"I'm sorry… I don't have any feelings for you."
Boom.
It drops out of his mouth so clean, so gentle, so stupidly polite that for a second my brain just… glitches. Like someone unplugged me and plugged me back in wrong. I swear I hear Windows XP restarting inside my skull.
…What did you expect, Jiah?? A proposal??? A bouquet??? A dramatic K-drama slow-mo kiss??? BRO BE SERIOUS—
And then it starts.
The whispers.
"Did she get rejected again?"
"Bro… sixth time?"
"No I think… fifth? No wait didn't she try before midterms—?"
"Is she mad? Like mentally??"
My jaw clenches so hard I could crack a walnut between my molars. I stare at the floor because if I look up, I WILL commit a school crime. My bangs fall into my face like they're trying to shield me from the embarrassment tsunami forming around me.
And all I can think is:
I can hear you morons.
Like literally.
My ears work.
I am not dead.
God, I wish I was though. Just a little. Just enough to respawn somewhere else.
Jiho gives me this small, awkward, guilty smile—like he feels bad rejecting me for the 500th time this year—and then he turns. Just turns. Like he didn't just stab me with a butter knife to the heart five seconds ago.
He walks away.
Slow.
Calm.
Pretty.
Cruel.
And I just… stare at his back. That stupid neat uniform. That stupid perfect posture. His stupid shoulders that stupidly don't like me back.
My throat burns. Not a cute tearful burn—no. It's like swallowing a whole hot potato.
Don't cry, don't cry, don't fucking cry, Jiah. Get your shit together. You've done this before. You're a professional rejectee at this point—
But damn…
this one hurts.
The fifth rejection never hurt like this.
It really didn't.
So why the hell does this one feel like someone stepped on my chest with football cleats??
My mouth opens before my brain can shut it up. "Damn," I whisper under my breath, "he didn't even blink this time. Cold-blooded king."
A group of girls snicker. Someone whispers, "She's actually insane." Another one goes, "I kinda respect her though??" And someone else adds, "No like fr she has main character delusion."
BRO I CAN HEAR YOU.
HELLO???
I stare at the floor harder, like I'm trying to burn a hole into it. Anything to not meet anyone's eyes. My cheeks are hot, my stomach is flipping like it's doing CrossFit, and my soul is packing its bags and leaving my body.
Why?
Why does he not like me?
Why can't he just… I don't know… LIKE ME BACK FOR ONCE??
What's wrong with me??? My face?? My vibe?? My existence?? My tragic timing?? My everything-all-of-the-above??
I take a big inhale and instantly regret it because I can literally smell someone's kimchi lunch from the hallway and THIS IS NOT THE MOMENT FOR FLAVORS.
I mutter, "This is so embarrassing, holy shit," and it echoes in my chest like a sad clown horn.
My knees feel weak. I'm shaking like a baby deer who just learned about taxes.
He said it so fast too. Didn't even hesitate. Not a single microscopic pause. Didn't even go, "Umm…" or "Actually…" or "It's not you—"
NO.
He went straight for the jugular.
"I don't have any feelings for you."
Ugh.
Kill me.
Actually don't, because that's dramatic, but like… lightly run me over? Just a gentle tap with a bus?
I drag my hands down my face and want to yeet myself off the school roof—SLOWLY—so I can think about how stupid I am while falling.
The crowd finally starts to leave, and I just stand there alone, staring at the empty hallway like a rejected NPC.
My chest is tight. My eyes sting. My brain is like, "We're fine 🙂," but my heart is like, "Bitch we are NOT—"
Why doesn't he like me?
I'm not THAT weird… am I??
Okay, yes I talk to myself. And to objects. And I swear at the air sometimes. And I spiral every 3 minutes. And I might have accidentally called him "bro" during my second confession—
BUT STILL.
WHY??
WHY is liking someone this damn complicated?
WHY am I like this???
WHY does my heart choose the one guy who looks at me like I'm a cute but very polite cockroach???
