Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The hardest thing about loving someone is trying not to love them.

Love meant nothing like the sweet, eclectic tango of emotions and feelings between two people—Sim Jaeyun was aware of that. And the fact that the truth stung absolutely distraught him.

He did try to be a chill guy about it. He played by the unfair rules set by the universe. But honestly? He wasn't really god's strongest soldier in the topic of romance.

It had been a year since he realized that everything had changed. A lot of things happened. The team was graduating soon, his parents were getting older, and the exhaustion after training had worsened. Everything was suddenly changing, and he couldn't keep up with the motions of life. And the worst was that one thing remained constantly annoying in his life—Lee Heeseung.

There was nothing more torturous than being Lee Heeseung's friend.

It happened on one of those busy days—their bus always got quiet on late afternoon after heavy training, and Jake was thankful for short moments of isolation. Although it was both a blessing and a curse for his mind that made overthinking a routine. The silence didn't help to shut out the doubts within him about everything. The same doubts that had been bothering him ever since he knew Heeseung, and how he wished he could just throw them out to the ocean, like how his mother told him to throw away his problems there.

She said that the ocean would wash away whatever he threw on it, that the sea nymphs would take care of it, and gift him something in return. Well, he did try, once, but he just fell deeper from thereon.

That was the last time he ever believed in magic.

He pressed his forehead against the window, watching condensation fog the glass where his skin met it. His duffel bag sat heavy on his lap. His shoulders ached from setting drills—two hours of rapid tosses until the coach was quite satisfied with their quick attack timing. Most of the team had already filed off the bus, their goodbyes echoing in the emptying space.

Heeseung was one of the first who got out, leaning against the bus stop sign, one foot propped up behind him, scrolling through his phone.

Jake had seen this scene countless times to know that the guy wasn't checking the time, but waiting for him.

It was a mildly striking sight to Jake, sometimes cute even, seeing the guy act like he was busy just to not look like a lost child. That was one of the things he liked about Heeseung. A personality that he admired from the latter. But he also despised the doubts that formed and struggled to find an answer.

Just why was Heeseung acting like this?

Jungwon clapped Jake's shoulder as he passed, flashing a tired smile. Exhaustion was evident, but the bona fide personality of his team captain somehow never faded. "Good work today, hyung."

Jake simply nodded, but he didn't move yet. Through the window, Heeseung looked up from his phone. He must have sensed it, somehow—that Jake was still inside, still staring at him like a creep. Their eyes met through the scratched glass, and Heeseung did that thing he always did. He grinned immediately, as if exhaustion didn't kill his muscles. He pocketed his phone and waved at Jake to get off the bus.

Of course, the unspoken rule that they had to do things together. And that was the problem with Heeseung, the main cause of Jake's self-inflicted turmoil.

Whenever Jake was in the picture—even outside of it—Heeseung acted too real. Too different than what he usually showed others that Jake began deeming it a fake persona. He was awed at the genuineness at first, but the more Heeseung showed him that someone could actually be as gentle as floating dandelions, the more he began regretting being friends with the guy.

It was just too genuine. Too likable. And that same genuineness was what twisted Jake with this strangled, incomprehensible string of confusion. Because the truth loomed over him.

He didn't deserve someone like Heeseung.

But in the end, he mellowed out those curses. Someone could call him a coward, and he'd gladly accept the belittling wholeheartedly. He knew who he was at a young age, and nothing was as safe as chickening out, being satisfied with what he had. And the fact that he was still friends with Heeseung, even though his perception of him became way beyond that, was already too much.

It was simply another addition to the only constant things in his life. The one thing he wouldn't dare change. Because maybe another day, he'd finally get the answers he'd been hoping for. He'd muster up the courage to stop playing this game of twists and turns. Just not now, not when he still got to enjoy being this lucky and close to Heeseung.

He'd never gamble this one thing that stayed.

Jake stood and slung his bag over his shoulder. He took his time down the aisle because there was no rush, even though Heeseung was outside and his chest was doing that thing it always did lately, tightening like someone had sucked the air out of them. Unfortunately, the antidote to that aching pain was feeling Heeseung's warmth beside him, and he knew he was far gone.

The bus driver nodded at him as goodbye as he stepped down onto the pavement.

"Finally. Took you long enough." Heeseung stepped beside him, too natural, like this was choreographed.

In some ways, it was.

Walking home together became an unconscious habit. It'd be a miracle if Jake somehow "forgot" the one thing he enjoyed doing with the other. They'd walked the route home together so many times he could do it with his eyes closed—past the convenience store with the flickering neon sign, down the street where the pavements cracked and weeds pushed through, toward the residential area where houses spread out with more space and lawn between them. Their suburb was undeniably beautiful, something Jake admired. The ocean was visible in the distance, a thin line of blue across the horizon. Endless and never changing.

The ocean was a witness to Jake's deepest desires, the only one that didn't judge him as he whispered his secrets.

"Had to grab my jacket," Jake explained. It wasn't completely true, but Heeseung didn't need to know that he had actually been watching him through the window, cataloging the way the afterglow caught in his hair, turned it golden at the edges like autumn was just tomorrow.

Another unfair thing was Heeseung's effortless radiance.

Heeseung chuckled, fanning himself. "It's not even that cold," he pointed out with sass, but he was still smiling. He was always smiling around Jake, and it was another part of the problem.

They strolled through the streets in comfortable silence for a while. Shops were taking down banners while the street vendors hurried to serve the rush of students coming home from school. Jake listened to the hypnotic sound of the distant waves and their footsteps, which were slightly out of sync—Heeseung's stride was longer, more energetic despite the visible exhaustion on his drowsy eyes. He never failed to follow along with Jake's mood, no matter how ambitious and incomprehensible it could be. He'd make sure that everything felt fitting, perfect. He always did.

"You played amazingly today. I could barely catch up with you," Heeseung said as they approached an intersection. Jake kept his eyes set on the road, unaware of the smug look from the other. Well, he was, but he didn't want to get lost in that tanned face. "You were on fire. Have you been practicing without me?"

Jake ignored the accusation. The answer was obvious—he couldn't recall the last time he practiced alone without Heeseung asking for a set. "You spiked well."

"Yeah, because you set it perfectly. It's almost like you can read my mind. Can you?" Heeseung bumped Jake's shoulder with his own. The contact was brief, casual, the kind of thing teammates did to tease each other. What friends did with no malice. It shouldn't have made Jake's skin feel like it was burning, but it did. "You know, we're really getting better. Coach thinks we might actually have a shot at regionals this year."

Jake's mind pondered the thought. He never really viewed volleyball as a career move, and competitions weren't up his alley. But Heeseung did. The regionals were something he had been preparing for, aspiring for quite a while. It might actually be the reason why he stayed in the team when other schools were scouting him.

"Maybe."

"Definitely." Heeseung's tone was confident in that way that made people want to believe him, look up at him. Jake envied it sometimes—that certainty, that pride. His passion burned like the sun, furious and hot, while Jake felt like his motives were as deep and lost in twilight. "Wanna stop by the convenience store? I'm starving."

Jake glanced at Heeseung's profile. The sun was starting to set, painting everything in shades of orange and pink like the sky was on fire. Heeseung's face was flushed from practice, his hair a mess, his practice shirt clinging to his shoulders. And that was the moment where Jake realized—this was unfair. Too unfair. Because no one should possess this much radiance. No one should be able to captivate him by doing nothing. Yet here he was, and Jake hated himself for obsessing too much about it.

"Sure," was all Jake replied.

The convenience store was empty except for the clerk, who didn't look up from his phone when they entered. Heeseung rushed for the ramyeon, grabbing two cups and holding one up for Jake's approval. It didn't even matter if he agreed or not, the other would've forced him to eat it anyway. They went through the motions without speaking—Heeseung paid per usual, even though Jake protested every time, and they filled the cups with hot water at the station in the back.

Outside, they sat at one of the plastic tables, steam rising from their cups into the air. Heeseung blew on his ramyeon, impatient as always. Jake never understood what was so captivating about the instant food, but the view in front of him was nice. He stirred his slowly, watching the noodles separate and drift. Something deep within him felt satisfied. This same scenario had become their norm after training, and even though he never got used to the warmth of it, he still discovered new things to think about late at night.

He never really allowed himself to get used to it, else he'd yearn for it like a heartbroken widow once it was taken from him.

"Tournament's in three weeks," Heeseung mentioned between bites, still focused on savoring the instant food. "You nervous?"

"No."

Heeseung clicked his tongue. "Liar. You're always nervous before tournaments. I can tell. You get this weird look." He gestured at Jake's face with his chopsticks, and the latter hoped he didn't look as transparent and embarrassing as he was described to be. He never really knew how he looked whenever the other was around. "It's like—it looks like you're thinking too hard about everything. You get quiet and shut others out. If you keep doing that, you'll get wrinkles."

Jake just snickered and continued eating. Heeseung was right, though—he did think too hard about everything. He isolated himself when everything rolled into an overdrive. He did so much that he wouldn't be able to name one good quality about him other than being an obsessive overthinker. Being a no-good avoidant. But who was to blame? His mother's paranoia, probably. Or his father's fluctuating ego. But Heeseung was a part of the problem. He gave Jake everything to obsess about. His smile, about the way his hand felt when they high-fived after a good play, about how he always walked Jake home even though his house was closer.

Then the intramural last year—the one they'd won, the one where they'd sat on the gym steps until two in the morning because neither of them wanted to go home yet. Indulged in the moment and the sweet escape after a long day of milking determination, even when it was running dry. The same night when Heeseung had talked earnestly about his family, about the pressure he felt to be good. Because he was supposed to be good. Lees were supposed to be leaders. And Jake had listened, he always did when it was Heeseung. He never found out why, but somewhere in that listening, something had shifted. Unintentionally, Pandora's box had opened, and afterward, something indescribable started growing in the spaces between his ribs where it definitely didn't belong.

It had been a year. Almost a year of uncertainty. A year of dried-up tears.

"See, you're being quiet right now. You're nervous, huh?" Heeseung repeated, kicking a foot onto Jake under the table to prove his point. "I know you well, Jakey. You don't have to hide it from me."

But I have to. For your sake. "I'm not nervous."

Heeseung studied him for a moment, then shrugged and went back to his ramyeon. "Okay, okay. If you say so."

They ate in silence. Not awkward, not a testament of Jake's growing confusion—just momentary peace. And despite the hurt of crying over bygones, there was a miracle drug that Jake sought after. Heeseung always gave him peace despite being the instigator for the chaotic, frantic, annoying as hell beating in his chest. The sky deepened from pink to purple, hiding the way Jake's cheeks blushed when their feet kept bumping. In this case, "bumping" meant Heeseung trying to annoy him, as if Jake was a ticking time bomb about to explode. Cars passed by, headlights giving a short glimpse of Heeseung's playful smile through the dark.

Jake's ramyeon was probably too hot, or maybe spicy, but he kept eating anyway, grateful for a scapegoat to hide the truth behind his irrational reactions for something supposedly normal between friends.

"Hey," Heeseung said suddenly. "Did you see that girl today? In the stands during practice?"

Jake's chopsticks paused halfway to his mouth. The noodles slipped off, fell back into the cup with a small splash. He kept his gaze on his own cup. "Girl?"

"The one with the long hair. From Jay's class, I think. She's been coming to watch us for like a week now." When Jake looked up to find an explanation, Heeseung wasn't looking at him—focused on his ramyeon, casual, like this was a normal conversation. As if they had often talked about girls before. "Maybe I'm just exaggerating, but do you think she's interested? In someone, I mean."

Another problem being with Lee Heeseung? It meant that what he thought was also said out loud. He had no filter. Never did. And that was the worst part. The universe favored Heeseung too, while Jake was left in the dark. Everything around them had Heeseung's signature on it. Everything continued like normal, as if Jake wasn't freaking out. The clerk's phone kept playing some tinny video. A motorcycle revved somewhere down the street.

But Jake kept eating, forced himself to swallow even though his throat suddenly felt blocked. "Cool," he forced out. His voice sounded normal. He was exceptionally good at that—sounding normal when everything inside him was screaming. He'd learned when his parents were hiding the fact that his mother was terribly sick. When he had to act like the sun still shone when she died.

The sky had been clouded with thunderstorms since then.

"You think I should talk to her?"

Jake stirred his ramyeon, watching the broth swirl like a storm brewing in a cup. He could say no. Actually, say nothing and ignore him. Or he could tell Heeseung not to talk to her, make up some laughable reason, or sabotage this. He could, but what would be the point? Heeseung was asking because he wanted to talk to her. Because he was interested, and boys were supposed to act that way. That was normal. And Heeseung trusted him, because he was his best friend, his setter, the person he walked home with out of habit and probably convenience.

Heeseung trusted him, and it seemed like he misplaced that trust.

Jake slurped the last of his ramyeon, feeling Heeseung's impatience shadow over him. He sighed when the other still waited for his advice. "I don't know, man. Just do what you want."

Heeseung blinked at him, then there was something in his expression that felt... strange. Something Jake couldn't recognize. Confusion, perhaps. Or concern. "Right. Okay." He leaned closer, "Are you okay?"

No. "Yeah. Just tired."

"I get it. We've been training pretty extreme lately. And there's the final exams..." Heeseung's voice softened, and it seemed like they had forgotten about the uninvited topic so suddenly. He reached across the table, flicked Jake's forehead lightly. "But don't burn yourself out and get sick. I need my setter in top form. Okay?"

Jake rolled his eyes. "Don't exaggerate. I'm fine."

Heeseung just shook his head while chuckling, and soon they finished eating. He then threw their cups away, and they started walking again. The streets were quieter now, most people already home for dinner. Jake's house came into view—a small, single-story place with a rusted gate and a garden his grandmother was always trying to keep alive, even though the summer drought made it difficult. Those were the same flowers his mother was taking care of back then.

They stopped at the gate. This was where they always stopped. Where his days usually ended. Heeseung stilled, hands in his pockets, rocking slightly on his heels. He opened his mouth like he wanted to say something, then closed it. He did that thing where he looked at Jake like he was trying to solve him.

"See you tomorrow?" Heeseung said finally.

"Yeah."

