Lee Han-jae's POV
A girl, huh?
Not surprising.
It happens too often to surprise me anymore.
I don't know what they see in me—maybe the face, maybe the silence, maybe the thrill of thinking they can change someone who doesn't look like he needs anyone.
Whatever it is, I've stopped questioning it.
Attention isn't bad. Sometimes it's useful.
Smirk.
---
Class ended, and during lunch, I watched them—Beom-soo and his little trio—leaving together.
Loud laughter, arms slung over shoulders, half-arguing about snacks and soda. They were talking about Nam-woo's sister again. Apparently, she was throwing a tantrum to transfer into our class.
"For what?" someone asked.
"For him," Nam-woo had said, pointing subtly at me.
That got a laugh out of Do-won. Tae-min didn't laugh. Beom-soo didn't say anything.
I didn't go with them.
I stayed back, leaning in my seat, arms folded as I watched them fade down the hallway.
I wanted to follow—sure.
But I also wanted to see him alone.
That would be easier without his entire fan club orbiting him like satellites.
So I waited.
And sighed.
---
The next day, it happened.
Nam-woo's sister transferred.
Younger by a year, apparently, but smart enough to leap up a grade.
She walked in with her uniform perfectly ironed, hair done just right, confidence wrapped around her like perfume.
She scanned the room once—and locked eyes with me.
I didn't return the smile.
She got the seat behind Beom-soo.
The exact one I hadn't been given when I transferred.
Interesting.
Should I ask to switch?
No.
That would be too obvious.
Too loud.
I don't like sharing—but I hate attention when I haven't asked for it.
So I let it go.
For now.
---
Later, I spotted him sitting alone.
It was rare.
The others had probably been pulled into a club meeting, or maybe Tae-min had gotten distracted with his fan following. Whatever the reason, Beom-soo was alone at his desk, his head resting on his hand, staring down at his notebook like the pages bored him.
I didn't think.
I just walked over.
Dropped into the seat beside him.
"Hey," I said casually. "Lonely?"
He looked at me. No expression. Eyes tired.
"Bored," he replied.
I leaned back in the chair, letting my leg brush his slightly—barely.
"Let's hang out sometime," I said with a slow smirk. "Just you and me."
He blinked, not pulling away.
"Where?" he asked, voice neutral.
"Just to eat, I guess. You like free food, right?"
No response.
But I caught it—that tiny shift in his lips.
The ghost of a grin. The kind of smile that wasn't meant to be seen.
And then, a nod.
My chest tightened with something sharp and satisfying.
He didn't say yes.
He didn't have to.
I had him.
Even if he didn't know it yet.
Weekend.
For most, it meant rest. For me?
It meant him.
Beom-soo.
---
He was already waiting when I arrived—standing near the arcade entrance, hands in his hoodie pockets, his bangs falling a little over his eyes like usual.
He didn't look impatient.
Didn't look nervous.
Just... there.
Waiting.
Like I was always supposed to show up.
I walked over, shoving my hands into my coat pockets.
"Let's go," I said casually.
He didn't reply, just fell into step beside me.
That was enough.
---
We spent the next five hours locked inside a gaming store.
Two headsets. Two screens. A chaotic voice chat where strangers shouted over each other, commands flung like knives, digital bullets flying.
But all I heard was him.
Beom-soo.
Laughing.
Complaining.
Shouting in mock frustration when someone sniped him from behind.
> "WHAT?! Are you kidding me—AGAIN?!"
I chuckled, unable to help myself.
His voice was sharp and loud and completely unguarded in that moment.
Beom-soo turned to me, eyes narrowed.
"What's so funny?"
I shook my head, biting back another laugh.
"Nothing. Maybe."
He huffed, turning back to his screen, muttering something under his breath.
But the corners of his mouth twitched.
---
By the time we stumbled out, it was past five. The sun had dipped behind the buildings, shadows crawling across the pavement. We were both worn out, limbs dragging, stomachs rumbling like broken speakers.
"Food?" he asked bluntly.
Before I could answer, he led the way into a fried chicken place around the corner.
He didn't even look at the menu.
Just pointed. "Everything from the top row. Extra sauce."
My brows raised. "You sure we can finish all that?"
He glanced at me like I'd just asked the dumbest question in the world.
"This is nothing compared to what I eat daily."
I laughed—out loud this time.
"Seriously? How the hell do you eat like that and still look—"
I stopped myself.
Too late.
My eyes had already drifted toward his body—lean, toned, almost too perfect for someone who devoured fried food like a professional.
I stared a second too long.
My face warmed instantly.
I turned away quickly, pretending to read the sauce options stuck to the counter.
God. Please tell me he didn't notice.
He didn't say anything.
Maybe he didn't see.
I exhaled.
---
When the food came, we dug in like wolves.
It was messy and hot and perfect.
Bites turned into conversations. Conversations turned into laughter.
We didn't leave a single bone on the plate.
I hadn't eaten that much in years.
I hadn't felt this much in even longer.
---
Before we parted, I said, "Let me see your phone."
He blinked. "Why?"
"So I can text myself, dumbass."
He rolled his eyes, handed it over.
I punched in my number.
"Now you can spam me with your scream-audio from today," I said.
He grinned—small but real.
---
The next morning, something felt... off.
It started like a normal day. I was doodling in my notebook during a free period, zoning out to the dull sound of the fan above the chalkboard.
Then I felt it.
The stare.
That particular heaviness in the air when someone's eyes are glued to you.
I'd felt it too many times before—admirers, gossipers, haters. You get used to it after a while.
So at first, I ignored it.
But this time, it didn't stop.
It got worse.
Sticky. Relentless.
I finally looked up.
Everyone was busy—talking, writing, arguing over club meetings.
Except one.
Her.
Nam-woo's sister.
She was sitting behind Beom-soo, but her eyes weren't on him.
They were on me.
Every time I turned away, I could feel her sneaking glances. Quick, sharp, obsessive.
It was starting to piss me off.
---
During lunch, I pulled Nam-woo aside.
"Your sister," I said flatly. "She's been staring."
He blinked. "Huh?"
"Like... all morning. It's getting uncomfortable."
He looked genuinely surprised. "Seriously? I didn't notice anything weird. She hasn't said anything either."
I narrowed my eyes. "Well, she needs to stop."
Nam-woo scratched the back of his neck, awkward.
"I'll try talking to her... but she doesn't always listen."
Great.
Exactly what I needed.
A teenage girl thinking she's in love.
With me.
I sighed, irritated.
Guess I'll have to handle it myself.
Because I don't like being watched like a prize.
Especially not when the only person I want watching me...
is Beom-soo.