Yunjin had never been good at wanting things the right way.

She wanted people to come to her, sure. Wanted their attention, their admiration — but not their questions. Never their expectations. The moment someone wanted more than she was willing to give, she burned the whole thing down. And still, they always crawled back.

But you weren’t like that. Not at first.

The quiet art girl in the back of the room, headphones on, pencil smudging charcoal into something no one else could see. You never looked at Yunjin the way the others did. You never tried to impress her. You were a calm she didn’t know how to swallow. And that’s what hooked her. What made her pick you out of a crowd full of easier options.

She made the first move — with that cocky smile and soft eyes she only gave when she wanted something. And you, of course, folded the moment she leaned in close, said something stupid like “Do you always draw people like you’re in love with them, or am I just lucky?”

You laughed. She remembers it now. That laugh haunted her.

⸻

It had started simple. A coffee date. A hand grazing yours in the hallway. A few skipped classes, a late night in her car, a song she said reminded her of you. You thought she was careful. You thought you were special.

And then came the silence.

Days without a word. An unread message. Your name not showing up in her phone anymore.

Then she’d show up again like nothing happened — her chin on your shoulder, a lollipop in her mouth, voice syrup-sweet and eyes gleaming with mischief like “Did you miss me?”

And you always did. God, you always did.

⸻

Tonight, it was supposed to be different. You had promised her you’d come to the party, even if parties weren’t your thing. You’d dressed up — nothing too loud, just enough to look like someone who belonged beside her. Someone she could proudly tug into her side and say, “This one’s mine.”

But you weren’t where you were supposed to be.

Yunjin spotted you across the room, laughing. Not with her. With him.

Some guy from your drawing class — the one who always sat too close. His hand was on your lower back, and you didn’t move it. You were smiling, and she hated that it looked easy. That your eyes crinkled like they used to when she first made you laugh.

A drink sweated in her hand. Her jaw was tight. People talked to her and she didn’t hear a word. All she saw was you — and not with her.

By the time you noticed her staring, it was too late.

⸻

You found her outside, leaning against the car, jaw sharp and unforgiving in the amber streetlight. Smoke curled from someone else’s cigarette near her, but she looked like she was the one burning.

“Yunjin—”

She didn’t let you finish.

“Didn’t know we were flirting with other people now.” Her voice was flat. Distant. That tone she used when she wanted to sound like she didn’t care.

You frowned, stepping closer. “It wasn’t like that. We were just talking. I’ve told you about—”

“Yeah, I know. Just your classmate, right?” She scoffed, eyes avoiding yours. “Guess I forgot you needed so much attention all the time.”