"Get some rest. You look exhausted."

"Thanks," Jake replied dryly.

Heeseung grinned, reached out like he was going to ruffle Jake's hair or touch his shoulder, then seemed to think better of it. His hand dropped back to his side. Jake was at least thankful for the hesitation. Because he had no idea what and how he'd react to whatever the other tried to experiment back there. Heeseung seemed to love physical contact, but something unspoken was agreed upon between them regarding closeness. They'd never been really that physically close other than a few exceptions, which mostly involved accidents on court.

"Goodnight, Jake."

"Night."

Jake watched Heeseung walk away, hands still in his pockets, shoulders loose and relaxed. He watched until the other turned around the corner and disappeared, then stood there for another minute, staring at the empty street like it might materialize Heeseung out of nowhere. Crazily enough, even the way the other walked left a radiating aura behind that'd strike anyone.

Inside, he went straight to his room, dropped his bag by the door, and collapsed onto his bed. The ceiling fan turned slowly overhead, creating white noise that occupied some part of Jake's mind. His eyes weren't even closed, yet he could still vividly remember everything about Heeseung today. He could still see that smile that strung a beat in his heart.

His phone buzzed.

Heeseung: thanks for walking with me. sleep well!

Jake stared at the message, at the exclamation point that was so characteristically Heeseung. His thumb hovered over the keyboard. A part of him wanted to say something sweet. Look for answers. Ask why Heeseung always waited for him, walked him home, and looked at Jake sometimes like—but he didn't. He typed back a simple "you too" and put his phone down on his nightstand.

Through his window, he could see a sliver of ocean in the distance, dark and infinite, reflecting a distorted moon. He closed his eyes and tried not to think about him. He tried to distract himself from girls with long hair that were enough to lure his best friend. About the way almost a year had passed, and he'd done nothing to change.

Except everything had.

Practice the next day was brutal. Coach called them for an intrasquad game until Jake's body felt like it was going to give out, then transitioned straight into extensive blocking drills. His arms were heavy, his reactions half a second too slow, and he knew the coach had definitely noticed but was too focused on correcting the first year's form to call out on it.

"Sim! Lee! You're up!" Coach's whistle pierced through the court, giving the poor first years time to flop down on the floor like fish and rest.

It was obvious their coach wanted to snag that gold medal this year. After years of being unplaced on the podium, Jake understood the embarrassment well. And Heeseung seemed to share the same sentiment as well, passionate as ever with his attacks and serves. Jake took a glance at the latter, seeing the fury of the game manifest through his flushed face and exhausted body, yet he persevered and acted like he had more energy to burn.

Jake positioned himself at the net, while Heeseung was already on the other side, knees bent and ready. Their eyes met athwart the net, and perhaps it was Jake's self-inflicted sabotage, but he swore he saw the guy winking at him. But it didn't matter anyway, friends teased each other. He didn't let that fantasy consume him.

Heeseung's eyes were completely focused, burning—a quality that Jake adored, and at the same time was a complete distraction. He pushed the thought away. Coach tossed the ball high, and Jake watched Heeseung's approach. He timed his jump, and immediately, their hands met at the net, but Heeseung's spike had too much power. The ball ricocheted off Jake's fingers, flew wild.

"Good! Again!" Coach yelled.

They reset. This time, Jake jumped earlier, got his hands in the right position. The ball bounced back to Heeseung's side. A successful block.

Heeseung grinned at him through the net, reaching out. "Nice."

Jake just nodded. But the same tingling feeling whenever Heeseung got too close to him swelled his chest despite the distance. That was the problem of being forced in proximity with the person whose presence was too alluring, attaching to anyone like a leech. Jake tried to rationalize it every time he came to that conclusion. That maybe he actually confused his feelings with volleyball. Maybe that was the reason why he felt satisfied even after a loss, because Heeseung was there, but also volleyball was there. And maybe he just needed to improve—then he'd actually clear his mind and realize this was all just a misunderstanding.

Yeah, maybe.

They went again and again. By the time the coach called for a water break, Jake's hands were red and aching, but at least his mind was quiet. That was the good thing about being distracted—it demanded everything but nothing. There was no space for thinking about anything else when he was on the court. However, the only disadvantage of being on court was the fact that the biggest, most tempting distraction was there too.

Jake sat against the wall, drinking from his water bottle, watching the others play. Jungwon was demonstrating something to Sunoo, their libero. Sunghoon was sprawled on the floor, dramatically complaining about the coach's conditioning routine. But only god knew how much the guy actually enjoyed buffing up. Then there was Jay, retaping his calloused fingers. Some others went ahead to mingle with the girls watching them—the audience Jake hated. Called them an absolute distraction to the team, yet even the coach seemed to enjoy their presence.

Heeseung dropped down next to him, their shoulders touching. He was breathing hard, sweat dripping down his temple. "You're off today."

"What?"

"You're thinking too much again." Heeseung nudged him. "Wanna tell me what's up?"

You. "Just tired."

Heeseung groaned, leaning closer onto him, their sweaty shirts sticking. Jake tried to push him off, but the little energy left in him wasn't enough to overpower Heeseung's. "Come on. You already said that yesterday." Heeseung studied him, and Jake kept his eyes forward, refusing to meet his gaze. "Is something bothering you? You can talk to me, you know."

I know, Jake wanted to say. That's the problem with you. You're too easy to talk to. Too easy to be around. Too easy to fall in love with. "I told you, I'm fine. Just need to focus more."

Heeseung's worry was blatant on his expression—something he never felt the need to hide. Unlike Jake. "If you say so…" The other didn't sound convinced, but he let it drop. He leaned back against the wall, tilted his head up toward the ceiling. "Coach wants us to stay after today. He said we could do more work on our quick attacks. Said we can get the timing even tighter." He turned to Jake again. "Is that okay?"

Just the two of them. In the empty gym? Of course. "Yeah, okay."

"It'll be good," Heeseung said. He sounded excited about it, the way he always sounded excited about volleyball. His lips curved upward thinly. "It's crazy. We're already pretty in sync—it's like you can read my mind—but if we can get it perfect? We'll actually make it big."

In sync… Read his mind? Jake thought about all the ways that was true—how he could read Heeseung's approaches without thinking, how he knew exactly how high to set the ball for each of Heeseung's spikes, how their timing on the court was nearly flawless. And he thought about all the ways it wasn't—how Jake was always aware of everything 'Heeseung' while the latter seemed blissfully oblivious, how their feelings were completely out of sync, how Jake was here cataloging every casual interaction while he was probably thinking about the girls cheering for them.

The lie that he could actually read Heeseung's mind. Because what did Heeseung feel for him? He never understood it.

"Yeah," but Jake swallowed the truth. It'd be better to be safe than weep because of greed. "Maybe."

The gym emptied slowly after training ended. The team filtered out in groups—Sunoo and Riki left together, still arguing about a bad play, Jay and Sunghoon discussed their dinner plans, Jungwon hung out with the other team members, checking up on them consistently like a leader. Heeseung and Jake stayed behind, helping the coach put away the equipment.

"Don't stay too late, you two," the coach exclaimed, grabbing his bag. "Lock up when you're done. And Lee—" He pointed at Heeseung. "Don't let Sim overwork himself."

"Of course, coach. I'll take care of him," Heeseung said with that easy confidence that made the coach smile while Jake rolled his eyes.

Then it was just them. The gym felt bigger when it was empty, sounds echoing obnoxiously louder—their footsteps squeaked on the polished floor, the rattle of the ball cart, the humming of the overhead lights. It almost felt too intimate. Jake grabbed the ball cart, wheeling it to the side of the court. Heeseung was stretching his shoulders, rolling his neck. And something was off. This scene had already been ingrained in Jake's mind with the countless training sessions, but had Heeseung been buffing up? Oh god.

"Ready?" Heeseung called out, cutting whatever thoughts Jake just had.

He nodded. Took his position at the net. They started slow—basic quick attacks, working on the timing of Jake's toss and Heeseung's approach. One step, two steps, three, then jump. The ball met Heeseung's hand at the perfect height, and he spiked it down hard. The sound of it hitting the floor echoed like a gunshot. A manifesto of their cooperative work. Thank god Jake hadn't been distracted by the way Heeseung played, somehow more eager now than earlier.

"That toss was perfect." Heeseung jogged to retrieve the ball, tossed it back to Jake. "Again?"

And so they did. Their sets fell into a pattern. Toss, approach, spike. Reset. Again. The repetition was more meditative, hypnotic than tedious. Jake could lose himself in this rhythm. The mechanics of the perfect set, the angle of his wrist, the trajectory of the ball, then it came to a perfect spike that satisfied him. Heeseung made it easy. Too easy. His approaches became predictable in the best way, each one exactly what Jake needed to time his tosses.

Heeseung made him happy. And maybe his happiness was too surface-level, but it provided him with something that no one else could give.

Too bad it was his own best friend.

After an hour, they were both dripping with sweat. Heeseung called for a break, and they collapsed on the floor, back against the wall, passing a water bottle between them.

"We're getting really good at this," Heeseung said with that bright, satisfied grin he got when practice went well—especially radiant after their session. "Did you see that last spike? That was damn perfect."

"It was good."

"Just good?" Heeseung bumped Jake's side. His smile deepened, now teasing. "Give me more than that."

"It was… great," Jake amended, ignoring the disappointed groan from his friend. He took a long drink of water, then handed the bottle back to Heeseung. Their fingers brushed during the exchange. Brief. Meaningless—as it should be. But Jake's hand still felt warm afterward.

"That's better." Heeseung drank, then wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. He was watching Jake again with that expression that made Jake want to eat his own guts. "Hey, can I ask you something?"

"Sure."

"Are we—we're okay, right? Like, you and me? We're good?"

Jake turned to look at him. Heeseung's face was serious now, and for the first time, the playfulness was gone. It was eerie, intimidating to watch the playfulness dissipate. His eyes were searching Jake's, looking for something that probably never existed.

Jake swallowed, "Why wouldn't we be?"

"I don't know. You've just seemed… distant lately. Or maybe I'm just imagining things." Heeseung ran his hand through his hair, frustrated. His body sagged, and Jake held himself from reaching out. "I can't tell. I still don't understand you completely. But if I did something—"

"You didn't do anything." The lie came out easily. Jake had gotten good at lying, at least about this. He had to. "I'm just not in my best form. That's all."

"You keep saying that."

"Because it's true."

Heeseung didn't look convinced, brows furrowed, but he nodded slowly. "Okay. But if something's bothering you, you'd tell me, right? We're best friends. You can tell me anything—no judgment."

Best friends… The words sat heavy in Jake's chest, a weight he'd been carrying for almost a year now. The label sounded taboo, almost like an impeccable disease he'd never cure. And perhaps his feelings for his supposed best friend were just a momentary disease caused by his loneliness.

Jake didn't really want to get too meticulous about knowing the details of the whys and hows. It'd give him migraine. He just smiled, a forced one. "Yeah. I know."

"Good." Heeseung's beamed, smaller but genuine. He held out his hand, and Jake stared at it, dumbfounded. "Help me up, please? Let's do a few more sets before we call it quits."

Jake scoffed, but he couldn't resist the opportunity. He took Heeseung's hand, pulled him up to his feet. They stood there for a second, hands clasped, closer than necessary. Too dangerously near. Heeseung's palm was warm and callused from years of playing. His thumb brushed against Jake's wrist, probably by accident.

Then Heeseung let go, stepped back, and the moment passed like it had never happened at all.

They practiced for another thirty minutes before finally calling it quits. Jake's shoulders were aching, his legs heavy with exhaustion. They cleaned up in silence, putting away the equipment, turning off the lights. Heeseung locked the gym door behind them, and they stepped out into the evening breeze.

The sun had already set, the sky a deep indigo. Street lights flickered on as they strolled, casting glows of yellow light on the pavement. It was cooler now, gusts of refreshing wind coming in from the ocean carrying the smell of salt and seaweed. Peaceful, as always.

"You hungry?" Heeseung asked.

"Not really."

"Well, I am. Let's grab something." Heeseung was already walking in the direction of the convenience store before Jake could even answer, but he still followed because that's what he always did. Followed Heeseung's footsteps. Become a part of his shadow. It was easier than trying to pull away. Safer than trying to become a man of his own.

The convenience store was brighter than the street outside. They grabbed ramyeon again—it wasn't really that surprising anymore. It was becoming their routine, Jake realized. His days had been ending like this lately. School, practice, convenience store, walk home with Heeseung. The same script every time.

They sat across from each other, and Jake watched steam rise from his cup, curling in the air before disappearing into nothing. Heeseung was texting someone, his face lit by his phone screen.

And somehow, Jake didn't understand his own intentions. "Who's that?" He asked before he could stop himself.

"Hm?" Heeseung looked up, surprised as if caught on a lie, then glanced back at his phone. "Oh, just my sister. She's asking if I can pick something up for her tomorrow." He put his phone away, picked up his chopsticks. "You should text more, you know. You're terrible at texting back."

"But I still do."

"Yeah, like a day after." But Heeseung was grinning, teasing. As if that was something to be happy about. "It's fine, though, I don't mind. I know you're not a big texter. I just—I like talking to you. Even if it's just over text."

Jake's throat suddenly felt tight. He almost choked on nothing, focusing his gaze on his ramyeon instead, twirling noodles around his chopsticks. "Okay. I—me too."

They ate quietly. A couple walked past, holding hands, laughing dramatically about something. Jake watched them until they disappeared among the crowd of students, then glanced back at Heeseung. He was already watching Jake, and when their eyes met, Heeseung didn't look away.

"What?" Jake asked, feeling warmth creep up his face.

"Nothing. Just thinking."

"About what?"

Heeseung hesitated, then shook his head. "Nah, it's nothing. Come on, finish up. I'll walk you home."

"You don't have to."

"I know." Heeseung's voice was soft. "But I want to."

Jake just shook his head and snickered. If only you knew.

They walked through the streets, past houses with lit windows and the sound of families inside. Dogs barked in distant yards. The waves were a constant presence, even when they couldn't see it—the smell of it, the sound of waves if they listened closely enough. These small things kept Jake grounded with his thoughts, no matter how fucking chaotic it got in there.