I bite my lip hard enough to taste metal. My chest aches. My pride is bleeding on the floor like roadkill.
This is it.
I hit heartbreak rock bottom.
And the worst part?
…this time, I actually feel it.
Like really feel it.
Heavy.
Real.
Ugly.
I swallow, breathe out slow, and whisper to myself,
"Get over it, Jiah. You idiot."
But my heart whispers back,
I can't.
Not yet.
I'm still staring at the floor like it personally offended me when I feel… a presence.
Actually two presences.
Two tiny storm clouds radiating "we saw the whole thing and we're exhausted."
I slowly look up.
Haerin is standing there with her hands clasped like she's praying for my soul. Her face says "Lord give me strength because this girl is killing me softly."
Bora is beside her with her arms crossed, looking at me the way a mom looks at a kid who stuck a fork in a toaster. Again.
They both sigh. AT THE SAME TIME. IN SYNC.
Like they practiced it.
Haerin shakes her head so slowly it's almost insulting.
Bora mutters, "Bro… again?" like she's genuinely allergic to my decisions.
I pout. Hard. Like Disney-princess-anime-baby-seal pout.
Bora doesn't care. She just throws her arm around my shoulders aggressively, like she's claiming me in a custody battle.
"Come on, baby," she says, dragging me like a limp shopping cart. "We're celebrating this L on the field ground."
"Celebrating??" I croak, being pulled through the hallway like an emotional mop.
"Yes," Bora snaps, "because at this point your heartbreak has become a seasonal festival and me and Haerin deserve snacks."
HAERIN DOESN'T EVEN DENY IT.
She just follows behind us, tired but supportive like the world's softest, prettiest bodyguard.
We reach the field ground, find an empty bench, and Bora shoves me down onto it like I'm a malfunctioning robot she's returning to customer service.
Haerin quietly sits beside me, opens her bag, and takes out… a strawberry milk.
She holds it out with this gentle, mom-friend energy that makes my chest ache.
"For you," she says softly.
I stare at the drink like it's holding the answers to life.
Then I sigh. Long. Deep. Dramatic. Stupid.
"…Am I ugly?" I whisper.
Haerin opens her mouth like she's gonna comfort me.
Bora goes, "Yes."
I turn to her so fast my neck cracks.
She's looking at me dead serious like she just diagnosed me.
I narrow my eyes.
She bursts out laughing.
"ARE YOU MAD?? SEO JIAH??" she screams, literally smacking my arm. "GET YOURSELF TOGETHER. You are a FINE. ASS. SHYT. And you're out here chasing a PLASTIC—"
"Don't call my Jiho that," I say, hugging the strawberry milk like it's my emotional support animal.
Bora immediately raises a middle finger at me.
Then another one for good measure.
"This is for you AND your Jiho," she growls. "Girl LET GO OF THAT IDIOT. He rejected you faster than my dad leaves when I ask for money."
I gasp like she just slapped me with a fish.
Haerin gives Bora the "Don't" look.
The mom look.
The "stop roasting the emotionally unstable child" look.
Bora groans, drops her shoulders, and sits on my other side on the bench like a sulky cat.
Haerin pats my knee.
"It's okay," she says gently. "We can… try again. Later. When your heart feels less like it got run over by the bus multiple times."
I groan into my hands.
"I don't want to try again. I want to uninstall myself."
Bora snorts. "Well too bad, your dumb ass has auto-updates."
I want to cry and laugh and stab her all at once.
I take a sip of the strawberry milk.
It's sweet.
Too sweet.
My heart is bitter.
Too bitter.
"Why doesn't he like me?" I mumble. "Am I glitching? Is there something wrong with my face? My aura? My whole… existence package?"
Bora slaps my back. HARD.
"You're not the problem. That man is BLIND. And also soft. And boring. He probably alphabetizes his socks."
Haerin nods. "He does look like someone who irons his pillowcases."
My lips twitch.
Okay… that makes me feel 1% better.
