Chapter Text
Jeonghan tapped his pencil against the edge of his notebook, eyes flickering to the clock above the classroom door, 4:57 PM. Three minutes until the final bell, three minutes until Seungcheol was supposed to meet him outside the school gates. Three minutes until—his phone buzzed on the desk. He flipped it over, already dreading the message he knew would be there.
Seungcheol: Practice is running late again. Sorry, babe.
Jeonghan let out a quiet sigh, ignoring the way his chest tightened. Again. He knew Seungcheol wasn’t doing it on purpose, but lately, football had taken over every part of their lives. There were no more after-school walks, lazy weekends spent at each other’s houses, or late-night phone calls just to hear each other breathe. It was always practice, workouts, or meetings with scouts.
Their love story was loud. From the moment Seungcheol stepped into Carat Land High, he was already a name people knew. He had been a star athlete in middle school, and as the youngest player to make the varsity football team, his popularity skyrocketed. Everyone wanted to be around him—the coaches, the seniors, the students who watched him like he was already some kind of legend.
Jeonghan, on the other hand, had arrived at Carat Land High with none of that. He was a transfer student from a prestigious private school, thrown into the public school system by his father, who insisted that it would “build character.” But no amount of wealth could buy an easy transition. His sharp tongue and expensive taste didn’t exactly make him many friends at first, and most students saw him as a rich kid who didn’t belong.
It all changed one afternoon when Jeonghan was sitting by the bleachers, absentmindedly scrolling through his phone, when a football came flying straight at him. He barely had time to react before it smacked him right in the face. The impact made his vision blur for a moment, and when he looked up, a panting, sweaty Seungcheol was already crouching in front of him.
“Oh my god, are you okay?”
Jeonghan blinked, still dazed. “Do I look okay?”
Seungcheol grinned like he hadn’t just nearly knocked him unconscious. “I’ll make it up to you.”
Jeonghan raised an eyebrow, his hand still resting on his forehead where he’d been hit. “By staying out of my sight?”
“No,” Seungcheol said, his grin widening. “By taking you out on a date. A nice one. Dinner, maybe a walk under the stars.” He stepped a little closer, his eyes subtly checking Jeonghan over, making sure he was okay. His gaze softened for a moment, lingering on Jeonghan’s hand still pressed against his forehead. “And I promise, no accidental headbutts this time.”
Jeonghan scoffed, caught off guard by the sudden closeness. “Not happening.”
Seungcheol didn’t look the least bit discouraged. But before he could say anything else, a voice interrupted them.
“If you don’t want to go out with him, how about me?”
Jeonghan turned to see Mingyu, one of the school’s basketball players, leaning against the bleachers with his usual lazy grin. He wasn’t even part of the football team—he had just been watching practice—but apparently, he had decided to join in on the fun.
Jeonghan rolled his eyes. “Absolutely not,” he said, shaking his head. “I don’t need another kind of ball hitting me in the head today, thank you very much.”
That should have been the end of it. But in a school like Carat Land High, drama spread faster than wildfire. Within hours, rumors circulated that Jeonghan had turned down not just Seungcheol but also Mingyu, one of the most popular basketball players.
And just like that, Jeonghan became a legend.
Football players started asking him out left and right, some as a joke, some seriously, and some just to see if they could be the ones to get a yes out of him. It was ridiculous. It was annoying. The worst part? They weren’t doing it because they actually liked him but because it was the hot topic of the moment. Some of them even posted TikToks asking Jeonghan out, as if it was some kind of challenge or trend. Jeonghan couldn’t help but roll his eyes every time he saw his name tagged or heard another one of those absurd requests. As quickly as the trend had started, it fizzled out. Once the novelty wore off, everyone stopped trying.
But one person never stopped.
Seungcheol.
Unlike the others, he didn’t just throw cheesy pickup lines at Jeonghan for fun. He showed up. He greeted Jeonghan in the hallways, saved him a seat at lunch, offered him his jacket when it got cold at football games, and always—always—looked at him like he was someone worth chasing.
And before Jeonghan realized it, he liked being chased.