All because he liked a boy.

At Jake's gate, Heeseung stopped. He put his hands in his pockets, looked like he wanted to say something, but couldn't find the right words. Instead, he remained silent, letting Jake take the initiative. Weird.

"Thanks for staying late," Jake said, saving himself from the awkwardness.

"Anytime." Heeseung rocked on his heels. "Jake?"

"Yeah?"

Heeseung sighed before speaking. "I'm glad we're friends. Like, really glad. You know that, right?"

Jake felt the foundations of his sanity inside his chest crack, the same foundations held by sticks and hollow prayers barely holding together. "I know. Me too."

Heeseung smiled, reached out, and this time, he did ruffle Jake's hair. His hand lingered for a second longer than it needed to. Well, Jake knew that much that it shouldn't feel so… borderline intimate. "See you tomorrow."

Jake waved and watched his friend walk away. He watched until he couldn't see him anymore—like a child watching his mom leave to work overseas. Then he went inside when he realized that he looked stupid staring down the street, climbed the stairs to his room, and rushed at the window. From here, he could see the ocean in the distance, dark and endless under the moonlight.

His phone buzzed a few minutes later.

Heeseung: made it home safe. thx for tonight. you're the best setter i could ask for.

Jake typed and deleted three different responses before settling on something ordinary.

Jake: ur a good spiker

He put his phone down, stared at the ceiling. He tried not to think about Heeseung's hand in his hair, about being best friends, about how he was the "best setter" Heeseung could ask for, but apparently nothing more than that.

Almost a year, Jake thought. Almost a year of this.

He didn't know how much longer he could keep pretending that the wishful thinking didn't stab him on the same scar, deeper and deeper.

The days passed in a hazy memory of practices and classes. Jake carefully maintained normalcy. He perfected the art of being present but distant—close enough that Heeseung wouldn't figure him out and worry, far enough that he could protect himself.

Because, admittedly, it was exhausting.

Friday after practice, someone suggested going to the beach. Half the team piled into Jay's car, and the other half crammed into Sunghoon's. Jake found himself in the back of Jay's car, pressed between Heeseung and the window. Heeseung's thigh was warm against his, and Jake tried not to notice.

"This is going to be fun," Sunoo was saying from the front seat, clearly enjoying the free space all by himself. He turned to the guys in the backseat, beaming at them despite the cramped scene. "I honestly can't remember the last time we actually relaxed!"

"We did. Last week," Riki pointed out.

"Okay, yeah. But that doesn't count. Those two ditched us to practice."

"We didn't ditch you," Heeseung protested. "We had to work on our attacks."

"Sure, sure." Sunoo waved his hand dismissively. "My point is, we're all together now. No volleyball. Just fun. Isn't that exciting?"

The guys in the backseat just groaned and told Sunoo to fuck off. The beach was empty when they arrived, the sun just starting to set. They claimed a spot near the water, dropping bags and shoes in a pile. Sunoo immediately ran toward the waves, Jungwon chasing after him. Jay started setting up a speaker, and music filled the air—something upbeat that didn't quite match the gentleness of the ocean and Jake's taste. But it was whatever, the "vibes" were present anyway.

He sat in the sand, knees drawn up, watching the water touch his toes. The waves rolled in steadily and constantly, and he felt himself relax slightly. Out here, away from the gym and school, he could breathe easier. Even if just for a moment.

Until he felt someone drop down beside him. And he didn't have to check who it was. Obviously. "You're doing it again."

"Doing what?"

"That thing where you separate yourself from everyone else." Heeseung's voice was as calm as the tides, yet it brought a storm in Jake's mind.

He was right, though. Jake eyes landed on his team, who were already in the water despite the cold, screaming and laughing. "I'm good here."

"Jake." Heeseung's tone was patient, but there was an edge to it. "You've been weird all week. I'm not letting you sit here and brood."

"I'm not brooding."

"You literally are right now." Heeseung stood, held out his hand, and waited for Jake. "I'm not taking no for an answer."

Jake looked at Heeseung's outstretched hand, at his face backlit by the setting sun, at the determined set of his jaw. He could refuse—was willing to, actually—but then Heeseung would worry, would ask more questions, would look at Jake with that concerned expression that made everything hurt more. And he didn't want that.

So, he took Heeseung's hand and let himself get pulled up and be dragged toward the water.

The ocean was surprisingly freezing despite the summer heat. Jake hissed when the first wave hit his legs, but Heeseung was laughing, already knee-deep and pulling Jake further in. The others were shouting, splashing each other. Sunoo was trying to push Jungwon under while the latter clung to him like a cat. Jay stood further out, calmer, but definitely planning something sinister.

"See?" Heeseung said, his hand still wrapped around Jake's wrist. "Isn't this better than sitting alone?"

A wave crashed into them, and Jake stumbled. Thankfully, Heeseung steadied him, both hands on Jake's arms now, giggling. Water dripped down his face, his hair plastered to his forehead. He looked so happy, so completely in the moment that Jake couldn't help but smile back. For a moment, he wanted to stay like this and pause time.

"Maybe," Jake admitted, still trying to keep his facade.

"Maybe?" Heeseung rolled his eyes, but he was grinning. He didn't let go of Jake's arms. Another wave came, pushing them closer together. While the water was definitely cold, it was somehow getting warmer the closer they got to each other's bodies. "You're quite impossible to understand. Do you know that?"

"You've mentioned it."

"Because it's true." Heeseung's thumbs brushed against Jake's arms, probably unconsciously. Maybe. The touch was light, barely there, but Jake felt it everywhere—embracing him. "But I wouldn't change it. You balance me out."

Jake didn't know what to say to that. Didn't know how to explain that Heeseung saying things like that made everything worse and better at the same time. Gave him hope and ignition at the same time. Did friends even say such things to each other? So, he just stood there, water swirling around his legs, Heeseung's hands on his arms, and tried to memorize every single detail of this moment—the way the light caught in Heeseung's eyes, almost like they were sparkling, the sound of their teammates laughing, the smell of salt in the air.

"Hey!" Sunoo's voice cut through the moment. "Stop having a moment and help us build here!"

Heeseung chuckled, finally letting go of Jake. "Coming!" He turned back to Jake. "Guess we're on sandcastle duty."

Jake smiled as they waded back to shore, and he tried to ignore the way his arms felt limp, cold where Heeseung's hands had been. He missed it. And god, he felt like he was abusing the hell out of this friendship. It was starting to get disgusting.

As expected, the sandcastle was a disaster. Unlike on the court, no one knew what they were doing, and it mostly devolved into Sunoo giving directions that no one followed while Riki destroyed whatever they managed to build. But it was nice, Jake had to admit. Warm. Normal.

When the sun finally disappeared below the horizon, they gathered around Jay's speaker, passing around snacks someone had brought. The beach was nearly dark now, just the light from the parking lot in the distance and their phone screens creating small pockets of illumination.

Jake sat a little apart from the group, silently watching. Heeseung was in the middle of telling some story, gesturing wildly like he was on a kids' show, and everyone was laughing along. He was good at that—pulling people in, making them feel included and entertained. Jake had always admired that about him, but at the same time felt envious of it. His father had always told him that he could do the same if he just stopped being so shy, but it wasn't really that easy to put himself out there. Some people were just born naturally, like Heeseung. Lucked out in life.

"You okay, hyung?" a voice asked beside him.

Jake looked over. Jungwon had moved to sit next to him, discreet enough that Jake hadn't noticed. Jungwon moved like that. Always there whenever he needed to, without saying anything. Another one of the people who lucked out with a great personality. The younger boy was watching him with that perceptive look he sometimes got outside of scheming a set on court.

"Yeah. Why not?" Jake asked, even though he knew.

"Seems like something's bothering you." Jungwon was quiet for a moment. "You can talk to me about it."

"Nothing's bothering me."

"Okay." Jungwon didn't push, which Jake was grateful for. Unlike Heeseung, Jungwon knew how to take social cues. Or maybe he just knew that it'd take years to crack the protective layers Jake built. They sat in silence for a bit, then Jungwon said, "He worries about you."

Jake didn't need to ask who he meant. "He doesn't need to."

"Told him that already, but he does anyway. A lot, actually. That's just how Heeseung-hyung is." Jungwon picked up a handful of sand, let it run through his fingers. "You're important to him."

I know, Jake wanted to say. But I don't know how important I really am to him. That's the problem. Instead, he just nodded.

Jungwon stood, brushed sand off his pants. "For what it's worth, I think you should talk to him. Whatever it is, he'd understand."

Then he walked back to the group, leaving Jake alone with his thoughts and the sound of the ocean.

Would he really understand the depths Jake accidentally stumbled onto?

The next week brought news about the tournament. They'd been placed in a tough bracket, but the coach seemed confident than ever. "You've all been working hard," he said during a pep talk while training. "I think we have a real shot this year. Right, men?"

The team cheered loudly. Jake felt the pre-tournament anxiety starting to consume him. He always got like this—lost, focused, running through plays in his mind until he dreamed about them. The life of an overthinker.

After practice, Jake was helping put away the equipment when he heard the coach call Heeseung over. They talked in low voices by the office door, too quiet for Jake to hear. When Heeseung came back, he looked lost in thought. A sight that meant something wasn't normal. For Heeseung—that was.

"What was that about?" Jake asked.

Heeseung shrugged. "Nothing. Just some individual stuff." He grabbed his bag. "So, you ready to go?"

Jake let it slide and nodded, but he felt uneasy. Heeseung was acting different—not necessarily bad, just… distracted. Like his mind was somewhere else.

They walked to the bus stop in silence. None of the small talk or slight touches occurred for the first time since they started walking home together. It had been raining earlier, and the streets were still wet, reflecting the street lights. The air smelled distinctly clean, homey. But Heeseung's weird behavior was nothing but cozy.

"You're quiet today," Jake finally remarked, swatting the pride away this time.

"Yeah, sorry. Just thinking."

"About what?"

Heeseung heaved a sigh, feeling the breeze as he closed his eyes. "The tournament. Some other stuff." He then looked at Jake, and there was something new in his expression that Jake couldn't read. "Do you ever think about the future?"

Jake thought for a while, even though that question was right up his alley. Of course, he did. In fact, he always thought about the future—every single possibility as if he were some oracle. He thought about what the future would be if he stayed the same, he thought about a future where his mother didn't get sick, and he thought about a future where he pursued playing the violin instead of volleyball.

And a future wherein Heeseung never entered his life.

"Sometimes," Jake answered.

"I thought so. But do you think where you'll be in a year? Two years?" Heeseung stepped into a puddle. "I've been thinking about it a lot lately. About volleyball. About what comes after high school."

"There are still a few months before we graduate. We have time."

"I know. But still." Heeseung was quiet for a moment. "I guess I just wonder sometimes if I'm good enough. Like, to actually make something of this."

Jake stopped walking. Heeseung took a few more steps before realizing and turning back.

It took a lot of courage before Jake spat it out. "You're good enough," he said. Meant it. "Way more than that. You're one of the best players I've seen."

Heeseung cooed. "Come on, Jakey. You're my setter, but you can still be honest with me."

"I'm being honest." Jake stepped closer. "You're good, Heeseung. Really good. If you wanted to pursue volleyball seriously, you could."

Heeseung stared at him for a long moment. Then, he smiled, but it was smaller than his usual grin. "Thanks, Jake."

They started walking again. The bus stop came into view, and Jake felt that familiar disappointment at their time together soon ending. But then, Heeseung mentioned out of the blue, "Want to take a different route today?"

"What do you mean?"

"I don't know. Just walk for a bit. We always take the same way, so maybe we could… you know?" Heeseung glanced at Jake, and the hopefulness was present in the way his eyes stared at him. How could he say no? "Unless you're tired?"

The best case scenario would be saying yes—because he really was tired. Go home, put distance between them, protect himself from whatever this was. But instead, he replied, "No. Let's go."

Heeseung's face brightened. They bypassed the bus stop and headed toward the beach instead. The suburb was quieter this way, more residential. They passed houses with warm lights in the windows, heard the muffled sound of TVs and conversations from inside.

"Can I ask you something?" Heeseung asked after a while.

"Sure."

"Do you ever feel like you're pretending? Like, acting like you've figured everything out but not really…" He trailed off, struggling for words. "I don't know how to explain it."

Jake understood more than Heeseung knew. "Sometimes. I guess."

"Really?" Heeseung looked relieved. "It's weird, right? You act like everything's fine. But something feels off, and you can't figure out what it is."

"Yeah."

They walked in silence after that. The beach came into view, and they stopped at the low wall that separated the street from the sand. Heeseung leaned against it, and Jake followed. They watched the waves ripple, slowly getting allured by the gentle rhythm.

"I'm glad we're friends," Heeseung said quietly. "I know I keep saying this, but I don't think I say that enough."

Jake's chest tightened. If this were anyone else, they'd be happy hearing such a compliment—Jake wasn't anyone else, though. Friends. Always friends. He gripped the wall, feeling the rough concrete under his palms. "You don't have to say it. I know."

"Still. I want to." Heeseung turned to look at him, and in the dim sunlight, his face was half in shadow. "You're important to me, Jake. More than—" He stopped, seemed to reconsider his words. "Just. You're important."

More than what? Jake wanted to ask. More than the rest of the team? More than your other friends? More than anything? But he didn't. He just nodded and looked back at the ocean, at the way the water created an orange, glimmering path across from the sunset.

"Yeah." Jake heard himself agree. "You too."

They stood there for a while longer, not speaking. Just existing beside each other, breathing the same salt air, listening to the same waves. It was peaceful. But underneath it all, Jake's chest ached that familiar pain, the one that had been growing for almost a year now, spreading through his chest like roots.

When they finally started walking again, heading toward Jake's house, Heeseung's hand brushed against Jake's. Once, twice. And on the third time, Jake pulled his hand away, shoved it in his pocket. He felt Heeseung glance at him, but he didn't look back.

It was safer this way.

The tournament was two weeks away when everything started to shift.

Practice intensified. The coach had them training until their bodies gave out, then training even more. Jake's sets became more precise, sharper. He had to, for the team. Heeseung's spikes became more powerful, driven by a burning passion Jake had no idea where it came from. They were getting good together—everyone said so. A perfect pair.

