Ha-eun groaned. "Rina..."
"Hi, Rina," Seo-jun said with a soft chuckle.
"Tell him he owes me free concert tickets! And a signed poster! And a dance lesson!" Rina shouted, utterly unbothered.
"Mind your business!" Ha-eun shouted back, her voice muffled.
"She's got priorities," Seo-jun murmured.
"Always," Ha-eun replied , a reluctant smile now threading through her voice.
The tension eased. A softness returned between them.
They slipped into conversation, the small kind that says everything.
He asked if she liked spicy food.
She asked if he got tired of practicing the same dance for hours.
He said he did , until the fans screamed. Then he forgot everything.
She asked, "What's your favorite moment on stage?"
But before he could answer, his second phone buzzed from across the room. Sharp. Insistent.
Only one group called that line.
"Can you hold on for a sec?" he said.
"Sure."
He padded barefoot across the polished floor and picked it up.
Director Kang lit the screen.
He answered.
"Seo-jun," came the clipped voice, "what the hell were you thinking?"
"Good evening to you too, Director-nim."
"Don't get smart. You went to that girl's house."
"I did."
"You know how this looks. The media is circling. Reporters were in her neighborhood today. It's a disaster."
"She didn't ask for any of this, hyung. And it's not her fault the world decided she was a story."
"And it's not your job to fix it," the director snapped. "We'll handle it."
"I don't want you to 'handle' her. I want her to be left alone."
A pause.
"You're getting too involved," Kang said flatly. "Don't forget who you are. Or what's at stake."
"I know exactly who I am," Seo-jun muttered, and hung up.
He returned to the bed and lifted the other phone.
"You still there?"
"Still here," she said.
"Sorry. That was the agency."
"Let me guess. They're furious."
He gave a breath of a laugh. "Understatement of the year."
A quiet settled between them again. Not awkward , just full.
"I know you don't need saving," he said softly. "You never did. But... I needed to hear your voice."
She was silent.
Then—
"...Your voice isn't so bad either."
He blinked. "Really?"
"A bit dramatic. But nice."
He laughed. A small, surprised sound. "I'll take it."
She added, "Still doesn't mean you're forgiven."
"I'll work on it."
In the background, Rina's voice floated through the line again.
"If you don't marry him, I will!"
"Oh my God," Ha-eun groaned. "Ignore her."
"No promises," Seo-jun teased.
They both laughed.
For the first time in days, it felt like breathing.
He checked the time. 1:28 a.m.
"I should let you sleep."
"I should make Rina sleep."
But they lingered.
"Ha-Eunie?"
"Yeah?"
"Can I call again?"
A pause.
"...Maybe."
The call ended with a soft click.
Seo-jun stared at the contact name glowing on his screen.
🌸 Ha-Eunie
He smiled to himself, sank back into the pillows, and let the night finally begin to loosen its grip.
***********
The sun filtered through the pale blue curtains in Ha-eun's room, golden streaks across the floor. She sat at the edge of her bed, staring at her shoes a moment too long. Last night's conversation kept replaying, Seo-jun's voice, softer than expected, tinged with guilt... and something else. Sincerity, maybe. Or just the quiet fact that he'd called again.
"Rina, two seconds!" she shouted toward the door, slipping on her sneakers.
"I'm leaving you behind!" Rina yelled back. "At this rate, Seo-jun might steal you from me!"
Ha-eun groaned. "You're insane."
"And you're late!" Rina giggled.
By the time Ha-eun reached her, Rina stood smugly at the corner, hands stuffed into her cardigan pockets, her expression pure feline mischief.
"You're glowing," she said. "Didn't mention it earlier, but your face is giving I-spoke-to-the-nation's-golden-boy-last-night."
"I'm not glowing."
"Oh, sweetie. You're sparkling. Twilight-era Edward could never."
Ha-eun elbowed her, but she was smiling despite herself.
The streets buzzed with their usual morning rhythm, cyclists, commuters, students. But something had shifted. It wasn't just the glances Ha-eun had grown used to over the years, or Rina's magnetic presence. It was the whispers. The eyes that lingered too long. Phones, half-raised.
She tried to ignore them.
They slipped into class just as Ms. Ngozi began announcing a pop quiz. Rina looked personally betrayed.
"She punishes us for existing," she muttered.
"She's just doing her job," Ha-eun whispered.
"Well, her job hates my right to peace."
By lunch, Ha-eun was already drained, by academics, attention, and the low hum of scrutiny that followed her like perfume. She and Rina took their trays and retreated to their usual spot in the corner of the cafeteria. For a moment, things felt normal again: gossip, greasy rice, Rina's dramatic retellings of classroom horrors.
Then Ha-eun's phone lit up.
Rina leaned forward. "Oh my God."
Seo-jun. Calling.
Ha-eun froze. Her heart kicked hard, then tripped over itself like it wasn't built for this.
She declined the call.
Rina screamed, quietly, but with enough flair to turn a few heads.
"You declined a call from Seo-jun? Like, Seo-jun Seo-jun? Do you want me to faint for you?"
"It's school!" Ha-eun hissed. "What if someone hears—"
"They already heard." Rina nodded toward two girls whispering behind their hands.
Ha-eun buried her face in her hands.
The phone rang again.
Rina narrowed her eyes. "If you don't answer that, I will sell your soul to the nearest talent agency and make you famous by force."
With a groan, Ha-eun picked up.
"Hello?"
His voice was smooth, warm honey over velvet. "Hi. You picked up."
"Yeah. I, uh... did." She tried not to choke on a mouthful of kimchi rice.
"I hope I'm not interrupting anything too important. Unless it was Michelin-star-level cafeteria cuisine. In which case, I'll apologize."
Rina was now openly eavesdropping, chin in her hands, eyes wide.
"No," Ha-eun said, "just cafeteria food. Very edible. Not legendary."
Seo-jun chuckled. "That's a relief. My breakfast was burnt toast and existential dread."
He's funny, too? Unfair.
"I wanted to ask something," he said.
"Okay."
"Would you let me... make it up to you? Just coffee. No media, no cameras. No weirdness. Just... you and me. Talking."
Rina began squeezing Ha-eun's arm like a blood pressure cuff.
Ha-eun hesitated. Her brain screamed don't do it. But her heart had already leapt two scenes ahead, imagining his smile in real time.
"...Okay," she said softly. "Just coffee."