So, one day, after months of stubbornness, he finally caved.
“Fine. One date,” Jeonghan had said, arms crossed, eyes sharp.
Seungcheol had grinned like he just won the lottery. “You won’t regret it.”
He didn’t.
Their first date was a mess—but it was perfect in its own way.
Seungcheol had picked out a nice, romantic restaurant for their first date—one of those expensive and high-end places where parents celebrate anniversaries. He was excited, thinking this would be the perfect spot to impress Jeonghan. But when they arrived, the hostess gave them a curious look before telling them they needed a reservation. Seungcheol blinked, his face flushing with embarrassment. “I didn’t know we needed one,” he mumbled, fumbling for words.
“It’s fine, Cheol. We can figure something out,” Jeonghan smiled, reassuring Seungcheol it was okay. So, instead of sulking, they left the restaurant and strolled down the street. As they walked, they passed a small ice cream shop, and Jeonghan’s eyes lit up. “How about ice cream instead?” he suggested with a grin.
Seungcheol couldn’t help but smile, grateful for Jeonghan’s easygoing attitude. “Ice cream sounds perfect.”
They stepped into the shop, the bell above the door chiming as they entered. The cozy little place was filled with the sweet, comforting scent of waffle cones and fresh fruit toppings. They picked their flavors—strawberry for Jeonghan and chocolate for Seungcheol—and sat on a bench outside, enjoying the simple pleasure of the sweet treat. They chatted easily, laughing about random things, and before they knew it, the evening was getting darker.
On their way home, they wandered into a nearby park where Seungcheol pushed Jeonghan on the swings, joking about who could swing higher. They raced around the playground, teasing each other as they tried to outdo one another. By the time they reached Jeonghan’s house, the night had turned cool. Seungcheol stopped at the doorstep, a little shy but happy. “Sorry about the restaurant,” he said with a sheepish grin. “I didn’t know about the reservation thing.”
“It’s okay, Cheol. Honestly, I wouldn’t have changed a thing.”
“I hope you had fun at least,” Seungcheol said, his voice low, a hint of warmth and hope in his words.
Jeonghan smiled, that familiar mischievous sparkle in his eyes. “Yeah. Who knew you could actually be charming?”
Seungcheol grinned, leaning in just a little closer, his voice playful. “Well, I’m glad to have finally won you over.”
Jeonghan chuckled, but there was something soft in his smile. “You never gave up, did you?”
“Never,” Seungcheol replied, his voice serious for the first time that evening. “I like you a lot, Yoon Jeonghan.”
Jeonghan’s heart fluttered that warmth spreading through him again. It wasn’t just the date. It was the way Seungcheol looked at him—like he was worth it. Like he mattered. “Guess I’m stuck with you, huh?” Jeonghan teased, his tone light but his heart racing.
Seungcheol laughed, stepping a little closer, his hands finding Jeonghan’s. “I’m not complaining if you aren’t.”
Jeonghan looked up at him, the soft porch light casting a golden glow over Seungcheol’s face. His fingers tightened slightly around Seungcheol’s hands, heart thudding a little too fast in his chest. “I’m not,” he whispered, barely meeting his eyes.
Seungcheol let out a nervous breath, his smile faltering just enough to reveal how unsure he suddenly felt. “Can I—um…” He hesitated, scratching the back of his neck with his free hand. “Would it be okay if I… kissed you?”
Jeonghan’s cheeks turned a shade pinker, and he ducked his head for a second before nodding. “Yeah… just don’t mess it up.”
That made Seungcheol laugh, the tension easing for a moment. “No pressure, huh?”
He leaned in, slow and cautious, until their foreheads almost touched. Then, in a breath of a moment, their lips met—just a brief, gentle press. A tender, almost kiss that lingered in feeling more than in time. It wasn’t perfect—more shy than smooth—but it was warm and real, and Jeonghan found himself smiling into it.
When they pulled back, Jeonghan’s smile was small but warm, his face flushed. Seungcheol looked a little dazed like he couldn’t believe it actually happened. “So… second date?” he asked, voice cracking slightly.