It was after one of these brutal practices, when most of the team had already bid their goodbyes, that Jake saw her. The girl with long hair, as Heeseung described, was standing outside the gym, clearly waiting. She immediately gleamed when she saw Heeseung, and he smiled back, surprised but seemingly pleased.

Someone was the opposite of pleased.

Jake was still gathering his things, moving slowly on purpose, when Heeseung jogged over to her. Through the gym doors, Jake watched them talk. Heeseung mentioned her once more while they were walking, but it didn't seem like they knew each other that well, yet here they were giggling and bumping into each other like they'd been lifelong friends. Jake watched her tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, shy but interested. He watched Heeseung nod at whatever she was saying, his body language open and friendly.

"Hyung, you coming?" Jungwon appeared beside Jake, bag already slung over his shoulder.

"Yeah. Just a second."

And maybe he got too sucked into being nosy that Jungwon figured him out. The latter followed his gaze, saw Heeseung with the girl. He placed a hand on Jake's shoulder, his expression somewhat sympathetic. "Hyung—"

"Let's go." Jake shrugged the hand off and grabbed his bag, heading for the door. He had to pass them to leave. Had to smile politely when the girl glanced at him, had to act like he was okay when Heeseung said, "Oh, hey Jakey! This is Yeongae. She's from Jay's class."

"Nice to meet you," Jake said. His voice sounded normal. Polite. He was so good at sounding normal now that he didn't even have to exert that much effort into hiding the fact that he didn't care about this girl.

"You too! Heeseung talks about you all the time. He says you two are always amazing on the court."

On the court. Right. "Of course. He's a good player."

"And Jake's the best setter," Heeseung added, grinning. Then, he completely turned to Jake. "You heading out? Want to grab food together?"

Was he dumb? With her standing right there, clearly wanting time with Heeseung? Hell no. "Can't. Have homework."

"Oh, okay." Was that disappointment in Heeseung's voice? Jake couldn't tell, and he didn't want to dwell on it either. "Text me later then?"

"Sure." But he wouldn't.

Jake excused himself and walked away. He didn't look back, but he could still hear them laughing. He made it three blocks before he had to stop, leaned against a wall, and breathed. His chest hurt suddenly. Maybe it was the lack of air from practice, but it burned—a lot. His hands were shaking, and he tried to calm himself down. Because this was fucking stupid. He was being stupid. Heeseung was allowed to talk to girls, to smile at them, to have a life outside of their friendship. Jake had no claim to him, no right to feel like this.

But he did feel like this. It hurt him. He was suffocating from the ashes of romance crisping up on the fireplace he thought he'd share with someone. He was drowning in the waves of realization that he was just supposed to stand there and let it happen.

Because clearly, in the end, he couldn't really do anything.

His phone buzzed just before he passed the bus stop.

Heeseung: you sure you dont want to eat? i can ditch and catch up with you

Jake stared at the message. Heeseung would ditch. For him. Leave that girl standing there to walk Jake home, to eat convenience store ramyeon at their plastic table, to do what they always did. Because they were friends. Best friends. And that's what friends did. Settle for something nice while someone else took the bullet instead.

No, he wouldn't want that either.

Jake: its ok. spend time with her. c u tomorrow.

He put his phone away and walked home alone. Somehow, the walk back home felt tedious than something he'd look forward to. The streets felt longer without Heeseung beside him, the silence deafening. The supposed short ten-minute walk stretched to almost half an hour. At home, he went straight to his room, dropped his bag, and leaned by the window. The ocean was barely visible in the distance, just a dark line against a darker sky.

His phone buzzed again.

Heeseung: yeongae seems pretty cool.

Heeseung: might ask her out.

Jake read the message three times. Then he turned his phone off and lay down on his bed, staring at the ceiling until the shapes started to blur. And for the first time since summer started, the sky around him finally wept.

The next few days were at a careful distance. Jake perfected his excuses—one instance, he had homework, another time he had to help his mom, then most of the time he was feeling "tired". Heeseung noticed, he definitely did. He kept asking if Jake was okay, if something was wrong. And Jake kept lying, kept saying everything was fine, kept watching as Heeseung slowly stopped asking. Until he had to stop pretending because they just… stopped whatever they were once doing.

They still practiced together. Still had that connection on the court that everyone praised. But afterward, when the gym emptied, Jake always had somewhere to be. Always left before Heeseung could suggest walking together.

He told himself it was better this way. He hated himself for knowing that it clearly broke something in Heeseung when the shine in his eyes one day faded, replaced with a distant, controlled gaze that only concentrated on the ball. Jake hated himself because Heeseung didn't want to admit that whatever was happening hurt him too. But the distance would help, would let these feelings fade. And then he'd be normal again.

But Heeseung tried. He still did. And every instance hurt Jake more. Every time he saw Heeseung's confused expression when he reached out, and Jake pulled back, it felt like something within him was collapsing.

On a Thursday night, a week before the tournament, the team went out for dinner—a pre-tournament tradition. Well, something the team agreed on as a mini reward for working too hard recently. Jake thought about skipping, but he knew that would be too obvious. So he went, sat at the far end of the table, and tried to blend into the background.

Heeseung sat across from him—the guy literally argued with Jay just to be able to sit there. He kept looking at Jake throughout the meal with this expression that bothered him. Concern, or hurt. Whatever. Jake focused on his food, on the conversations around him, on anything but Heeseung's eyes fixated on his face.

After dinner, everyone started to disperse. Jay offered Jake a ride, but before he could accept, Heeseung chimed in, "I'll walk him. We're going the same route anyway."

Jake opened his mouth to protest, but Heeseung took his hand and said goodbye to everyone. They walked in silence for the first few blocks, hands still intertwined. The night was abnormally cool, making Jake shiver slightly. The sky was clear, a few stars visible despite the light pollution, and he could see Heeseung's face. The guy seemed appalled. Annoyed? An expression Jake never saw from Heeseung until now. But he remained composed to avoid suspicion, other hand in his pocket, eyes forward.

"Okay, what's going on?" Heeseung cut through the silence finally, letting him go. He turned to Jake, and immediately his expression softened.

"Nothing."

"Don't give me that." Heeseung stepped closer, forcing Jake to step back. "I can tell that you've been avoiding me for over a week. You barely talk to me anymore. You don't even say goodbye after training anymore. Tell me what's going on."

"I'm just busy, Heeseung."

"Fucking bullshit." Jake flinched at the word. It wasn't that often he heard the other curse, but when he did, it meant anything but good. "You're not busy," Heeseung emphasized the word with air-quotations. "You're obviously avoiding me. And I want to know why."

Jake avoided his gaze and tried to step around him, but Heeseung moved to block him. They stood there in the middle of the sidewalk, facing each other like opponents across a net.

"Jake, did I do something?" Heeseung asked, and his voice cracked slightly. "Because if I did, just tell me. Please. I'll fix it. Whatever it is. Tell me."

You didn't do anything wrong, that's the problem. It's all me. You're just being yourself, and I'm the one who can't handle it without thinking anything weird. "You didn't do anything."

"Then why—" Heeseung ran his hand through his hair, puffed his cheeks. Jake hadn't seen him this agitated because of him. It was… amusing? "Can you explain to me why it feels like you're pulling away? It's like you're here but you're not really here?"

Because I am. Staying close to you hurts, and pulling away hurts. There's no better way. "I don't know what you want me to say."

"At least the truth would be nice."

Jake laughed, but it was empty. "The truth?"

"Yeah. Just talk to me. Please." Heeseung stepped closer. "We're best friends, Jake. We tell each other everything. Or at least, I thought we did."

"We do."

"Then why can't I feel you anymore?"

"I've always been here, Heeseung. Maybe our lives just got too… busy."

Heeseung lingered on his words for a moment. His tensed shoulders dropped, face worried. "Can you just tell me what's wrong?"

No. I can't. Because telling you would ruin everything. Because I'd rather have you like this. It frustrates and confuses me, but you're still in my life, and I'd rather be hurt knowing that being beside you can at least give me the momentary drug than losing you forever. And maybe loving you is ruining my life, but at least you'd be there still asking me if I'm okay—and that's enough.

"Nothing's wrong," Jake repeated. "I've just been dealing with stuff. It's not about you."

"Well, it feels like it's about me." Heeseung's voice was low, almost a whisper. "It feels like you're trying to get rid of me."

"I'm not—" Jake stopped, took a breath. "I'm not trying to get rid of you."

"Then stop avoiding me. Stop leaving me before we can talk. Stop—" Heeseung held him by the shoulders. "Stop disappearing on me." He paused for a while, seemingly mustering up the courage to say, "Because I hate the feeling of losing you, Jake."

Jake saw Heeseung's face, at the genuine hurt there, and felt something finally break down inside him. He was being fucking selfish. Pushing Heeseung away to protect himself, but hurting the other in the process. And somehow that thought was the most painful he had experienced yet. That wasn't fair. None of this was Heeseung's fault.

"I'm sorry," Jake said finally. "I didn't mean to make you feel like that."

"Then what's going on? Just help me understand."

I can't. "I've just been in my head too much. You know how I get before tournaments."

It wasn't entirely a lie. He did get anxious before tournaments and he usually isolated himself from the team the closer it approached. They learned to work around it, because that was what teams did—adjust. And Heeseung knew that most especially, and he seemed to accept this explanation, his expression softening slightly.

"I know. God, I know. But you don't have to deal with it alone." Heeseung's grip tightened on his shoulders. "I'm here. I'm always here for you. You know that, right?"

Jake nodded. Felt the weight of Heeseung's hand, warm through his jacket. He wanted to lean into it and pull away at the same time. The intimacy started to burn through the fabric, prickling his skin.

"Wanna get ramyeon? Like we used to?"

Like we used to. As if it had been years instead of just over a week. But Jake found himself agreeing, following Heeseung to their usual convenience store, falling back into their usual routine like nothing had just happened. Because maybe distance wasn't the answer. Maybe he just needed to try harder to be okay with what they were. With what they'd always be.

And admittedly, he did miss Heeseung so fucking much.

At the convenience store, they did the same patterns. Heeseung grabbed their ramyeon cups, paid before Jake could protest, and prepared them at the hot water station. They sat at their usual plastic table outside, and for a while, it almost felt normal again.

"So," Heeseung said, blowing on his noodles. "I asked Yeongae out. Like on an actual date."

Well, shit, there it was. The crash back to reality, not even a few minutes deep into it. Jake kept his eyes on his ramyeon. "What did she say?"

"She said yes. We're going out tomorrow night." There was joy laced around Heeseung's tone, but the nervousness was printed on it too. "Thing is, I've never actually taken someone on a proper date before. And she seems like the type of girl to take this stuff seriously. Any advice?"

Don't go. Stay here with me instead. "I don't know. Just be yourself? That's usually enough."

"How helpful," Heeseung remarked dryly, but he was still grinning ear-to-ear. This guy was so hard to comprehend… "To be honest, I'm actually kind of nervous. Is that weird?"

"It's normal."

"You think so?" Heeseung narrowed his eyes at Jake. "You ever been on a date before?"

"No."

"What? Really? Never?" Heeseung's mouth hung low, eyes widened. "I figured with how you look, you'd have people lining up to date you."

How I look? Jake didn't know what to do with that. "I've never been interested in dating anyone."

"Huh. Well, when you do find someone, they'll be really lucky." Heeseung went back to his ramyeon, casual, like he hadn't just said something that made Jake's heart flutter. "You're an incredible person, Jake. Best person I know, honestly. You deserve someone as good as you are."

There went another label from Heeseung. Best person. Best friend. Best setter. Always best something, but never the thing Jake actually wanted to be.

"Thanks," Jake muttered.

They finished eating. The temperature had dropped, and Jake could feel his skin tingle when the cold ocean hit him. Heeseung insisted on walking him home, and they stepped on the pavement together, shoulders occasionally brushing. Something felt off, but Jake didn't want to examine it. He didn't want to instigate another riff between them. Not again, at least for a while.

"I'm glad we talked," Heeseung said when they reached Jake's gate. "I was seriously worried I'd done something to upset you. Or that you were—I don't know. Maybe getting tired of me or something."

"I could never get tired of you." The words came out before Jake could stop them. Heeseung looked at him, and something passed between them—something Jake couldn't name but felt singe in every part of his body.

"I like that," Heeseung replied softly. "Because I don't think I could handle losing you."

Then he did that thing again—reached out like he was going to touch Jake's face, his shoulder, anything too intimate for "friends"—then he seemed to think better of it. He settled for flicking Jake's forehead, then letting his hand drop. He smiled that smaller smile that Jake was seeing more often lately, the usual one he grew to admire, slowly burying itself in their arcane situation.

"See you at practice tomorrow?"

"Yeah."

Jake's eyes followed Heeseung walk away, standing at the gate longer than necessary, even after Heeseung had disappeared around the corner. The sky cleared as they walked home, and Jake was now able to see the stars blink back at him. He stared at the vastness of space and felt very small.

In the sea of a thousand stars in the sky, one carried the wish he whispered a few months ago.

He checked his phone, and as usual, he already received a message—something he'd miss during the days he avoided Heeseung.

Heeseung: thx for tonight.

Heeseung: missed talking to you

Jake typed and deleted several responses before finally settling on a simple thumbs-up emoji. It felt like too much and not enough at the same time. But what else could he reply that wasn't too out there? Everything he did with Heeseung felt like that lately.

He lay in bed that night, thinking about tomorrow. Heeseung would go on a date with someone else, as he said. He thought about how he needed to be okay with this, be supportive about it, even when it felt like he was left alone in the air. He needed to find a way to be happy for his best friend even when it felt like something was being scooped out of his chest.

Almost a year of these feelings. Almost a year of wanting something he couldn't have. How much longer could he keep this up?

Was he too late? Did he even have the chance?

Jake closed his eyes and tried to sleep, but all he could see was Heeseung's face, the way he'd looked tonight when he said he couldn't handle losing Jake. Like it mattered so much. Like Jake mattered to him.

But not in the way Jake wanted. Never in the way he wanted.

