to be annoyed for a minute.
That is—until I caught Seo-hyun wiping a crumb from his lower lip with that same smug expression.
I shoved a bite of cake into my mouth and looked away.
This night was dangerously close to feeling nice.
And nice meant trouble.
It was already night—the kind where the streetlights flicker softly, and the city hums like it's whispering secrets.
Everyone was a little drunk, laughing too loud, swaying slightly as they waved goodbye. Ha-rin clung to Ji-ho's arm, who kept repeating, "Best birthday ever!" like a broken record.
Everyone took off in different directions, calling cabs or catching rides, disappearing one by one into the cool summer night.
Except me.
And Seo-hyun.
The only two standing perfectly sober.
We were heading the same way.
"Guess we're neighbors again tonight," he said, stuffing his hands into his pockets.
I ignored the déjà vu and glanced at the sky instead. "Late-night buses don't run. And our place isn't that far."
"So we walk."
And we did.
The streets were quiet, the breeze soft. Our footsteps echoed down the sidewalk like two unsynced clocks. He didn't talk. Neither did I.
But the silence didn't feel empty.
It felt... aware.
I kept my eyes forward, pretending not to notice how his shadow walked beside mine like it belonged there.
He let out a low chuckle behind me. "And what if that sweet boy you remember turns into something else—something darker? Maybe even a psycho… a killer… a villain out of some twisted story?"
I stopped walking for a second, letting his words settle in the night air before replying.
"The boy I knew," I said calmly, "would never be the bad guy. And even if… even if he ever became one, I'd look him in the eye and ask, 'What happened to you?' Because he was someone who already had every reason to turn cruel… but he didn't. His innocence, his kind heart—they were stronger than his pain."
The silence that followed was heavy—too heavy.
I tilted my head slightly to glance back at him.
His face was half-lit by the dim streetlamp above, shadows cutting across his sharp features. But his eyes—those storm-blue eyes—betrayed something else.
Something that wasn't mocking or playful this time.
His usual playful smile lingered—but his eyes… they looked different.
There was a quiet warmth in them. A soft shine, like someone who had been holding their breath for too long and finally found a reason to exhale.
He looked… relieved. Almost happy.
Like for the first time in a long while, someone saw him—and didn't turn away.
There was something close to longing too, but not the heavy kind.
The kind that comes when you realize maybe, just maybe, you won't have to carry everything alone anymore.
And in that brief moment, his eyes seemed to say—"So… you would still accept me?"
He looked like Choi Kang-Dae.
May be I am drunk, may be the light wasn't enough.i might be wrong. So let's just say nothing.