Jeonghan giggled, covering his mouth, eyes shining. “You’re lucky you’re cute.”
And just like that, freshman year was theirs. Sophomore year was even better. By junior year, they were the school’s golden couple—Jeonghan, effortlessly beautiful and sharp-witted, and Seungcheol, the heart of the football team. They were loud, confident, and completely in love.
But now, in their senior year, something had shifted. Seungcheol was still Seungcheol—the school’s football star, the guy who could light up a room with his energy, the boyfriend who once made Jeonghan feel like he was the center of his world. But now, football was his world.
It started small—missed calls, late replies. Jeonghan didn’t mind at first. Seungcheol was busy; he got that. But then came the canceled dates, the rushed conversations, and the way Seungcheol would show up to school exhausted, barely sparing him more than a quick kiss before running off to practice.
At first, Jeonghan told himself not to be selfish.
“It’s his future on the line.”
“He’s doing this for his scholarship.”
“Just be patient.”
But patience had a limit. There was no more waiting outside the locker room after practice because Seungcheol always had extra drills. No more sneaking out for late-night snacks because Seungcheol was too tired to stay up. No more whispered conversations in the hallway between classes because Seungcheol was either with his team or too distracted thinking about the next game.
And the worst part? Seungcheol didn’t even seem to notice how much he was slipping away. Jeonghan couldn’t say anything because he wanted to be supportive. He wanted to be the kind of boyfriend who understood, didn’t complain, and stood by Seungcheol’s side even when things got tough. After all, wasn’t this what love was supposed to be?
Cheers erupted outside the classroom, jolting Jeonghan out of his thoughts. Confused, he glanced toward the window as his classmates excitedly packed up their things, murmuring about the commotion. He caught snippets of conversation—something about Hoshi and Wonwoo. Had Hoshi really just asked Wonwoo out? That didn’t make sense. He thought Soonyoung was the one who liked Wonwoo.
Jeonghan sighed like he couldn’t be bothered by other people’s drama when he had his own dilemma. He carefully tucked his notebook into his bag—taking his time since he didn’t have anywhere to be anymore.
“Hey, Jeonghan!”
He looked up to see Hyungwon leaning against the doorway, a lazy smile on his lips. Tall, effortlessly cool, and always friendly, Hyungwon had transferred to Carat High a few weeks ago and somehow managed to slide into their friend group with ease. “Walking home alone again?” Hyungwon asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Guess so,” Jeonghan muttered, adjusting the strap of his bag.
Hyungwon tsked. “Tough. Your boyfriend’s seriously slacking in the doting department.”
Jeonghan rolled his eyes, but the jab stung more than it should. “It’s not his fault. He’s just busy.”
“Mm-hmm.” Hyungwon pushed off the doorframe. “Since you’re free, want to grab something to eat? I hear the new café down the block has those overpriced pastries you like.”
Jeonghan hesitated. He should probably go home, finish his homework, maybe call Seungcheol later, and pretend he wasn’t hurt. But the thought of sitting alone in his room, scrolling through old messages and waiting for a reply that might never come, felt worse.
“Sure,” he said, forcing a smile. “Let’s go.”
xxx
Seungcheol was exhausted. Their practice had run late again, with Coach drilling them through extra plays like their entire season depended on it—which, in a way, it did. It was senior year, the most important season of his life. College scouts were watching. Scholarships were on the line. There was no room for mistakes.
Every spare moment he had went to football.
Lunch? Spent reviewing plays with the team.
Free periods? Extra drills.
Evenings? More training, more strategy, more pressure.
By the time Seungcheol finally made it to the locker room, all he wanted was a hot shower and Jeonghan. He wanted to wrap himself around his boyfriend, bury his face in Jeonghan’s shoulder, and just breathe. Jeonghan was the better part of his day—the part that made everything feel lighter and reminded him why all this hard work was worth it.