Friday's practice was torture. Jake couldn't focus since early morning—slept through class and asked a classmate to send him the notes. During training, he kept mistiming his sets, earning frustrated looks from his coach. Heeseung kept trying to catch his eye, cheer him up, but Jake avoided his gaze, focused on the mechanics of his tosses instead of the painful knot in his stomach.

Because tonight, Heeseung would be on a date. On that date, Heeseung would be smiling at someone else, holding someone else's attention, maybe holding someone else's hand. And Jake had to be okay with it. He had to be supportive. Had to be the best friend Heeseung needed through thick and thin.

After practice, Heeseung pulled him aside. He'd been checking up on him more, stealing unnecessary glances through drills. "Hey, everything okay?"

"Fine. Just can't focus."

"The tournament again?" Heeseung's voice was gentle, almost warm like an embrace. "Don't worry about it, Jake. We're ready."

"Okay."

Heeseung studied him for a moment, then seemed to come to some decision. "Look, tonight—"

"Have fun," Jake interrupted. He couldn't hear whatever Heeseung was about to say. Couldn't stand here and talk about this date like it was nothing. "I mean it. You deserve it."

"Thanks. But I was just going to say that if you need anything, you can call me. Even if I'm—"

"I won't need anything. Go on your date. Don't worry about me."

Heeseung frowned. "I always worry about you though."

Why? Why do you worry about me? Why do you wait for me after practice? Why do you walk me home every day? Why do you look at me sometimes like I'm something precious? Why do you do all these things that feel like more than friendship? Why do you keep giving me hope?

But he didn't ask any of it. Just forced an abnormally wide grin and said, "I'll be fine. Promise."

"Okay. I'll text you after?"

"Sure."

Jake left before Heeseung could say anything else. He walked home alone, taking the long route past the beach. The ocean was grey today, choppy with wind. Storm clouds gathered on the horizon. And he wasn't sure if it began to rain, but his cheeks started to dampen.

It seemed like this year's summer was a wet one.

At home, he tried to distract himself. Did homework, helped his mom with dinner, and attempted to read a book he had benched for years. But his mind kept drifting back to Heeseung and all those unanswered questions. What restaurant were they at? Was Heeseung nervous? Was he being his usual charming self? Was she laughing at his jokes? Was he holding her hand?

Jake's phone stayed silent. He checked it compulsively anyway, hating himself for acting so desperate. Clingy.

Late in the night, it finally buzzed.

Heeseung: date went okay.

Jake: thats good

Heeseung: can i call you?

Jake's phone almost flew. He stared at the message. Why would Heeseung want to call him after a date with the girl he presumably liked? Did he mess up a pick-up line? Or maybe Heeseung wanted a post-date debrief with him? But his fingers moved before his brain could come up with a resolution.

Jake: sure

The phone rang immediately. Jake answered, pressing it to his ear. "Hey."

"Hey." Heeseung's voice sounded tired. "Sorry, I know it's late."

"How was it?"

"It was… fine. She's nice. Really nice. We had dinner, walked around the market a bit, and talked. I did everything you told me to." There was a pause, and Jake swore he heard Heeseung let out a long sigh. "It was nice."

That was a good sign, right? "That's good."

"I guess. I don't really know much about dating." Heeseung chuckled, but the irony was obvious. "Can I ask you something?"

"Yeah?"

"How do you know if you actually like someone? Romantically?"

Jake's breath caught. This was the last question he wanted to answer—had to come from the last person he wanted to hear it from too. "I don't know. I've never—I haven't really dated anyone."

"Right. But theoretically. How would you know?"

You'd know when you constantly think about them. Being around them makes you feel more alive. You'd memorize small details—the way they laugh, the features on their face, the sound of their voice when they're tired. And even when they hurt you, you'd still want to be near them.

"I think," Jake hovered the question carefully, "you'd just know. It would feel different from a friendship. You'd know it yourself that you want more with this person."

"Okay. But what if it doesn't? What if it just feels… comfortable? Like, the person just makes me happy?"

"Then maybe it's not romantic." Jake lay back on his bed, stared at the sky outside. "Maybe you're just trying to force it into something it's not."

Silence on the other end. Then, Heeseung hummed. "Maybe."

"Why are you asking?"

"I don't know. The whole date, I just kept thinking if…" Heeseung trailed off. "Actually never mind. It's stupid."

"I doubt that."

"It is, though. Because—" Another pause. Jake could hear Heeseung breathing on the other end, could imagine him in his room, probably lying down too, staring at his ceiling. "Hey, Jake? Do you ever feel like you're supposed to want something, so you try to search for it, but you can't really find it? Like it doesn't quite fit?"

Jake wanted to laugh. Because yes, he did. Every day. He did whenever someone assumed he was interested in girls. Every time he tried to convince himself that what he felt was just friendship.

"I know what you mean."

"It's frustrating."

"I know."

They sat in silence for a moment. Then Heeseung said, "Thanks. For listening."

"Anytime."

"I mean it. You're—" Heeseung paused. "You're really important to me, Jake. I can't tell you enough. But you are, okay?"

Jake closed his eyes. "You too."

"Get some sleep. Coach will definitely tire us out tomorrow."

"Okay. You too."

"Night, Jakey."

"Night."

The call ended. Jake lay there aloof, phone still pressed to his ear, listening to the silence settling in. Outside his window, the storm clouds had rolled in. Rain started to fall, soft at first, then harder, drumming against the roof.

Jake thought about Heeseung's questions. About how you're supposed to want something. About trying to make feelings fit into the right boxes. And he wondered if maybe—just maybe—he wasn't the only one struggling with this between them.

But that thought was too dangerous. Too risky. Too loser and hopeful. So he shoved it away, turned on his side, and tried to sleep to the sound of the rain's pitter-patter.

The week before the tournament passed by. Practice every day, sometimes twice a day. Jake threw himself into it, perfecting his sets until his wrists numbed. Heeseung matched his intensity, and their quick attacks became almost telepathic. Muscle memory. They could read each other without speaking, adjust mid-play without signals.

On the court, they were in perfect sync. Off the court, completely out of sync. Things became stranger. Heeseung went on another date with Yeongae. This time, he didn't ask Jake for any advice, just mentioned it casually after practice. Jake continued to play the role he was supposed to be. Said that was good, tried to sound like he actually meant it.

But something was shifting in Heeseung too. He seemed distracted, lost in thought more often. He'd start to say something, then stop. He'd look at Jake like he was trying to figure something out. It made Jake nervous—worried.

Three days before the tournament, Jungwon suggested going to the old park after practice—the one they usually played at when the gym was closed. The team needed to unwind, Jungwon said, but they kept practicing anyway.

The park was mostly empty when they arrived. The trees were huge here, old and gnarled, their branches spreading wide as if reaching for the sky. Tire swings hung from thick ropes, worn smooth from years of use.

Most of the team scattered—some set up a mini court, some just sat on the grass, talking and laughing. Jake found himself near the swings, and said that he needed to clear his mind instead.

"Want to try?" Heeseung appeared beside him, pointing toward the empty swings.

"I'm good."

"Come on. When's the last time you had fun?" Heeseung was already walking toward them. "Join me."

Jake followed reluctantly, sitting on one of the tire swings while Heeseung claimed the one next to him. The rubber was warm and slightly supple from the sun, the rope rough under his hands.

Heeseung kicked off immediately, pumping his legs, gradually gaining height. He laughed, loud and almost childish, head thrown back. The sunlight filtered through the leaves above, creating rays and shadows across his face that moved. He looked so free like this. So careless and jovial.

Jake stayed mostly still, just rocking slightly, watching the other in adornment. There was something about seeing Heeseung like this—playful, unguarded—that made Jake yearn for more. It wasn't that bitter feeling of jealousy or longing, but something sweeter. Satisfying. Something that felt almost like contentment, like this moment was enough just as it was.

Too bad it was his own best friend.

Heeseung slowed down, dragging his feet until he was just swaying gently. He looked over at Jake and frowned. "Seriously? You're not even trying."

"I'm enjoying the view."

"What view?" Heeseung glanced around, then back at Jake. Their eyes met and stayed so. Heeseung's expression shifted when he realized what it meant. "Oh." He let out a short laugh. "Nice one."

Was Jake imagining it, or did Heeseung's cheeks flush slightly? But then Heeseung kicked off again, and the moment passed.

"Race me," Heeseung called. "See who can get higher."

"That's not how swings work."

"Who cares?"

So, Jake kicked off, started swinging properly. It had been years since he'd done this, and for a moment, he felt like a kid again—uncomplicated and distracted from things that never really mattered before. The thrill from the rash movement, the wind in his face, Heeseung's laughs, they all tangled together and mixed into an addictive sensation.

They swung in parallel, and Jake let himself get lost in it. For a few minutes, everything else faded away.

When they finally stopped, both breathing hard, Heeseung's swing drifted closer to Jake's. Close enough that their knees knocked together.

"This is nice," Heeseung said, flushed from the heat and exhaustion.

"Yeah."

"I feel like—" Heeseung breathed. "I feel like we haven't hung out like this in a while. Like, actually enjoying each other's company without it being complicated."

Jake looked at him. "Has it been complicated?"

"Hasn't it?" Heeseung asked, lips thinning. The leaves rustled as a long breeze swept past them. The question hung in the air until Heeseung continued, "Feels like something's been off since then between us. I can't exactly pinpoint when. Or maybe that's just me."

"It's not just you."

"Then what is it?" Heeseung turned on his swing to face Jake fully. "I keep trying to figure it out, and I can't. Did I do something to upset you? Are you mad—"

"I'm not mad at you."

"Then what?"

Jake could tell him everything. Right here, right now. Say the words that had been rotting in his chest for almost a year. But the rest of the team was nearby, and the sun was bright, and Heeseung was staring at him with so much genuine confusion that Jake couldn't do it. Not when things were slowly falling apart.

"It's complicated," Jake said finally.

"But—" Heeseung's swing moved slightly, bringing them even closer. Their knees were still touching. "We're best friends. Nothing should be too complicated to talk about."

"Some things still are."

"Like what?"

Like the fact that I'm fucking in love with you. Is that what you want to hear? That whenever you mention that girl, I want to bite my tongue and never see you again? I don't know how to make it stop. If I'd ever even be able to stop this feeling anymore.

"Just—things," lied Jake.

Heeseung looked like he wanted to push more, but then Jungwon called out to them, asking if they wanted to join the mock match. The moment broke. Heeseung sighed, stood up from his swing.

"We should talk," he uttered, brows sinking. "Like, actually talk. Soon."

"Okay," Jake agreed, even though the thought terrified him.

Heeseung reached down, offered his hand. Jake took it, let Heeseung pull him up. They stood there for a second, hands clasped, close enough that Jake could see Heeseung's moles on his face.

Then Heeseung let go, and they walked back to the group together. But Jake couldn't stop thinking about what Heeseung had said. We should talk. What did Heeseung want to talk about? Didn't they already clear things out that night? Jake felt like he was standing on the edge of something, teetering, about to fall one way or another.

That night, lying in bed, he couldn't sleep. His mind kept replaying the day—Heeseung's laughter, that moment when their eyes met, and something shifted. The way Heeseung had reacted Oh like he'd just realized something.

Jake's phone buzzed, and he didn't even have to look to see who it was.

Heeseung: you awake?

Jake: yes

Heeseung: cant sleep.

Heeseung: tournament nerves probs

Jake: same

Heeseung: can i ask you something weird?

Jake's heart rate picked up for some reason.

Jake: ?

Heeseung: do you ever think about us? like about our friendship?

Jake: why?

Heeseung: idk somtimes it feels like

The typing indicator appeared and disappeared several times. Jake waited, barely breathing, trying to understand what he meant.

Heeseung: nvm it's late. get some sleep

Heeseung: see you tomorrow.

Jake stared at his phone, waited to see if Heeseung would say more, but the screen stayed dark. Whatever Heeseung had been about to say remained unsaid, hanging in the space between them like the ever-changing limbo of their odd friendship.

Jake put his phone down and stared at the darkness until morning light started to creep through his window.

The next evening, the last practice before the tournament ran late. By the time they finished, the sun had already long set, and the sky was the deep twilight that came just before the sky succumbed fully into darkness. Most of the team had already left, but Jake and Heeseung took their time cleaning up.

"Want to take the long way?" Heeseung suggested as they stepped out of the gym. "It's nice out. We could use some relaxing before the tournament."

Jake looked up at the sky. There were no clouds in sight, the moon and the stars were already beginning to appear like pinpricks on the sea. Jake was sure he had found the same star he wished on a year ago, shining brightly at him like it had finally found its place in the universe.

"That's fine."

They walked together, their usual route taking them toward the residential area, but instead of turning toward Jake's house, Heeseung led them toward the bridge that crossed the inlet—the one that overlooked the ocean, and where it connected their suburb to the city.

"Haven't been here in a while," Jake mentioned as they stepped onto the bridge.

"Yeah. Forgot how nice it is." Heeseung walked to the middle of the bridge, leaning against the railing. Jake joined him, and they stood there looking out at the water. The ocean was dark and calm tonight, reflecting the lights from the town like scattered gems. The air smelled like salt and something else that only came with coastal evenings—almost like Jake's childhood, coming back to him in an instant.

They awed at the beautiful sight in silence for a while, just existing in each other's proximity. Jake was aware of how close they were standing despite the spacious bridge, their shoulders almost touching. He could hear Heeseung's steady breathing, and the warmth radiating from his body opposite the cooling temperature deep in the night.

"Jakey," Heeseung called out suddenly, his voice filled with wonder. "Look."

Jake looked up to where Heeseung pointed. The moon had risen while they weren't paying attention—huge and so close it felt like one could reach out and touch it. It hung low over the ocean, casting a bright light around the darkness that enveloped the sky. The way the moon appeared too close was magical, unreal.

"Wow," Jake breathed.

"Right?" Heeseung was grinning now, that childlike excitement that Jake loved so much lighting up his face. "It's so big tonight. And bright. Look—" He held his hand toward the sky, positioning it so his fingers curved around the moon from their perspective. He glanced at Jake and gleamed like he'd discovered something extraordinary. "Jakey, I'm holding the moon."

