[ Rain's POV ]
When I opened my eyes this morning, I felt a shift deep inside me. The memory of Fran's eyes from last night flashed through my mind, sending my heart into a sudden, confusing panic. I tried to tell myself it was just the morning air, but my pulse wouldn't settle.
I glanced at Fran's bed, expecting it to be empty, but I was shocked when I walked into the living room. Fran was already there, sitting on the sofa, fully dressed for school. Two helmets were already waiting on the table.
"Good morning, Fran. I thought you'd already left."
"I'm leaving in five minutes," he muttered, staring at his phone without looking up. "If you're late, you walk."
He's waiting for me? The thought sent a surge of happiness through me. Instead of cooking, I scrambled into the bathroom to get ready in record time. He dropped me off right in front of my department, and I practically floated to my classroom.
When I walked in, Sean and Michael were huddled together, staring at a phone screen. They looked up at me and then back at each other, looking incredibly suspicious.
"What? What is it?" I asked, sliding into the seat beside Sean.
"Nothing!" they said in unison, hiding the phone immediately.
"Hmm. You two are being very weird today."
Sean looked away, a faint blush creeping up his neck. They were definitely hiding something.
By lunchtime, my stomach reminded me that I'd skipped breakfast to catch my ride with Fran. Sean was pouting across from me.
"I'm sorry, Sean! I woke up late and didn't have time to cook. Lunch is on me today, okay?"
"It's fine," Sean said, though he still looked sulky. "I'll buy it. What do you want?"
He stood up, looking like a giant, disappointed puppy. I laughed and stood up too, offering to go with him. While we were standing in line at the canteen, the atmosphere suddenly turned freezing. Fran's gang was right there, lining up beside us.
An awkward silence fell over the group. Sean and Michael exchanged deathly stares with Fran's friends. I spotted Fran and gave him a friendly smile, but he caught my gaze for a split second before looking away, turning his back on me completely.
Ouch. We sat down at our usual table, the tension still lingering.
"Your childhood friend is such a tsundere," Michael commented, making me nearly choke on my drink.
"What? Where did that come from?"
"I thought you two were still fighting," Michael said, gesturing with a straw. "But he drops you off at school this morning, then treats you like a stranger ten minutes later. Classic push-and-pull."
"How did you even know he dropped me off?"
"Well, look at this." Michael finally showed me the phone. "The university confession page."
My eyes nearly popped out of my head. It wasn't just a post; it was a gallery. There were photos of me riding with Fran this morning, photos of us at the soccer field, and even old photos from our high school days. But what shocked me more were the "sweet" photos of Sean and me—like the time I fed him with my spoon.
"What is this?!"
"People are shipping you, Rain," Michael teased. "There's a whole 'Fan War' in the comments. But don't worry—I'm Team #SeanRain."
I glanced at Sean. He was smiling quietly, avoiding my eyes. He knew. He's been reading this all morning.
The comments were wild. #FranRain supporters were arguing about "childhood destiny," while #SeanRain fans were posting heart emojis over our cafeteria photos.
"When did this even start?" I groaned. "Their imaginations are way too much."
"You really don't realize how famous you are, do you?" Michael laughed.
"I'm not even doing anything!"
"If it bothers you, I can ask the admins to shut the page down," Sean said, his voice dropping into a serious, worried tone.
I looked at him and tapped his shoulder. "It's fine, Sean. As long as they don't cross the line or disturb our privacy, let them have their fun. Don't mind them."
Sean's bitter-sweet smile didn't reach his eyes. "Whos comforting who here?" Michael teased again, and I pinched his arm to shut him up.
The day dragged on, and our last professor finished class incredibly late. The sun was already setting by the time we packed up. But when I stepped out of the room, I froze.
Fran was standing there, leaning against the wall outside our classroom.
"Fran?"
He glanced at Sean, who was standing right next to me, before shifting his eyes to mine. "Let's go," he said.
He didn't wait for an answer. He grabbed my hand and started dragging me toward the parking lot. I managed a quick wave to Sean, who stood there with that same bitter smile.
Once we reached the bike, Fran finally realized he was still holding my hand. He dropped it so fast it was like I'd burned him. He reached for the spare helmet, looking like he was going to put it on me like he did this morning, but then he hesitated. His face went through a flash of confusion and panic.
He shoved the helmet into my chest instead. "Put it on yourself," he snapped, turning his back to start the engine.
Fran was being so... weird and being extra grumpy today.
Every time I moved, he seemed to let out a heavy sigh or glare at nothing in particular. Fine, I thought, let him be a storm cloud.
I sat on the sofa and pulled out my phone. My curiosity finally won out, and I searched for that school page again. I started scrolling, and my heart sank a little when I saw a new video at the top of the feed.
It was from earlier today at the plaza. Sean had been teasing me about something—probably the soup—and I had ended up chasing him around like a kid. The video caught the moment I finally stopped, bent over and panting for breath. Sean had walked back to me with a cheeky grin, reached out, and gently wiped the sweat from my forehead with his sleeve.
The comments were exploding.
"Look at how Sean looks at him!"
"The height difference is everything! Team SeanRain!"
I stared at the screen. To everyone else, it looked romantic. But I knew the truth—Sean only did that because he knew it would make me flustered and give him a chance to call me "weak." He really was just a big, teasing puppy.
I didn't realize I was smiling at the screen until a cold voice snapped me back to reality.
"Is it that funny? Chasing a dog around in public?"
I looked up, my phone still clutched in my hand. Fran was standing by the kitchen counter, his eyes fixed on me with a look that could have curdled milk.
"How did you even know what I was looking at?" I asked, my voice trailing off.
Fran froze. His jaw tightened, and for a split second, I saw a flash of genuine panic in his eyes. He didn't say another word. He just turned around and went back to organizing his bag, his movements jerky and forced.
My heart began to race. A weird thought popped into my head, and I clicked on the "Followers" list of the page. It was a long list, mostly girls from the nursing and arts departments. I scrolled through the 'F's, thinking I was being crazy.
And then I saw it.
Right there, between two random accounts, was his handle. No profile picture, just his name and a private status.
Fran.
He didn't just know about the page. He was one of the people following it. He was watching every "sweet" moment, every comment, and every fan wars?
I looked at his back, my mind spinning. Why would he even follow a page like this?