He could already picture it: walking home together, their hands brushing, Jeonghan rambling about his day, teasing him for being sweaty, making some dramatic complaint about how hard school was. Then they’d end up at Jeonghan’s house, sprawled out on his bed, music playing softly in the background as Jeonghan absentmindedly ran his fingers through Seungcheol’s hair.
That was what Seungcheol wanted. Just that. He grabbed his phone as he toweled his hair dry, already expecting to see a flood of notifications. Normally, by now, Jeonghan would’ve sent a dozen texts—updates about his day, complaints about boring classes, maybe a few selfies just because he knew Seungcheol liked them.
But tonight? Nothing.
Seungcheol frowned, refreshing his messages. Still no texts. No calls. No selfies. Just silence. His fingers hovered over the call button, but the locker room door slammed open before he could press it.
“Seungcheol!” Mingyu burst in, grinning like an idiot.
Seungcheol sighed. “What now?”
Mingyu practically bounced on his feet. “It finally happened!”
“What?”
“Jeonghan finally realized what a douchebag you are and replaced you with the new guy from France.”
Seungcheol froze. What?
Mingyu smirked and shoved his phone in Seungcheol’s face. “See for yourself.”
On the screen was a photo—Jeonghan standing outside a café, holding a mint chocolate chip ice cream cone as if posing for the camera. It was posted on Hyungwon’s Instagram. Seungcheol frowned. “So? It’s just ice cream.”
Mingyu snorted. “Yeah, but when was the last time you took Jeonghan out for ice cream?”
The question caught Seungcheol off guard, hitting him harder than he expected. It couldn’t have been that long, could it? Jeonghan loved ice cream. And Seungcheol never missed a chance to spoil him, indulging every craving without hesitation. Late-night drives to their favorite ice cream shop where they had their first date, spontaneous detours after school, even sneaking out during study sessions just to get a scoop of Jeonghan’s favorite flavor—those moments had been theirs. So why did it feel like forever since the last time? He opened his messages again, scrolling up to their last conversation.
Seungcheol: Practice is running late again. Sorry, babe.
That was it. That was the last thing he sent. Jeonghan hadn’t even replied.
“Relax, man,” Mingyu said, flopping onto the bench beside him. “I was just messing with you. I’m sure Jeonghan isn’t replacing you.” He paused, then smirked. “Yet.”
Seungcheol shot him a glare, but Mingyu’s teasing barely registered. His mind was still stuck on that picture. On Jeonghan outside that café, holding an ice cream cone he didn’t even like. He likes strawberry flavor. He had gone out with someone else—probably just a friend, but still. And then there were Mingyu’s words, playing over and over in his head. He wasn’t sure when the last time was that he had asked Jeonghan to go out for ice cream.
It was the weekend, and Jeonghan was excited. After hanging out with Hyungwon, he returned home to find Seungcheol sitting on the front steps of his house, lazily twirling a pint of ice cream in his hands. The dim streetlamp cast a warm glow over him, highlighting the slight furrow in his brow and the way his shoulders slumped ever so slightly. He looked like he had been sitting there for a while. Jeonghan hesitated. Seungcheol rarely ever came over unannounced these days. As he got closer, Seungcheol stood, holding out the tub. “For you. Figured you probably didn’t enjoy the mint chocolate.”
Jeonghan blinked, surprised. He looked down at the ice cream—strawberry, his favorite. A slow smile crept onto his lips. So he had seen the post. He peeled back the lid, scooping a bite with the mini spoon that came with it. The cold sweetness melted on his tongue as he glanced up at Seungcheol, eyes twinkling. “Are you jealous?” he teased, licking the spoon clean.
Seungcheol scoffed, stuffing his hands into his pockets. “What would I even be jealous of? Hyungwon? Please.”
Jeonghan grinned, bumping shoulders with him. “I didn’t say who.”
Seungcheol rolled his eyes, but he didn’t deny it. For a moment, it felt like old times—easy, playful. Jeonghan had missed this, the little moments when Seungcheol wasn’t too tired or too distracted. He nudged Seungcheol toward the door. “Come up to my room for a bit?”
But Seungcheol shook his head. “Can’t. Coach wants us in early tomorrow.”
