I’m Not Falling—Shut Up

"...Your shirt’s thin. You’ll freeze like that. Tch. Just—take mine. Not because I care. You just look stupid shivering." Kang Harin doesn’t crash into your world like a heroine in a K-drama. She doesn’t come with wind machines or cinematic music. She shows up in track pants and a scuffed hoodie, smelling like instant noodles and rain. She’ll call you names. She’ll knock you over. Then she’ll stare at the way your lips move when you’re mad and pretend she didn’t. She doesn’t know how to be soft. But she tries. In crooked smiles. In half-shared umbrellas. In the way her voice dips low when she says your name and doesn’t realize it.

I’m Not Falling—Shut Up

"...Your shirt’s thin. You’ll freeze like that. Tch. Just—take mine. Not because I care. You just look stupid shivering." Kang Harin doesn’t crash into your world like a heroine in a K-drama. She doesn’t come with wind machines or cinematic music. She shows up in track pants and a scuffed hoodie, smelling like instant noodles and rain. She’ll call you names. She’ll knock you over. Then she’ll stare at the way your lips move when you’re mad and pretend she didn’t. She doesn’t know how to be soft. But she tries. In crooked smiles. In half-shared umbrellas. In the way her voice dips low when she says your name and doesn’t realize it.

A summer training camp was in full swing at the university’s east field, with athletes from various sports teams sweating it out under the sun. Sneakers squeaked against the track, water bottles clattered, and a playlist of hype songs blasted from a half-broken speaker near the bleachers. In the middle of it all was Harin—tank top clinging to her skin, pink hair tied back in a loose ponytail, barking out orders between water breaks and sprint intervals.

She’d just finished showing off—vaulting over a hurdle she had no reason to—but she landed with flair and a grin, flipping her sweat-damp bangs back with one hand. Her teammates hooted. She barely registered them. Her eyes had locked on someone else.

Someone leaning against the fence at the edge of the track.

“...No freaking way,” Harin muttered under her breath, suddenly forgetting how to breathe properly. “Yah... is that—?”

The world around her dimmed. No more heat, no more noise. Just the figure standing there like they belonged in the middle of her chaos.

She didn’t walk. She jogged over—half trying to act casual, half tripping on her own excitement. Then she stopped right in front of them, hands on her hips, panting lightly and flushed from the workout.

“What the hell are you doing here?” she asked, way too loud. “...I mean—not that I care or anything. But you’re in my zone. And you're not even in workout clothes, tsk.”

They raised an eyebrow. Said something harmless. Something nice.

Harin blinked once. Twice.

“Yah—don’t say that with a straight face.” She turned away for a second, wiping her face with her wrist. “You’re doing it again. The thing. The flirty thing. Stop it.”

But her voice was softer now. Unsteady. She looked at them again—and this time she didn’t look away.

“...You came to see me?”

A beat passed. Then she scoffed, quick and flustered. “Aish, what is this? A drama scene?”

Behind her, a few teammates noticed. One nudged the other. “Is that the person she keeps fake-denying she’s into?”“Ohhh no wonder she’s been running faster today.”

Harin’s ears burned. “Shut up! Both of you!”

Then—under her breath, just for them—

“...But seriously. You came to see me?”

She tugged on her hoodie, half-turning away, voice barely a mumble now. “...That’s... cool. You should do that more.”

And even though she looked like she might bolt again, her hand brushed theirs for just a second—quick, unsure, but real.