Jake's heart got complicated. It went rampant, and he nearly snatched it out of his chest just to stop it from beating so madly. He couldn't resist staring at how beautiful Heeseung looked under the moonlight, holding the moon between his hands, grinning back at him like he was sharing the most precious thing in the world.

Heeseung had appeared in his dreams many times—but even the real moments felt like one.

"Your turn," Heeseung brought him back to reality, turning to him with that bright smile. "Try it."

"I don't—"

"Come on." Heeseung stepped behind him, reached for Jake's wrists. His touch singed through Jake's skin, gentle as he lifted the latter's arm toward the sky. "Like this." He adjusted Jake's fingers, positioning them just right, and suddenly Jake could see it—the celestial body sitting perfectly in his palm like a mere precious pearl. "See? You're holding the moon right now."

But Jake wasn't looking at the moon anymore. He was looking at Heeseung, at the way the moonlight reflected in his eyes, sparkling like it was another star swimming through the sky, shining like they held their own constellations. The soft smile on Heeseung's face stayed, guiding Jake, and his thumb brushing against the latter's pulse point. Jake could see his own reflection at how close they were now.

"Jake?" Heeseung's voice cut his thoughts, his face dangerously close to Jake's.

"You're right," Jake managed, almost choking on his own words. "I see it."

They stood like that for a moment, hands still raised toward the sky, Heeseung's fingers still wrapped around Jake's wrist. The world felt very small suddenly—just the two of them on this bridge, the moon overhead, the ocean watching below like it was witnessing their secret moments.

"Pretty cool, huh?" Heeseung said, but his voice had changed. Gotten quieter, more uncertain.

"It is." Jake's heart was pounding so hard he was sure Heeseung could hear it. "Really cool."

Heeseung's gaze lingered on his face, searching for the unknown. His hands were still wrapped around Jake's wrists, and Jake could feel his thumb moving in small circles against his skin, could feel Heeseung's chest heave as he breathed—unconsciously, maybe, or maybe not.

"Heeseung," Jake started, not sure what he was going to say, just knowing he needed to say something before he uttered something he'd regret.

That seemed to grab Heeseung's attention, he blinked, coming back to himself. He gently dropped Jake's wrist and stepped back, and the loss of contact felt like strings snapping. "We should probably head back. It's getting late."

"Right." Jake pocketed his fidgeting hands, longing for the warmth of Heeseung's touch like a cold spot on his skin. "We should."

They started walking again, but the air shifted. The comfortable silence from before felt different now—full of things neither of them was saying. Jake kept replaying the moment in his head—the way Heeseung had stared at him like he was the moon himself. It had felt like something… more. Like something significant that Jake lucked out on. Like maybe, just maybe, Jake was being pessimistic and there was a deeper meaning to their "whatevertuationship".

But that was closed-off territory. Dangerous thinking. Jake had been down this road before, reading too much into casual touches and lingering looks, and hurting himself in the end because of his delusions. Heeseung was just being Heeseung. He was the guy who was friendly, tactile, and comfortable with physical affection. It didn't mean anything. It didn't go deeper than that.

Except…

Except Heeseung kept stealing glances at him as they walked. Except his hands were shoved deep in his pockets, like he was deliberately keeping them away from Jake. Except when they reached Jake's gate, he hesitated even longer than usual, his face written with utter confusion, but he couldn't find the words for it.

"Tonight was nice," Heeseung said. "Us relaxing, I mean. We should do that more often. Go places. Not just the convenience store."

Jake smiled. "That would be nice."

"Okay. Great." Heeseung reflected his smile, but it was that smaller smile again, the one that didn't quite reach his eyes. "Night, Jake."

"Night."

Jake watched him walk away, hands still in his pockets, shoulders slightly hunched. His steps were slower, lingering. He stopped and turned around, and when he realized Jake was still watching him, he waved and finally disappeared around the corner. A sigh of relief Jake had been holding in finally escaped him, he looked up at the moon that started this whole thing. Still bright and almost mocking him for his dumbfounded state.

Jake dragged himself straight to his room and collapsed on his bed. His wrist still felt warm, ached where Heeseung had touched it. He held his hand up toward the ceiling, curving his fingers like Heeseung had shown him, but it wasn't the same without the other there guiding him, without the soft voice in his ear, without him standing so close.

A few minutes later, Jake's phone buzzed.

Heeseung: i just looked it up and it says that the moon looks the biggest when it's near the horizon. it's called the 'moon illusion'

Heeseung: thought that was cool

Heeseung: anyway goodnight jake

Jake stared at the messages, his chest tight. Heeseung had gone out his way to research something so trivial. Had thought about it enough to search information about it.

Jake: thx for sharing

Heeseung: we can go back whenever you want.. maybe try to hold the stars next or whatever hahah

Jake: i'd like that

Heeseung: me too

Heeseung: going to bed now. see you tomorrow.

Jake put his phone down and stared at the ceiling. The memory of tonight played on loop, so as the endless doubts. Maybe he was reading too much into it. Maybe it had just been a nice, wholesome moment between friends. Maybe the way Heeseung had looked at him didn't mean what Jake desperately wanted it to mean. But he couldn't stop replaying it anyway. Couldn't let go of the hope that was starting to become too dangerous.

Soar on the wings of hope that could burn if he got too close to the sun.

He held his hand up toward the ceiling again, curved his fingers around empty air, and tried to remember what it had felt like when Heeseung's hand had been on his wrist, guiding him. He tried to hold onto that moment, let it rust in the cacophony of his doubts and wishful thinking, even though he knew it might be all he'd ever get.

Outside his window, the moon still hung bright and full in the sky. Impossibly large, close enough to touch.

It was almost his.

The tournament came faster than Jake hoped. Suddenly, it was the day, and they were loading equipment onto the bus, heading to the tournament venue in the next city over. The energy and adrenaline were high—everyone was excited, nervous, and ready.

Jake sat by the window, watching the landscape change as they left their suburb behind. The shabby residential areas gradually transitioned into modern, complex apartments, and suddenly, they were on the road with fancy cars and busy highways. Heeseung slid into the seat next to him, of course. Always next to him.

"You ready?" Heeseung asked.

"Do I have a choice?"

Heeseung nudged him. "We're going to kill it today, I can feel it." He sounded confident, as he always was. He put his earbuds in, offered one to Jake. It was something they did sometimes—shared music on long bus rides. Jake took the earbud, and Heeseung pressed play.

It was one of Jake's favourite songs. He couldn't believe that Heeseung had remembered him humming it once when he thought he was alone in the locker room.

They let the bus ride offer them momentary peace before the chaos that would engulf them later on, shoulders pressed together because of the cramped seat, listening to the music and watching the world pass by. Jake let himself have this moment, memorizing it for later—the weight of Heeseung against his side, the shared soundtrack, the anticipation of the day ahead.

If only he could keep moments like this in a locket and bury it deep in his mind.

When they arrived, the competitive atmosphere was at an all-time high. The venue was massive, with multiple courts set up in a huge gymnasium. Teams from different schools were there, warming up, strategizing, and some even doing interviews. The noise was overwhelming—whistles, people cheering on for their team, the constant sound of volleyballs hitting floors. And this wasn't the first time that Jake's team competed in a tournament, but this one really showed how significant it was compared to the others.

Somehow, even after all that mental preparation, he could feel both the adrenaline and anxiety boil in his chest.

Thankfully, their first match was in two hours. They still had time to prepare and say their spiels. The team found their designated area, started warming up. Jake went through his usual routine—stretching, practicing tosses, getting his mind in the right space. Heeseung was bouncing around, full of nervous energy he tried to burn off, joking with the others, but clearly keyed up.

"Hey." Heeseung jogged over to him, slightly out of breath from warming up. "How are you feeling?"

"Fine."

"You look tense."

"Tournament anxiety."

Heeseung huffed and shook his head. "Of course." He glanced around, then stepped closer, lowered his voice. "Whatever happens today, we're in this together. Okay?"

"Okay."

"Even if we lose—"

"We won't."

"But in case that we do—" Heeseung insisted, patting his shoulder, "—it doesn't change anything. You and me, we're solid."

Jake gawked at Heeseung for his sudden pep-talk, but the earnestness in his expression said enough. "Right. We're solid."

"Good." Heeseung's hand came up, like he was going to touch Jake's face, but then their coach whistled for them.

The first match began, and those exhausting weeks made it child's play. They won it easily. Jake's sets were perfect, Heeseung's spikes were unpredictable and quick. The team moved through the sets like a single unit, everyone in sync as soon as the rally started. In the locker room after, everyone was celebrating, high on the victorious adrenaline and success. A good omen for the rest of the day. Hopefully.

"That's one down," Heeseung commented as he collapsed next to Jake on the bench. His face was flushed, still plastering that wide grin. "That last spike was insane. Perfect set, man. Perfect."

"You made it look so easy."

"'Cause of you," Heeseung corrected. He bumped Jake's shoulder, wrapping an arm around him. "This is it. We'll win this year. I can feel it."

Jake hoped so too.

Their second match was harder. The opposing team was good, had clearly done their research, and adjusted to outplay them. They kept trying to block the connection between Jake and Heeseung, disrupting their timing with unpredictability and sheer force. Sunoo was struggling with receiving the attacks, but he managed. And soon, Jake found an opening and Heeseung quickly adapted to his sets. The team slowly found its tempo again. They found new angles and proper timing. They won, but barely.

By the time they finished their third match—another win—everyone was worn out. Physically and mentally. They'd made it to tomorrow's semifinals. Coach was pleased, but still expected more. "Don't celebrate yet. Energize tonight. Tomorrow's a tougher battle."

The bus ride home was quieter. Most of the team dozed off, worn out from the day. Jake sat in his usual spot, staring out the window. The sun was setting, hues of orange and pink bleeding together.

Heeseung's head dropped onto Jake's shoulder, already half-asleep. Jake froze for a moment, then carefully adjusted so Heeseung would be more comfortable. The latter made a small sound, shifted closer, his breathing evening out into sleep. The exhaustion was radiating off of Heeseung, clearly drained from the rage he set off on the court today. Jake couldn't even start to describe how passionate the other person got the moment they stepped on court.

This really means so much to you, huh? Jake sat very still, barely breathing. This was the closest they'd been since that night on the bridge. And god, he'd already missed it. The casual intimacy that Heeseung seemed to think was friendly, but Jake craved like oxygen. Jake's gaze fell onto Heeseung's face, relaxed in sleep. Without thinking, Jake's hand moved, almost touching Heeseung's hair, then stopped. He couldn't. Shouldn't. This was already too much, more than he deserved.

So he just sat there, Heeseung's weight against his side, and stared off at the sky fading from pink to indigo. He watched the first stars appear, tried to recall which one he made his wish on. Memorizing every second of this, knowing it couldn't last.

When the bus pulled into the school parking lot, Jake gently shook Heeseung awake. The latter blinked up at him, disoriented, then seemed to realize where he'd been sleeping. He straightened up quickly, rubbing his eyes.

"Sorry. Didn't mean to use you as a pillow."

"It's fine."

They gathered their things, filed off the bus. Most of the team dispersed quickly as soon as they bid their goodbyes—eager to get home, get food, and rest. Jake started walking toward the street, but Heeseung caught up with him.

"I'll walk you."

"No need. You're probably exhausted."

"So are you." Heeseung followed him, one side of his lips curved. "Besides, when have I ever not walked you home?"

Jake couldn't argue with that. They walked in silence at first, both tired. The streets were nearly barren, most houses already dark. It was later than Jake had realized—almost midnight.

"Good day," Heeseung said eventually.

"We played well."

"We always play together." Heeseung's voice was soft, probably from exhaustion. "It's like… I don't know. We're all connected somehow. Especially you and me. I can always tell where you're going to set the ball before you even toss it."

"That's what happens when you practice together enough."

Heeseung pondered for a while until he stopped walking. Jake took a few more steps before realizing and turning back. Heeseung was standing directly under a streetlight, looking at him with that expression again—the one Jake still hadn't figured out. "Sometimes it feels more than that. Like something else."

Jake's heart picked up. "What?"

"I don't know. I've been trying to figure it out, but it's hard." Heeseung rubbed his hand on his face, frustrated. "Everything's been weird lately. With you. With me. With—" He gestured to them. "Everything."

"Heeseung—"

"And I thought maybe if I just… if I tried to be what everyone expected me to be—do normal things—then maybe I'd have purpose. All of this would make sense. But it didn't. It just made me realize that—" Heeseung stopped when he realized Jake had been watching him spiral, shook his head. "Sorry. I'm tired. I'm not making sense."

But Jake's mind was racing. "What are you trying to say?" he asked carefully.

Heeseung stared at him for a long moment, then a heavy breath escaped his lips. "I don't know. I don't know what I'm trying to say. I just know that this shit is driving me crazy."

They stood there, facing each other under the streetlight, the silence stretching between them. Jake could end Heeseung's spiral—tell him everything he had to know. The reason why this whole thing started. But fear caged him. He feared rejection, ruining their friendship, and making everything worse.

"We should rest," Jake forced out despite the urges. "Big day tomorrow."

Heeseung's expression dulled—disappointed, maybe. But he slowly nodded, pulling himself back, and began walking. "Right."

They walked the rest of the way to Jake's house without speaking. At the gate, Heeseung avoided Jake's gaze, hesitating.

"Jake?"

Jake simply hummed, feeling the exhaustion control his body.

"Whatever this is, we'll figure it out. Right?"

Jake wanted to believe that. Wanted to have Heeseung's confidence that things would work themselves out. "It will." I hope.

"Okay. Yeah." Heeseung smiled, a tired one. Sadder, even. "Get some sleep."

They waved goodbye and this time, Jake didn't watch Heeseung disappear onto that same corner, slouching because of something he probably caused. He went straight to his room with his head spinning, replaying everything Heeseung had said.

Was it possible? Was their friendship dying? Or was this a test of time they both had to fight through? Was fighting for this friendship even worth it when one of them viewed the other as more than friends? The thoughts were the only thing keeping him awake, but thankfully, the exhaustion loomed over them, and he could feel himself dozing off. At least for once, he didn't have to spend the night overthinking as much.

Well, he couldn't let himself think. Couldn't let himself get distracted and sabotage the team. Not until they win the tournament.