Jeonghan tried to hide his disappointment, but Seungcheol must have noticed. Before he could say anything, Seungcheol reached out, ruffling his hair with a grin. “But let’s spend the weekend together. Just us,” he said, his voice softer now, almost like a promise.
Before Jeonghan could respond, Seungcheol pulled him into a hug, his arms wrapping around him tightly. The warmth was familiar, just like it had always been. Jeonghan hesitated for a second before sinking into the embrace, closing his eyes. That made up for it.
“Movie date?” Jeonghan asked, his voice muffled against Seungcheol’s shoulder as he tightened his arms around him. The familiar scent of Seungcheol’s cologne mixed with the cool night air, and for a moment, it felt like everything might just be okay.
Seungcheol chuckled softly, his chest rumbling against Jeonghan’s cheek. “Of course. Just us and terrible rom-coms.” Jeonghan smiled, his heart easing as he pulled back slightly to look at Seungcheol, his eyes softening. “You know I only watch them for you,” Seungcheol said with a teasing grin.
Jeonghan laughed, shaking his head. “But I think you secretly enjoy them too,” he said, his tone light and playful. “Don’t pretend you don’t.”
“Maybe,” Seungcheol admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “But I like the company more.”
Jeonghan’s heart fluttered at the tenderness in Seungcheol’s words. He was about to reply when Seungcheol leaned in and placed a soft kiss on his lips. It was brief but filled with warmth, a simple gesture that made everything feel right.
When Saturday came, Jeonghan was up early, too eager to stay in bed any longer. He rummaged through his closet before settling on his favorite sweater—the soft, oversized one that Seungcheol had once said made him look extra huggable. A small smile played on his lips as he smoothed out the fabric, imagining Seungcheol’s arms wrapped around him later.
He even took the time to style his hair, making sure it looked effortlessly perfect. Not that Seungcheol ever minded—he always claimed Jeonghan looked good no matter what—but today felt special, and Jeonghan wanted to look his best.
The trip to the mall felt longer than usual, and the excitement bubbling in his chest made each step feel lighter. He imagined the night ahead: the two of them sharing popcorn, whispering commentary during the movie, Seungcheol laughing at him whenever he got too invested in the romance. But when he arrived at the theater, his excitement flickered. He scanned the crowd, expecting to see Seungcheol waiting with that easy smile of his.
Nothing.
Jeonghan pulled out his phone, unlocking it with a quick swipe. No messages. His smile dimmed as he checked the time. Maybe Seungcheol was running late. That wasn’t unusual. Frowning, he tapped out a message.
Jeonghan: Hey, I’m here. Are you on your way?
He hit send and stared at the screen, waiting for the familiar read receipt to pop up.
Seconds passed. Then minutes.
Still nothing.
He waited a few more minutes before sending another.
Jeonghan: Daddu?
Still nothing.
As the minutes dragged on, his excitement slowly faded into frustration. He tapped his foot impatiently, refreshing his messages over and over. Until finally—an entire hour later—he gave up. Just as he was about to leave, a familiar voice called out.
“Jeonghan?”
He looked up to see Hyungwon standing a few feet away, holding a soda in one hand, his other casually tucked into his jacket pocket. Beside him was a friend Jeonghan had seen once or twice at school.
“What are you doing here alone?” Hyungwon asked, tilting his head.
Jeonghan exhaled through his nose, gripping his phone tightly. Waiting for my boyfriend, who didn’t even bother to text me back. Instead, he forced a small shrug. “Just thought I’d watch a movie.”
Hyungwon smiled. “We were about to watch one too. Want to join us?”
Jeonghan glanced at his phone one last time—still nothing from Seungcheol. He slid it into his pocket and looked up at Hyungwon. “Yeah. Sure.” If Seungcheol wasn’t going to show up, he wasn’t going to waste his weekend waiting.