Just a tiny embarrassing crumb of healing.
I lean my head on Haerin's shoulder. Bora leans her head on mine.
We're a three-idiot sandwich of emotional damage.
And I whisper, exhausted and tiny,
"…I hate love."
Bora snorts. "Same."
Haerin smiles softly. "Same."
And for the first time today…
I don't feel alone.
I stare at the strawberry milk again.
This dumb little pink drink.
My comfort juice.
My emotional support beverage.
My "life sucks so drink sugar" routine.
And of course my brain goes straight to him.
Because why suffer normally when I can suffer EXTRA.
Baek. Jiho.
Baek freaking Jiho who looks like he was handcrafted in a lab by scientists who wanted to create the perfect gentle boy next door. Handsome as hell, smart as hell, kind as hell. The guy who literally helped an old lady carry groceries last month and everyone swooned like he was Jesus part two.
My first crush EVER.
The first guy who made me stare like an idiot at his side profile for a whole year.
The first guy who smiled at me once and I misinterpreted it like a clown.
The one I've been crushing on for exactly one year.
Like literally one year.
I remember the date.
WHY DO I REMEMBER THE DATE???
Stupid hormonal brain.
And the one who has now rejected me…
I count on my fingers like a math dropout.
"…one, two, three… five—no six," I mutter.
SIX TIMES.
SIX.
NOT EVEN SPECIAL NUMBER.
NOT EVEN LUCKY.
JUST STUPID.
"He rejected me six times," I say out loud without meaning to.
Bora makes a dying-whale noise. "Bro we KNOW. The whole SCHOOL knows."
Haerin pats my back like I'm going through a breakup even though I never even got to the relationship part.
"He always says the same thing too," I whisper, staring down at my drink like it holds trauma flashbacks. "He doesn't even mix it up. Doesn't hesitate. No blinking. No thinking. Just—" I mimic his voice, "'I don't have any feelings for you.'"
Bora cringes so hard she turns into a fist. "STOP QUOTING HIM. I'M GETTING SECOND-HAND HEARTBREAK."
But I keep going because my brain wants to self-destruct today.
"And I keep chasing him. Like an idiot. Like a…I don't know… like a Roomba stuck under a couch."
Haerin laughs softly, "You really are stuck."
"And I KNOW it's embarrassing!" I say, louder this time. "I KNOW I look like a clown. I know the whole school thinks I'm insane. I know Jiho probably thinks I'm some persistent NPC who spawns just to confess to him."
Bora snorts. "Honestly that tracks."
"I want to STOP," I say, slamming the strawberry milk onto my lap. "I swear, I want to SO BAD. I want to delete this entire crush from my brain. Like—factory reset my heart. Control-alt-delete the whole emotion system."
"So do it," Bora says.
"I CAN'T."
My voice cracks like a cheap bluetooth speaker.
And it pisses me off.
"What the hell is wrong with me?" I say, dragging my hand down my face aggressively. "Why can't I stop? Why does my heart act like he's oxygen or something? I don't know if this is love or hormones or a weird year-long delusion or maybe I hit my head last year and never recovered."
Bora nods seriously. "Honestly? I wouldn't rule out brain damage."
I flip her off.
Haerin gives me a small sympathetic smile. "You don't have to force yourself to understand everything right now. Sometimes feelings are just… feelings."
"Yeah but MY feelings are stupid," I say. "Like clinically stupid. Should be studied by scientists stupid."
I stare at the field. Kids running. Laughing. Living normal lives. Meanwhile I'm here unraveling like a loose thread on a cheap sweater.
"Is this love?" I mumble. "Is this what love is supposed to feel like? Or is this just… me being obsessed? Cringey? Mentally unstable? Like—what is wrong with me?"
Bora throws her arm over my shoulder again. "Girl. Nothing's wrong with you. You're just dramatic."
Haerin nods. "Very dramatic."
"But lovable," Bora adds.
"…barely," Haerin whispers, and I slap her thigh.