And maybe after he could come clean and end things for good. For Heeseung's sake.

For his own good.

The semifinals were brutal. Their opponents were a powerhouse team from the main city, with a setter who was rumored to intimidate everyone beneath him, the one scouted by professional teams. But Jake and Heeseung held onto something they probably didn't have—trust, as cheesy as it was. They believed in that indefinable connection that made them move like two bodies of one mind.

In the first set, they lost badly. Coach called a timeout, and the team huddled together. The atmosphere today was more tense, the effect of the defeat weighing down on them.

"They're blocking your usual attacks," Coach said to Heeseung. "You need to adjust. Sim—" He turned to Jake. "Mix things up. Let them guess. Be unpredictable."

Jake just nodded, still blaming himself for the few fuck-ups they had. But Heeseung went out of his way to still cheer him up despite the mistakes. Their eyes caught each other across the huddle. He gave Jake a small nod. They didn't need words to uplift each other.

And for Jake, seeing the other was already enough to boost his spirit.

By the second set, they started to learn. Adapted to their opponent's tactics. Jake varied his tosses—high, low, quick, delayed. Heeseung read every single one, adjusted his approaches, and timed his attacks. And out of chance, they won the set. Then the third by a small gap.

By the fourth set, both teams were already exhausted. The rallies became rougher, the cheering dimming as everyone concentrated on where the ball flew. Jake's body was running on pure adrenaline, almost having a mind of its own as he continued setting, blocking, receiving—anything to gain a point. The score was tight: 24 - 22, in their favor. It was match point, and unfortunately, Jake's serve.

He took a deep breath, bounced the ball twice. Looked across the net at the opposing team who were definitely cursing him behind his back, then at his own team. All eyes were on him, like his head was under a guillotine for execution. The court stilled, waiting. Then he saw Heeseung, who was watching him with absolute confidence, but the worry was beneath that same confidence. His lips were thin, his face flushed, but he managed to show a thumbs-up.

He always believed Jake would deliver.

Jake exhaled, tossed the ball up, jumped, and served. It cleared the net, landed in the back corner, as someone tried to save it. But it was an ace.

The gym suddenly erupted. Their team rushed together, screaming, celebrating. They'd made it to the finals because of—him? His body was swept up in the chaos before the moment could even sink in, teammates pulling him into a hug, shouting praises in his ear. And then Heeseung was there, pulling Jake into a tight embrace, lifting him slightly off the ground.

"I knew you'd do it!" Heeseung was yelling over the noise. "I knew it!"

Jake held on, let himself be drugged under the ecstasy of pure celebration. Everything was overwhelming, but one thing was sure, Heeseung's embrace was the only thing he'd remember from this day. When Heeseung put him down, his hands lingered on Jake's shoulders, and they stood there grinning at each other like idiots while the rowdy celebration continued to blast around them.

The finals were in an hour. They had time to rest, rehydrate, and refocus. The team retreated to their designated area, the energy and adrenaline still high but more controlled now.

One more match and Jake would finally get a peace of mind.

He sat against the wall, drinking water, trying to calm his racing heart. He wasn't really sure if it was because of the victory rush or the way Heeseung hugged him tightly. Either way, he was thankful he didn't fuck it up this time. They were on a match away from winning the tournament, even the smallest mistakes brought the weight of the world behind their backs, and disappointing his team was the last thing he wanted to do—Heeseung too.

He sat down next to Jake, close enough that their shoulders touched. "You okay?"

"Yeah. Just… processing."

"One more," Heeseung blurted out, his breath heavy. "One more match, and we've got it."

"Don't get too cocky."

"I'm not. I'm just confident in us. And—" Heeseung turned and pointed a finger at Jake's chest. "—especially in you."

Jake was thankful that they had just finished an exhausting match, or else he wouldn't have a rational reason for the fact that his cheeks flared up. "Thanks."

"We're good together, Jake. On the court. Off the court. We just… work well together. Do you feel the same way?"

Jake's mouth dried up. "Yeah. We really do."

"Hey." Heeseung's voice dropped lower, face more serious. "After this is over, can we talk? Like, really talk?"

"About what?"

"About us. About—" Heeseung glanced around, but everyone else was occupied. He leaned closer. "I need to tell you something, and I keep chickening out, but I can't hold it any more."

Jake's heart was hammering. "Okay."

"Okay." Heeseung echoed, looking relieved. His expression switched back onto that passionate determination. He raised a fist at Jake, waiting. "But first, we win this thing. Right?"

Jake smiled and bumped his fist. "Yeah."

The finals were the hardest match Jake had ever played. The opposing team was relentless, and every point was a tough battle. The team's morale was ebbing the more they kept making mistakes. They tried their best to find openings, try to be unpredictable, cooperate, but their opponent followed through, adapted and abused the hell out of their weaknesses. Jake's fingers were taped and sore, his legs heavy with exhaustion. But he kept setting, kept finding Heeseung, kept fighting.

For him.

They were tied at the fifth set, 14 - 14. Next point wins. It was Jake's serve again.

He looked at Heeseung, who gave him a thumbs up. Jake served—not as hard as the last one, but with more spin. The rally started. The receive was messy, and their team capitalized. They almost lost the ball, but good thing that Sunoo was flexible and managed to save it. The ball came to Jake, and he tossed it up for Heeseung.

Heeseung approached the ball flawlessly. It happened too fast. He moved like a falcon hunting its prey. Three steps, a powerful jump, and his hand connected with the ball. It rocketed past the blockers, hit the floor on the other side.

Point.

The gymnasium exploded with noise. Their team rushed the court, screaming, crying, laughing. They'd won. They'd actually fucking won.

Jake huddled in, but he felt hands on his face, and suddenly, Heeseung was there. He pressed their foreheads together, both of them breathing hard from the rush. "We did it," Heeseung was chanting. "We fucking did it, we did—"

And then, in front of everyone, in the middle of the celebrating crowd, Heeseung kissed him.

It was brief, just a press of lips against lips, born from adrenaline and victory rush and something deeper Jake didn't have time to process. But the world around them slowed down, and Jake wanted to save himself from the heartache of letting this moment go. When Heeseung pulled back, his eyes were wide, like he'd just realized what he'd done. But around them, the celebration continued. No one was looking at them—everyone was caught up in their own moments of victory.

Except.

Jake caught Jungwon's eye across the court. Their captain had seen. His expression as expected, surprised, then understanding, then something that looked almost like a smile before he turned away, giving them privacy in the middle of the crowd.

But there was no time to think about it. The team was pulling them into group hugs, Coach was shouting about the medal ceremony, and they were being directed to line up. Jake moved through it all in a daze, hyperaware of Heeseung beside him, of Jungwon's knowing glance, of the secret that maybe wasn't so secret anymore. It had only been a few minutes, but he could feel his lips yearning to taste that sweetness again. He'd never tasted something so… addicting before.

Had that really just happened? Had Heeseung just kissed him in front of everyone? Lee Heeseung?

The medal ceremony passed too slowly for Jake's liking. No one seemed to have noticed their kiss, and Jake could feel his insides self-imploding with impatience. The team had to do photos, handshakes, act pleasant even when the other teams were glaring at them with envy, and carry the weight of the gold medal around their neck. Jake smiled when he was supposed to, said the right things when asked, but his mind was occupied elsewhere. And Heeseung didn't seem to bother talking about it, letting the flow of victory consume him instead—not even one glance after that moment.

Did Jake hallucinate the whole thing?

Finally, after what felt like hours, they were loading back onto the bus. The team was exhausted but euphoric, passing around their glory and the trophy, taking selfies. Jake sat in his usual seat by the window, the medal still heavy against his chest. He couldn't really bother himself taking it off when his mind was busy overthinking about someone else.

Speaking of, Heeseung slid in next to him, but didn't say anything. He just sat there, staring at his hands, acting like nothing sentimental had just happened between them. It was only the silence in the air that spoke of their shared memory.

The bus started moving, and slowly, the chatter around them died down as people fell asleep. When Jake glanced over, Heeseung was already looking at him.

"Sorry," Heeseung whispered. "About… you know. I got caught up in the moment."

Jake's chest tightened. There it was. Of course. That's all it was—adrenaline. "It's fine."

"It isn't." Heeseung's voice was barely audible over the rumble of the bus, but the annoyance was clear in his tone. "It wasn't fucking okay."

"Forget about it, Heeseung."

"How can I?" Heeseung's voice raised slightly, his brows crunched together. His frustration bled through the exhaustion. Jake's throat clogged with more confusion. "I can't just forget about it when—" He stopped himself, exhaled through his nose. His hands were balled into fists on his lap.

Jake didn't know what to say. He never really figured out Heeseung. He didn't know how to navigate whatever they were. And now Heeseung's suddenly irritated, and despite that, Jake's lips still burned from the kiss. He could feel his chest collapse any second. He remained silent, letting Heeseung spiral on his own.

"You don't get it," Heeseung continued, voice strained. "You never fucking get it."

"Get what?"

Heeseung glanced around, checking if anyone was listening. Most of the team was already knocked out, heads against windows and seats, the celebration having drained whatever energy they had left. When he turned back to Jake, his expression had shifted—the annoyance melting into something more uncanny, unlike him. Almost pathetic.

"I'm sorry." Heeseung's eyes lowered.

Jake tried to speak, save the other from whatever was bothering him, but the confusion ate him up too. He just waited.

"I didn't just kiss you because we won." The words rushed out of Heeseung, like he'd been holding them in for too long, and they were crawling his insides to get out. "I kissed you because—because I wanted to. I've wanted to for a while now, and I didn't know how to say it, and then we won, and you were right there and I just—" He paused, took a shaky breath. "I just wanted to do it."

Jake couldn't breathe. Couldn't even blink. "Heeseung—"

"I know. I know it's weird. Trust me, I've been trying to figure out what the hell is going on with me for months now. The thing with Yeongae, that was me trying to convince myself I just misunderstood this. But I knew I wasn't when I kept thinking about you." Heeseung's hands were shaking as he covered his face in shame. "I like you, Jake. Like, like you like you. And I don't know how to deal with that."

The bus hit a bump, jostling them, but neither moved. They kept eye contact, and Jake saw the fear and hope warring in Heeseung's expression. He felt something crack open in his chest. The same thing he'd been plastering with bandaid over and over ever since.

"Almost a year," Jake whispered. His words sounded strange to his own ears, almost regretful. "I've—I've felt strange about you for almost a year."

Heeseung's eyes widened. "What?"

"Since the intramural last year. Since you first called me Jakey. That's when I realized." It was Jake's turn to let out a shaky breath. "It's the reason why I've been weird. It's why I kept avoiding you. Because I thought—I thought you were straight." His eyes were starting to burn. "I thought I was just your best friend, and these feelings were going to ruin everything we've built."

"Jake." Heeseung reached out, took Jake's hand. His palm was warm, slightly sweaty. And this wasn't the first time they held hands, but this one felt strange. Too vulnerable. "I'm sorry. I'm so fucking sorry. I didn't—I didn't know. I mean, I didn't even know myself until recently. Then I kept thinking about you, and wanting to be around you, and I got jealous when you pulled away, and I couldn't figure out why. And then I realized—I realized something was wrong with me and that scared the shit out of me."

"That's why you dated her."

"Yeah. Yeah, I realized 'cause of that." Heeseung guided Jake's hand and let it caress his cheek, leaning into the touch. Jake's breath hitched at the sight. Was this really happening? "I was being stupid, I know. But I thought if I could just… be normal, you know? But I couldn't stop thinking about you, even when I was with her. I kept wishing that I were walking home with you instead. I just—" He kissed Jake's palm. "I just wanted to be with you."

Jake stared at the sight in front of him. Heeseung was leaning on his touch as if he were his only lifeline. This was real. So fucking real. This was actually happening. "I—I don't know what to do with this either."

Heeseung squeezed his hand. "We'll figure it out together. Like we always do."

"What about everyone else? The team? Your family?"

"I don't know. I haven't thought that far ahead." Heeseung shifted closer, until their shoulders were pressed together. "Right now, I don't care. All I care about right now is that you feel the same way. That I didn't just completely screw up our friendship."

Jake wanted to laugh, but he offered a small smile instead. Maybe Heeseung really shared the same pain, huh? "You didn't."

"Good." Heeseung mirrored his smile. His gaze fell on Jake's lips, hesitating. "Can I—can we try that again? The kiss? Properly this time?"

Jake's heart was racing. He glanced around the bus—everyone was asleep or close to it, faces turned away. He looked back at Heeseung, at the way he was looking at him with intensity. And he thought that those cheesy dramas were exaggerating it, but Heeseung's eyes sparkled, and in those pupils, Jake could see his own reflection, embraced with something he could almost call romance.

Heeseung looked at Jake like he was the moon shining brightly across the horizon.

"Yeah," Jake uttered, hiding the desperation. "Okay."

Heeseung leaned in slowly, giving Jake time to pull away. But Jake didn't. He met Heeseung halfway, and when their lips touched this time, it was different. Slower. More intentional. Jake felt the kiss crawl through his body all the way down to his toes.

When they pulled apart, Heeseung was crying.

Tears streamed down his face, his breath hitching as he tried to keep quiet. Jake's chest clenched at the sight—Heeseung, the guy who was always so bright and confident, was breaking apart in front of him.

"Hey," Jake whispered, reaching up to wipe a tear with his thumb. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing." Heeseung's voice cracked, and he stifled his wet laughs. "Everything's just—fuck, everything's perfect. I'm just—" He shook his head, more tears crawling down his face. "I'm just really happy. And scared. I don't know what to do now."

Jake understood. God, he understood. He pulled Heeseung closer, let him hide his face in Jake's shoulder while his body shook with silent sobs.

"Me too," Jake admitted, his own eyes stinging. He continued rubbing Heeseung's back. "I'm also scared." So fucking scared.

Heeseung pulled back slightly, eyes red and puffy, but he was smiling now through the tears. He intertwined their fingers, brought their joined hands down to rest between them where no one could see. "So what now?"

"I don't know."

"Me neither." Heeseung leaned his head back against Jake's shoulder, squeezing his hand. "But we'll figure it out, right?"