Jeonghan followed Hyungwon and his friend into the theater, letting their casual conversation distract him from the growing frustration curling in his chest. He told himself it was fine. Seungcheol was busy. He had football. He was working toward his future. That’s what Jeonghan wanted for him, too, right? But as he sat in the dim theater, watching Hyungwon laugh at the previews, his phone remained silent in his lap. No texts. No missed calls. Nothing. Jeonghan clenched his jaw and turned his phone face-down on the empty seat beside him.
Fine. If Seungcheol didn’t care, he wouldn’t either.
By the time the movie ended, Jeonghan had mostly pushed the whole thing to the back of his mind. The film was decent, and Hyungwon was easy company. Light, fun, uncomplicated. They stepped out of the theater, and Hyungwon stretched, sighing. “That was way better than I expected.”
His friend laughed. “You thought it was going to be terrible.”
Hyungwon grinned. “And I was wrong. First time for everything.”
Jeonghan smiled faintly, tucking his hands into his jacket.
“Do you want to get something to eat?” Hyungwon asked, glancing at Jeonghan. Jeonghan hesitated. He should go home. If Seungcheol drops by, he wants to be there. But then again—why should he be the one waiting? Seungcheol hadn’t even bothered to send a single message. Jeonghan exhaled, rolling his shoulders back. “Yeah. Let’s get something.”
It wasn’t until later that night, when he was lying in bed, scrolling through his phone, that the anger really settled in. Seungcheol had posted on his story. It was a blurry picture from practice—his teammates laughing, sweaty, exhausted. The caption read: “Long day. Dead tired.”
Jeonghan stared at the screen, a bitter taste in his mouth.
Long day.
Dead tired.
Not once did he think of texting Jeonghan.
Not once did he remember that they had plans.
Jeonghan turned off his phone and tossed it onto the bed beside him. He exhaled slowly, pressing his fingers against his temple. This wasn’t the first time. And he had a feeling it wouldn’t be the last.
xxx
Seungcheol woke up with a deep, lingering ache in his muscles, a dull reminder of the grueling weekend practice that had stretched on longer than expected. His legs felt heavy, his arms sore, and even shifting under the blankets made him wince. He groaned, burying his face into his pillow, willing his body to cooperate, but the stiffness refused to fade.
Something felt off.
For a moment, he lay there, staring at the ceiling, his body still heavy with exhaustion from yesterday’s practice. His muscles ached, but something else was an unsettling feeling gnawing at the back of his mind. It felt like he had forgotten something—something important.
Then it hit him.
The movie.
His eyes went wide as cold realization slammed into him.
He had promised Jeonghan they’d spend the weekend together.
A movie date.
He was supposed to meet Jeonghan at the mall. And he never showed up.
Shit. Seungcheol bolted upright, grabbing his phone from the nightstand. His fingers fumbled as he unlocked it, eyes darting to his messages.
Jeonghan: Hey, I’m here. Are you on your way?
Jeonghan: Daddu?
Jeonghan: Cheol?
Jeonghan: Are you coming?
Jeonghan: Forget it. I’m going home.
Jeonghan: Enjoy practice.
The last text was sent at 8:17 PM. Seungcheol swore under his breath, gripping his phone tighter. How could he be this stupid? He had gotten so caught up in football and practice that he completely forgot about Jeonghan.
Seungcheol squeezed his eyes shut, trying to piece everything together. He had come home, muscles aching from the brutal drills, barely managing to drag himself to the shower. The hot water had done little to ease his exhaustion. As soon as he toweled off and collapsed onto his bed, sleep had claimed him instantly.
And now, hours later, Jeonghan’s unread message stared back at him—a reminder of his mistake. Panic settled in his chest as he immediately tried to call Jeonghan, pressing the phone to his ear, but it went straight to voicemail. His stomach twisted. His phone was off.
Cursing under his breath, Seungcheol quickly typed out a message, explaining everything—how practice had drained him, how he had come home and passed out without meaning to. He sent it, but it didn’t feel like enough.
He opened KakaoTalk and sent another message just in case. Then, desperate to figure out where Jeonghan might have gone, he checked Instagram, scrolling through his stories and posts, hoping for any update or any clue that could tell him where to find him.
But there it was.
A new post.