I lean back, exhale long and broken.
"I hate this," I say. "I hate liking him. I hate how he makes me feel. I hate how I can't control it. I hate how my stupid heart is like 'hehe still love him' even after getting drop-kicked six times."
Bora hums. "Honestly? You'll get over him."
"When?"
She shrugs. "…eventually."
Haerin hands me another strawberry milk from her bag like she prepared for my meltdown in advance.
I crack it open, take a sip, and mutter into the straw,
"…I'm so down bad it's actually humiliating."
And they both pat my head like I'm a wounded farm animal.
God.
I'm so sick.
I lean back against the bench and stare up at the sky like it personally owes me therapy.
Clouds drifting. Blue. Calm. Pretty.
Meanwhile inside me it's like 47 raccoons fighting in a trash can.
And of course, because my brain is a stupid little gremlin, it decides to rewind to the EXACT moment everything started.
The first day of school.
Raining like God was dumping a bucket on the entire city for fun.
Me, standing outside the school gate like an idiot with no umbrella because I forgot it… again. My uniform already soaked, my hair sticking to my face like seaweed.
And then—
Out of nowhere—
Someone ran up to me.
Not walked.
Not jogged.
RAN. Full-on sprint.
Before I could even register it, a big black umbrella was shoved into my hands.
I blinked up.
Baek Jiho.
Smiling. Soft. Polite. Like the rain wasn't trying to kill him.
"You'll catch a cold," he said.
And then—THE AUDACITY—he ran into the school with NO UMBRELLA.
Like a drenched golden retriever in uniform.
Who does that??
Who???
WHAT KIND OF MAN DOES CHARITY LIKE THAT???
My heart did a weird thump. Like a clogged pipe. I swear something exploded inside me.
And from that day, I noticed him.
Everywhere.
In the hallway.
In the cafeteria.
Smiling.
Breathing.
Existing.
And I was like "wow amazing… spectacular… phenomenal…"
Then I found out his name.
Baek. Jiho.
My downfall. My villain origin story.
And then… my pathetic self decided to confess to him.
FIRST TIME. ROOFTOP.
Because apparently I thought I was the main character of a drama.
He rejected me.
Gently. Politely. Painfully.
And SOMEONE—some fucking snake—spread it around the whole school before I even climbed back down the stairs.
And then the next five confessions???
Same ending.
Same rejection.
Same humiliation.
Same stupid me.
I sigh so loudly it sounds like a dying vacuum cleaner.
"At this point," I think staring at the sky, "even I think I'm insane."
And then—
Something snaps inside me.
I stand up. FAST.
Bora and Haerin FLINCH like I just pulled out a weapon.
I slam the strawberry milk onto the bench so hard it makes a crack sound.
Then I scream.
"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHH—"
My scream echoes across the field like a distressed seagull.
And then—
THWAK.
Something hits my head.
HARD.
I stumble forward.
Almost face-plant.
Stars. Actual stars. The cartoon kind.
"THE FUCK?!" I choke out, grabbing my head.
Bora gasps. "BRO YOU GOT SNIPED??"
Haerin crouches like she's ready to perform first aid or an exorcism.
We all whip around, looking for the culprit.
And on the ground next to me is—
A BALL.
A big, orange basketball.
Just sitting there like "hehe got her."
My eye twitches.
Bora picks it up like she's about to throw hands with someone's entire bloodline.
"WHO THE HELL—" she starts yelling toward the field.
And then I see him.
Standing in the middle of the court.
Tall.
Cold.
Detached.
Expression unreadable like he was carved out of stone.
The school's most popular boy.
Walking red flag but also walking magazine cover.
Silent menace.
Tall as hell.
Pretty face.
Pretty eyes.
Pretty everything.
And worst of all—
THE ONE I SIT NEXT TO EVERY DAY.
IN THE BACK.
RIGHT NEXT TO HIS STUPID WINDOW SEAT FACE.
My seatmate.
YU ENHYEOK