Jake glanced at their joined hands, at Heeseung's tear-stained face, at the way that this was actually happening, and he thought about everything—about almost a year of wanting this, about all the fear and confusion, about the uncertainty ahead. The struggles they'd face. But right now, in this moment, with Heeseung's hand in his and the gold medal around his neck, he was satisfied.

"Right," he whispered, feeling the exhaustion finally lull him to sleep. "We'll figure it out."

They sat like that for the rest of the bus ride, hands clasped, Heeseung asleep against his side. Through the window, Jake watched in a blur the familiar landscape pass by—the suburbs giving way to their small coastal town, the ocean appearing in the distance like a warm welcome home.

And for the first time in almost a year, Jake could finally breathe again.

The next few weeks were strange and exhilarating all at once.

They were being careful about everything. They didn't tell the team—not yet. Heeseung needed time to process everything, to figure out what this meant for him and everything he'd worked hard for. Jake understood. He'd had almost a year to sit with these feelings, while Heeseung had only just realized his.

But things changed between them in small ways. The casual touches become more intentional. The late-night texts became longer, more honest, and definitely sweeter. When they walked home together, sometimes their hands would brush and linger, fingers almost intertwining before they'd remember where they were and pull apart.

They kissed twice more—once in the empty gym after a late practice, quick and breathless inside the storage room. Once at Jake's place, when his family was downstairs watching a reality show, letting the TV cover their nervous laughter as they lay on his bed.

It wasn't perfect. Heeseung still struggled sometimes, got scared when they were too close in public. He still mentioned girls occasionally, catching himself halfway through like he'd forgotten he didn't need to pretend anymore. And Jake still pulled back sometimes, old defense mechanisms kicking in, afraid this was all too good to be true.

And perhaps it was—because Jake would never want to wake up from this fever dream ever again.

But they were trying. They were figuring it out together, as Heeseung had promised.

Then came graduation.

The ceremony was held outdoors in the school courtyard, rows of plastic chairs filled with families and underclassmen. Jake sat with the volleyball team, all of them in matching gowns that felt too formal. The day was a song of finality, a transition into something new, but Jake wasn't certain yet. He kept glancing over at Heeseung, who was three rows ahead. Every time their eyes met, Heeseung would immediately beam, flashing that smaller, private smile that was reserved just for Jake now.

When they called Heeseung's name, the volleyball team erupted in cheers and hollering. Jake watched him walk across the stage, accept his diploma, and couldn't help but feel a complicated mix of pride and dread. He was proud. Incredibly proud of Heeseung. But him accepting that diploma in that gown meant the future they were only imagining back then was here, whether they were ready or not.

After the ceremony, families swarmed the courtyard. Jake's grandmother was crying, taking too many photos for memories' sake. His dad clapped him on the shoulder, told him he was proud. Through the crowd, Jake saw Heeseung with his family, celebrating.

Their eyes met across the courtyard, and Heeseung mouthed, "Later?"

Jake nodded.

That evening, the team gathered at the beach. As the sun started to set, they sat around talking about the future, about where everyone was going. The atmosphere was bittersweet. Everyone was celebrating, but also mourning the end of something. Jay said something along the lines of "This is just the end of a new beginning," while the team was saying their speeches, and Jake clung onto that hope that maybe, maybe this was really just the start of something bigger. For him and Heeseung.

"Can't believe we're done," Sunoo said, staring out at the water.

"We'll still see each other," Jungwon assured him, though even he sounded uncertain.

Later, when people started to leave, Heeseung pulled Jake aside. "Walk with me?"

They left the group, headed down the beach where it was quieter. Jake's heart overflowed with mixed emotions as it might burst. So much had happened in a short time—they'd graduated, won the tournament, and somehow, impossibly, Heeseung was his. But underneath that joy lingered a poignant reminder. Jake was like standing at the peak of something beautiful, knowing the only way forward was down.

"We graduated," Heeseung blurted hesitantly, like he was testing the words. He also seemed afraid of what was ahead of them.

"We did."

"Everything's changing now." Heeseung stopped to face him, and in the moonlight, Jake could see the dilemma written across his features.

Jake cupped his cheek, felt the warmth of the boy who'd become his sun, his everything. "Some things don't have to change."

"But they will, won't they?" Heeseung's voice cracked slightly. He placed a hand over Jake's, leaning onto the touch like he couldn't get enough of it. "That's what graduation means. Things end and change, whether we want them to or not."

Jake wanted to argue, wanted to promise to Heeseung and swear to the stars that nothing between them would be different. That what he felt for Heeseung would stay constant, but they both knew better. The future was already pulling at them, demanding choices. So instead, he stepped closer and whispered, "Not us, right?"

Heeseung's lips curved, "Not us."

They kissed there on the beach, hidden in the darkness, and it tasted like freedom and goodbye all at once. Jake poured everything into it. The months of pining, the fear of what came next, all the love he'd been growing for Heeseung. The latter's hands trembled when he cupped Jake's face, and Jake realized he was crying.

Who knew the lively, happy-go-lucky guy was the more emotional one between the two of them? Heeseung was so strangely interesting.

A week after graduation, Heeseung asked Jake to come over after an informal session—some of the team still met up to play, explaining they had nothing better to do at home. But everyone knew that they were still not ready to let go of their routine yet.

Heeseung's parents were out, he said. They could talk. Really talk, without worrying about being interrupted or overheard.

Jake's stomach was in knots the whole walk to Heeseung's house. They'd been alone together plenty of times, but this felt different. Monumental. More significant. Too intimate. Just everything romantic.

Heeseung's room was familiar—Jake had been here countless times before. The volleyball posters on the walls, the messy desk that never got organized, the bed with its rumpled sheets. No one would believe that a guy like Lee Heeseung would be so disorganized. But being here now, with everything changed between them, made it feel new.

They sat on Heeseung's bed, and for a moment, neither spoke. Then Heeseung started, "I broke up with Yeongae. Officially."

Jake had assumed they'd stopped seeing each other, but hearing it confirmed was different. Like a burden was carried. "How did she take it?"

"She was nice about it. I feel bad, actually. She said she kind of figured something was off." Heeseung laughed humorlessly. "Apparently, I wasn't very subtle about being not into her. She asked if there was someone else, and well I—I told her yes. Didn't say who, but yeah."

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah. It felt good, actually. Being honest." Heeseung turned to look at Jake. "I'm tired of pretending and hurting everyone that I love. Being something I'm not, you know?"

"Have you figured it out then?"

Heeseung pondered for a moment, falling onto his bed. Jake's gaze followed him. "I don't know. I'm still trying new things. But I know that I like you. A lot. And I'm sure about that."

Jake felt his face heat up. He swayed his gaze away and tried to hide the embarrassment. This was still so strange, hearing Heeseung say things like that unironically. "I like you too."

"Good. But I have to tell you something, and I don't know how you're going to react." Heeseung sat up again, expression turning serious. He took both Jake's hands and held them tightly. "Coach pulled me aside a few weeks ago, before the tournament. There's a scout from one of the official teams in Seoul. They've been watching me play, and they want me to try out."

Jake's stomach dropped. "What?"

Heeseung gripped tighter, almost afraid Jake would run away. "It's a big opportunity. Like, huge. And my parents have been bugging me about it. They want me to attend a university there." He paused, letting Jake process the information. "If I make it, I'd have to move there for training and school. They said I should pursue it as a professional career."

Jake remained silent, and Heeseung seemed to understand his unspoken response. He continued explaining, "I applied months ago, before—before us. I didn't think I'd actually get in. And then when I did, we were fighting, and I didn't know how to tell you. Then we won the tournament and everything changed, and I've been putting off saying anything because I don't want to—" He stopped, pressing his lips against Jake's hands, as if trying to enchant him. "I don't want to lose you right when I finally have you."

Jake felt the ground open up below him. "When is it?"

"The tryout is next week. If I make it, training starts the week after." Heeseung looked at him with a sunken expression, waiting—waiting for Jake to say anything. "I know the timing is terrible. We just got together and now I'm leaving, and I don't—I don't know what this means for us."

"You have to go," Jake deadpanned, pulling his hands away, but Heeseung's grip tightened.

"But—"

"I mean it. This is your dream. You can't pass this up because of—because of me."

"But what about you? Us?" Heeseung leaned closer. "We just started this. I don't want it to end before it even really begins."

Jake saw a glimpse of their intertwined hands, at Heeseung's face so full of conflict and fear. A year ago, if someone had told Jake that Heeseung would like him back, that they'd kiss, that they'd act lovey-dovey with each other, he wouldn't have believed it. And now he had it, the universe was taking it away almost immediately.

Because maybe they really weren't supposed to be doing this. And Jake couldn't be the reason Heeseung gave up on his dreams.

"It doesn't have to end," Jake said, even though his throat burned. "We'll make it work. Long distance whatever. You'll be in Seoul, and I'll be here, and we'll—we'll make it work."

"You really think we can?"

Honestly? Jake didn't know. Long distance was hard enough for regular couples, let alone whatever they were—two teenage boys who'd only just admitted their feelings, who hadn't even told anyone else about them yet. And who knows? Maybe this was just a phase they'd forget eventually. But looking at Heeseung's face, at the hope and fear present there? Jake couldn't say any of that.

Jake forced a smile. "We will."

Heeseung pulled Jake into a hug, tight and desperate. Jake held on, breathing in the familiar scent of Heeseung's shampoo, feeling the steady beat of his heart. They stayed like that for a long time, not speaking, just holding each other. And Jake already tried to memorize this moment. Every minute detail he'd never forget.

When they finally pulled apart, Heeseung's eyes were red. "I'm scared."

"Me too."

"But you'll wait for me? Even if it takes a while?"

Jake nodded, catching a stray tear that fell from Heeseung's eye. "I will."

Heeseung kissed him then, soft and gentle, like Jake was something fragile. And maybe he was. Maybe they both were—just two teenagers trying to figure out something complicated and new while the world kept moving around them, throwing new obstacles at them.

They spent the rest of the evening just talking, lying on Heeseung's bed, hands clasped between them. They talked about everything deep. The tryout, the what ifs, about how they'd have to eventually tell the team and their families about their situation. They talked about their plans in the future. Vague, hopeful, and they sounded like people dancing around the uncertainty of the unknown.

When Jake finally left, it was late. Heeseung walked him to the door, and they stood there in the doorway, neither wanting to say goodbye.

"One week," Heeseung said. "I'll still be here for one more week."

"Then let's make it count."

They did. That last week felt fleeting. They spent every moment they could together, almost latched onto each other every free second they had—usually under the guise of practice or studying. The team didn't know that Heeseung was leaving yet. He'd tell them after the tryout, he promised. He said that he didn't want to make a big deal of it. But Jake was definitely suffering from trying not to make it a big deal for himself.

He knew Heeseung would make it. He was too good not to—and that scared him.

They found moments alone when they could during that one week. They went on dates—if Jake could call the things they already used to do together as one. The only difference was the quick kisses in empty streets. On lonely nights, they held long conversations on the phone after everyone else was asleep. Jake memorized everything about Heeseung. He memorized the way he laughed, or the way his eyes crinkled when he smiled. And sometimes, the way he whispered Jake's name on intimate nights with reverence like he was some god.

The night before Heeseung left for Seoul, they went to the bridge—the one where Heeseung had told Jake to hold the moon. It felt like a lifetime ago, even though it had really only been weeks.

The sky was clear tonight, stars blinking back at them. Jake was sure he had found the same star he wished on a year ago, shining brightly at him like it had finally found its place in the universe.

"I'm going to miss this," Heeseung admitted. "This view. This town. You."

"Seoul's not that far. You can come back on weekends sometimes."

"I know. But it won't be the same." Heeseung turned to Jake, grabbing his hand. "Promise me something?"

"What?"

"Promise me that you won't forget about me. About this." He gestured toward their intertwined hands. "Please?"

Jake huffed, stopping himself from flicking Heeseung's face. "How could I forget?"

"I don't know. But promise me anyway."

Jake sighed, plastering a genuine smile which brightened Heeseung's wary expression. "I promise. I won't forget about you."

Heeseung pulled Jake closer until they were touching. "I also promise that I won't forget either. And I'm going to come back. Maybe not right away, but I definitely will. And when I do—"

Jake cut Heeseung off by kissing him, letting their doubts fade away. It seemed to have helped. He felt Heeseung smiling while they kissed, pulling him closer if it was even possible, not letting the moment become a bygone memory. They tried to pour all the things unsaid. And when they finally pulled apart, both breathing hard, Heeseung rested his forehead against Jake's.

"I think I might be falling in love with you," Heeseung whispered, chuckling. "Is that weird? We've only been like this for a few weeks."

Jake's heart wanted to jump out of his chest. He withheld the huge grin that tried to break free. "I've been feeling that for almost a year. So no. I don't think it's weird."

Heeseung pulled back to look at Jake's face, his expression filled with strings of wonder and joy, and sadness all tangled together. "Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"Sim Jaeyun, I think—no, I believe that I'm falling in love with you."

Jake just held on to Heeseung tight, feeling his shirt dampen. They stood there, wrapped in each other, and Jake tried to freeze the moment. Capture the feeling of it so he could pull it out later when the distance felt too much, and the waiting felt too long.

Eventually, they had to leave. They stood facing each other at Jake's gate, neither wanting to say goodbye.

"See you soon?"

"See you soon," Jake echoed.

They kissed one more time, long and desperate, before Heeseung finally pulled away and walked down the street. Jake watched until he disappeared around the corner, then stood there for several minutes more, staring at the stars above.

The sky was that deep, dark blue of late night, and somewhere beyond the horizon, morning was waiting. New days, new chances, new beginnings. Heeseung was leaving, but he was coming back. He'd promised.

And Jake would wait. As long as it took, he would wait.

Because some things were worth waiting for. Some people were worth the distance, the uncertainty, every single moment of longing.

Jake searched for the same star again and wished.

Please let the moon and the stars continue shining brightly in Seoul.

Heeseung was worth it. Because the moon and the stars were witnesses to their love.

And there were blue skies underneath the horizon. The sun was there, even when no one could see it.

And Heeseung would come back.

He always came back.