The next morning felt normal.
Too normal.
I walked beside him like always—same road, same silence. But something had changed. Not in a way I could explain. Just… in the way I noticed everything more.
The distance between us wasn't far.
But it wasn't nothing either.
Neither of us spoke. Once or twice, I almost said something—but the words never came out. And somehow, he didn't try either.
When we reached the school gate, the noise of students slowly filled the quiet around us.
"Hey."
Yian stood ahead, looking at both of us—then at the space between us. His eyes lingered for a moment, like he noticed something he didn't say.
"You two came together?" he asked casually.
"…Yeah," I replied.
He nodded, a small smile forming. "Come on, class is about to start."
The classroom felt the same.
Same seats. Same voices.
But I couldn't focus the way I usually did.
"…You're not listening."
His voice came from beside me.
I blinked and looked down at my notebook. "…I am."
"You're not," he said simply.
I sighed. "…This part is confusing."
He leaned slightly closer, looking at the page.
"You're overthinking it," he said. "It's simpler than it looks."
"Then explain it."
He didn't argue. Just started explaining—calm, steady, like before.
And somehow… I understood again.
Classes passed quietly after that.
Not fast. Not slow.
Just… normal.
By lunchtime, I sat with Yian.
Sihoon wasn't there.
"Hey," Yian said, opening his lunch. "We've got a basketball match today. You should come watch."
"I can't," I said.
"Why?"
"I'm going to watch a movie… with Jiwoo."
He paused, then nodded. "Oh. Right. I remember."
I didn't think much of it.
But if Sihoon had been there—
he would've heard it too.
By evening, I was standing in front of the theater.
Jiwoo was already there.
"You're here," he said, smiling.
"…Yeah."
We went inside together.
The movie played, but my thoughts didn't follow it.
I was too aware of him sitting beside me.
Once, our hands almost touched.
I moved mine away first.
It felt… awkward.
Different from before.
After the movie, we walked outside.
The evening air felt cooler.
For a while, neither of us spoke.
Then—
We walked a little further before stopping near a small streetlight.
The light was dim—just enough to soften the quiet around us.
Jiwoo looked ahead for a moment, then spoke softly.
"…Do you remember that small shop near the orphanage?"
I blinked, surprised.
"…The one we used to go to secretly?"
He smiled faintly.
"Yeah."
A small laugh escaped me.
"We weren't even supposed to go there."
"But you always wanted those snacks," he said.
"And you always came with me," I replied.
He didn't deny it.
"…You used to walk ahead," he added quietly.
"Like you weren't afraid of anything."
I shook my head slightly.
"…I was. I just didn't show it."
He looked at me then.
"…I know."
There was a pause.
"That's why I stayed," he continued softly.
"Even when you didn't say anything."
My chest tightened a little.
"It felt enough… just being there with you."
The air between us grew quiet again.
"…I thought it would always stay like that," he said.
I didn't answer.
Because I didn't know how to.
And maybe—
silence was already an answer.
"Jia."
I stopped.
"I have something to tell you."
Something in his voice made my chest tighten.
"I've been thinking about this for a long time," he said.
"And I don't want to hide it anymore."
I stayed quiet.
"…I like you."
The words were simple.
But they carried weight.
"…Jiwoo," I said softly,
"since childhood… you've always been beside me."
He didn't interrupt.
"Thank you… for everything," I continued.
"Even when I didn't realize it… you were always there."
I took a small breath.
"…But I don't think I can return your feelings."
His eyes didn't move.
"I've always seen you as a friend."
Silence.
Then he asked—
"…Do you like him?"
I froze slightly.
"…Sihoon?"
He didn't answer.
But I already knew.
I looked down for a moment.
"At first… I thought it was nothing," I said slowly.
"Maybe just normal… or maybe I was overthinking."
My fingers tightened slightly.
"Because he's always there… even when I don't say anything."
I lifted my gaze again.
"…But now… I think I really do."
Jiwoo looked at me quietly.
Then… he smiled.
"…I'm glad."
His voice was soft.
"You look happier when you talk about him."
I didn't know what to say.
"He must be really lucky," he added,
"to be liked by you."
There was a faint shine in his eyes.
Not fully sadness.
Not fully acceptance.
Something in between.
"…But if he ever hurts you," he said quietly,
"I won't let him get away with it."
I looked at him, surprised.
Then he stepped closer.
Before I could step back completely—
he stopped me.
"…Wait."
I looked at him, confused.
He hesitated for a moment, then reached into his pocket.
"…I was going to give you this earlier," he said quietly.
When he opened his hand—
there was a small necklace.
I blinked in surprise.
"…Jiwoo, this—"
"It's nothing special," he interrupted softly.
"…It just reminded me of that time."
I didn't need to ask which time.
The quiet days we didn't talk about.
He stepped a little closer.
"…Can I?"
I hesitated—
then nodded slowly.
His fingers brushed lightly against my neck as he placed it.
The moment felt… strangely quiet.
"You don't have to keep it," he said after a second.
"…I just wanted you to have it."
I held the small pendant gently.
"…Thank you," I whispered.
He smiled faintly.
But this time—
it didn't reach his eyes.
"…Goodbye, Jia."
Before I could respond, he pulled me into a gentle hug.
I hesitated for a second—
then slowly returned it.
"Take care," he whispered.
And then… he let go.
At the same time—
"Wait, you didn't know?" Yian said.
Sihoon looked at him. "Know what?"
"Jia went to watch a movie with Jiwoo."
For a moment—
he didn't react.
Then suddenly—
he stood up.
"Where?"
By the time he reached—
he saw them.
Standing together.
Close.
From where he stood—
it looked like everything had already been decided.
Like he was too late.
His steps slowed.
Then stopped.
He didn't call out.
Didn't move closer.
Just stood there—
watching.
Something tightened in his chest.
Then quietly—
he turned back.
The distance between them hadn't been far.
But this time—
it felt impossible to cross.