After that evening at the restaurant...
After the quiet moment where Ji Hyun let himself laugh—just once—something shifted.
He didn't want to admit it.
He didn't even want to think about it.
But things changed.
They started eating together more often.
It was always someone else's idea—Haeri, or Hyun Soo, or sometimes even Ji Yong, casually tossing out, "Let's just grab something nearby."
Ji Hyun never suggested it. Never wanted it.
He sat there, silent, chewing slowly, pushing food around his tray.
Ji Yong was always nearby.
Sitting too close.
Talking too easily.
Laughing like he belonged in Ji Hyun's life.
And Ji Hyun—he hated how his world had started to fill up with that presence.
Because Ji Yong wasn't just a transfer student anymore.
He was everywhere.
And nowhere felt safe.
⸻
The basketball court used to be Ji Hyun's escape.
It was the only place where noise made sense.
Where he didn't have to talk or think—just move, run, breathe.
But now?
Even that had been taken.
Ji Yong joined the team a week ago.
Said it was for fitness.
But he played with ease. Confidence.
And, worse, style.
His shots landed. His passes were sharp. His movements smooth.
Girls leaned over the railing to watch. They whispered and laughed in small, giddy groups.
Ji Yong didn't even look their way.
But his silence somehow made it worse.
Like he didn't care how much space he took up.
And that arrogance—the calmness—drove Ji Hyun insane.
⸻
The match that week was supposed to be friendly.
But the tension wasn't.
From the moment the whistle blew, it felt like war.
Ji Hyun and Ji Yong ended up on opposing teams.
And Ji Yong was everywhere.
At first, Ji Hyun tried to ignore him.
But it was impossible.
Every time Ji Hyun caught the ball, Ji Yong was there.
Smiling.
Blocking.
Leaning in too close.
"You sure you can shoot from that far?" he whispered once, brushing past.
Ji Hyun glared.
"You sure you can shut up?"
But Ji Yong just grinned.
Then it got worse.
As Ji Hyun made a break toward the hoop, ball in hand, Ji Yong slid in from the side—grabbing him by the waist.
Ji Hyun stumbled mid-air, missed the shot.
The ball bounced off the rim.
"Oops," Ji Yong said. "Didn't realize you needed a ladder."
Ji Hyun's jaw clenched. "What did you say?"
"I said," Ji Yong smirked, "you're kind of... short for those hero moves."
The whistle blew.
"Foul! Ji Hyun—watch your arm!"
"What?!" Ji Hyun turned, stunned. "You didn't see that grab?!"
The referee just waved him off. "Focus on the game."
Ji Yong bit back a laugh.
Because of course.
No one noticed his tricks.
He was too smooth. Too clean.
Even the teammates started to mutter.
Not against Ji Yong.
Against Ji Hyun.
"Why is he missing every shot today?"
"He's too distracted."
"Tch, he's slipping hard."
Ji Hyun could barely see straight. His blood roared in his ears.
He was trying to play.
But Ji Yong's presence, his fouls, his words—they were like hooks in his brain.
He couldn't focus.
Not with that idiot weaving through his peace like it was a game.
Ji Hyun got the ball again.
Pushed past defenders.
Lunged for a shot—
And Ji Yong's hand slid across his back again, "accidentally" nudging him off balance.
He missed.
And this time?
No one even said a word.
Just disappointed sighs.
And Ji Yong, whispering as he passed:
"You're really off today, Ji Hyun."
The ball hit the ground.
Ji Hyun turned, fists trembling.
His hand curled. Just for a second.
Just one second.
He stepped forward.
Ji Yong blinked. Didn't move.
Something burned in Ji Hyun's eyes.
A second more and—
"Timeout!" the coach called.
Everyone scattered.
But Ji Hyun didn't move.
His breath was heavy.
He could feel the heat in his fists, the dry shake in his arms.
He didn't punch him.
But he came this close.
⸻
Later, Ji Hyun returned to the court after washing his face.
He stopped short.
Ji Yong was sitting on the bench. His shirt clung to his back, damp with sweat, hair parted to the side and messy. His skin glistened.
And beside him sat Haeri.
She was smiling—soft, easy, relaxed.
Then she reached into her pocket and offered him something small. A handkerchief.
"You're sweating," she said.
Ji Yong looked at it for a second.
Then at her.
He didn't take it.
Just gave that same unreadable smile.
Ji Hyun stood frozen, heart thudding.
He looked away sharply.
Stepped back onto the court and started shooting alone. Fast. Hard. Over and over again.
The sound of the ball echoed sharply in the gym.
A few minutes passed.
Then—
"Playing alone again?"
Ji Yong's voice came from behind.
Ji Hyun didn't turn.
"Pass it?" Ji Yong said.
Ji Hyun spun and glared. "Can you at least act decent?"
Ji Yong blinked. "What?"
Ji Hyun pointed at him, annoyed. "You're sweaty and lounging around like it's a fanmeeting. Stop acting flirty."
Ji Yong blinked again. Then tilted his head, amused.
"You think I'm flirting by sitting?"
Ji Hyun scowled. "You know what you're doing."
Then—without warning—he hurled the ball.
Straight at Ji Yong's chest.
Ji Yong caught it midair, not even flinching.
He smiled. "That all you got?"
Ji Hyun turned on his heel and stomped off court, heading toward the locker room
___________________
The tap squeaked as Ji Hyun twisted it open, splashing water onto his face.
His reflection looked tired.
Flushed. Unimpressed.
Behind him, the door creaked open.
Ji Yong's reflection appeared in the mirror.
"You've got rage issues," he said lightly.
"Go away," Ji Hyun muttered.
Ji Yong came to the sink beside him, leaned down, and lifted his shirt slightly—revealing the sweat along his neck and collarbone.
Ji Hyun looked away, irritated.
"What are you doing now?"
"Cleaning up. Why? Nervous?" Ji Yong smirked.
"Disgusted," Ji Hyun shot back.
Ji Yong grabbed a towel, but then turned to Ji Hyun.
"You look tense."
"I wonder why."
Ji Yong leaned in a little closer.
Then, with sudden boldness—grabbed the front of Ji Hyun's shirt.
"Yah—what the hell—!"
Ji Yong wiped his face with it, slow and unbothered.
Ji Hyun gasped, freezing.
Especially when Ji Yong's fingers grazed his skin, just below the collar.
"Seriously—!" Ji Hyun started to move—
And that's when Ji Yong tickled him at his side.
Ji Hyun squirmed violently.
"YAH—STOP—!"
But Ji Yong didn't stop.
He just laughed.
Not loudly—but with enough smugness to drive Ji Hyun insane.
Ji Hyun shoved him hard.
"You're disgusting," he said again, flustered, cheeks burning.
Ji Yong took a small step back, wiping the last bit of sweat from his cheek.
"Now I'm clean. Thanks."
Ji Hyun stood still—fists clenched.
Then he turned and stormed out, not looking back.
His ears were red.
His pulse was everywhere.
And as he pushed open the locker room door, one thought repeated in his head:
This idiot was never going to let him breathe.