Hyungwon and Jeonghan were sitting at the diner—the same one they liked to go to after late-night movies. It was the place where they used to sit for hours, drinking milkshakes and eating their fair share of Korean food, talking about everything and nothing. It was their spot, and now Jeonghan had brought someone else. Jeonghan was taking a selca with his head tilted, making a peace sign, while Hyungwon in the back did the same. They looked relaxed.
The caption?
“Not a bad way to end the night.”
Seungcheol’s grip tightened around his phone.
He had fucked up.
And the worst part?
Jeonghan didn’t even text him goodnight. Seungcheol threw his blanket off, swung his legs over the bed, and ran a frustrated hand through his hair.
He had to fix this.
Now.
Grabbing a hoodie, he shoved his feet into his sneakers and bolted out of the house. He didn’t even bother checking if Jeonghan was awake—he just needed to see him, to explain, to do something. By the time he reached Jeonghan’s house, he was out of breath, the cool morning air doing little to calm his racing heart. He knocked once, then twice, before stepping back, biting his lip.
What if Jeonghan didn’t want to see him?
What if last night was the final straw?
Before he could spiral further, the door opened. Jeonghan stood there, hair messy from sleep, an oversized sweater hanging off his frame. He blinked at Seungcheol, unimpressed. “Seriously?” His voice was raspy, still thick with sleep. “It’s barely eight in the morning.”
Seungcheol swallowed. “I—I messed up.”
Jeonghan leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed. “Yeah. No shit.”
Seungcheol exhaled sharply. “I didn’t mean to forget, Hannie. I got caught up in practice, and I—”
“You were tired.” Jeonghan finished for him, his expression unreadable. “Yeah, I saw your post.”
Seungcheol winced. “I should’ve texted.”
Jeonghan scoffed, shaking his head. “You think?”
Guilt churned in Seungcheol’s stomach. He had never seen Jeonghan like this—cold, distant. Even when they fought, Jeonghan never felt this… far away. Seungcheol took a step closer. “I’ll make it up to you. Just—”
“Don’t.” Jeonghan cut him off. “Just stop.”
Seungcheol froze.
“I waited for you, Cheol.” Jeonghan’s voice was quieter now but no less sharp. “I sat there, staring at my phone like an idiot, hoping you’d show up. And when you didn’t, you didn’t even have the decency to text; I had to sit through a whole movie pretending I wasn’t pissed off.”
Seungcheol’s heart sank. “Hannie, I—”
“You don’t get it, do you?” Jeonghan let out a humorless laugh. “This isn’t just about the movie, Cheol. It’s about everything. The missed calls, the canceled plans, the one-word replies because you’re ‘too busy.’” He made air quotes. “I get that football is important. I really do. But you didn’t even care enough to tell me you weren’t coming.”
Seungcheol’s throat felt tight like the words were trying to claw their way out, but they got stuck somewhere between guilt and panic. “Baby—”
Jeonghan sighed, dragging a hand across his face before pressing his fingers to his temple as if the weight of everything had settled there. “I’m tired, Cheol.” The words hit harder than they should have—short, quiet, but final in a way that made Seungcheol’s stomach twist.
“Y-You’re tired?” he echoed, his voice thinner now, uncertain. His brows furrowed as he searched Jeonghan’s face for something—softness, forgiveness, anything—but all he saw was the kind of exhaustion that didn’t come from sleepless nights. It came from trying too hard for too long.
Jeonghan nodded. “Yeah.” His voice was softer now, almost defeated. “Tired of waiting. I’m tired of feeling like I come second. Tired of wondering if we’re even still us.”
Seungcheol opened his mouth, but no words came out. Because, for the first time, he realized— He wasn’t just late for a movie.
He wasn’t just late for a movie.
He was late for everything.
Late to notice the way Jeonghan was enduring.
Enduring the waiting.
Late to see the hurt behind his quiet smiles.
Late to understand that love wasn’t just saying “I’m sorry”—it was showing up when it mattered.
And tonight, he hadn’t.
He was late to realize that he was losing Jeonghan.