Chapter Text
There were certain people at Hearts High that everyone noticed immediately, not necessarily because they were trying to be noticed, but because the atmosphere around them naturally shifted the second they entered a space, and A-na had unfortunately been one of those people for as long as she could remember.
She blamed soccer for most of it.
Not because she disliked it—she loved it more than almost anything—but because being captain of the girls’ team somehow turned ordinary things into public events, which meant she couldn’t walk through the hallways without at least three underclassmen waving at her, two teachers reminding her about assignments she had definitely forgotten, and Ian loudly announcing something embarrassing before first period had even started properly.
“A-na,” Ian said dramatically as she caught up beside her near the gym entrance, “if you keep arriving at school looking this functional at eight in the morning, you’re making the rest of us look lazy.”
A-na adjusted the strap of her bag higher onto her shoulder before laughing softly. “Maybe you are lazy.”
“That’s actually offensive.”
“It’s also true,” Juun added calmly from A-na’s other side without even glancing up from her phone.
Ian gasped. “See? This is what happens when you spend too much time with honor students. Suddenly everyone’s judging me.”
“You deserve judgment,” Juun replied.
A-na laughed again, and despite the fact that she had only slept around four hours after late evening training, the sound still came easily, warm enough that two first-year students walking past immediately smiled at her like they had somehow been included in the conversation.
That happened often too.
People liked A-na because she made them feel noticed, and even though she acted casual about it most of the time, the truth was that she noticed people just as carefully in return, maybe more carefully than anyone realized.
She noticed when Juun got quieter than usual, which almost always meant she was stressed before exams even if she insisted she wasn’t.
She noticed when Ian started talking too loudly, which usually meant she was covering up the fact that something was bothering her.
And unfortunately—
she noticed Yuha constantly.
Even when she absolutely did not want to.
“Don’t look now,” Ian murmured suddenly beside her, which naturally guaranteed that A-na looked immediately, “but royalty just arrived.”
A-na already knew who she meant before her eyes even crossed the hallway.
Yuha.
Of course.
She was standing near the windows with Stella and Jiwoo, still holding an iced coffee despite the fact that it was freezing outside, her dark hair falling perfectly over one shoulder like she existed in a completely different climate than everyone else. Jiwoo was saying something quietly beside her while Stella looked busy fixing her lipstick using the reflection from the glass, but Yuha herself wasn’t speaking much, only listening with that composed expression she always wore at school now, calm and unreadable in a way that made people straighten up slightly whenever she looked at them directly.
Nobody at Hearts High would have called Yuha intimidating out loud.
Mostly because they were too intimidated to say it.
It wasn’t that Yuha was mean.
Actually, that was the strange thing—she rarely raised her voice, never started drama, never openly insulted anyone the way some of the richer students did. Teachers adored her because her grades were nearly perfect, younger students respected her because she carried herself with impossible confidence, and even people who didn’t know her well still lowered their voices around her instinctively, like the atmosphere itself adjusted whenever she entered a room.
Stella once called it “main character disease.”
Jiwoo called it “presence.”
A-na personally thought it was annoying.
Mostly because Yuha never used to be like that around her.
Back then, Yuha used to laugh more loudly, complain more openly, and sometimes fall asleep while studying with her head resting against A-na’s shoulder like it was the most natural thing in the world.
Now she barely looked at her.
Which was honestly ridiculous considering A-na still caught her staring at least twice a week.
“…You’re doing it again,” Juun said quietly.
A-na blinked. “Doing what.”
“Looking emotionally constipated.”
Ian burst into laughter so suddenly she nearly dropped her drink.
“I hate both of you,” A-na muttered.
“Not as much as you hate unresolved tension apparently,” Ian replied immediately.
A-na groaned softly and started walking faster toward the main building before either of them could continue, though unfortunately that did nothing to stop the heat creeping into her face because the truly irritating part was that they weren’t entirely wrong.
Not about the tension, at least.
There was always tension with Yuha now.
Not loud tension.
Not dramatic.
Something worse.
The quiet kind.
The kind built from years of avoidance and unfinished conversations and glances that lasted one second too long before one of them inevitably looked away first.
Usually Yuha.
Although lately, A-na wasn’t entirely sure anymore.
—
By lunchtime, the entire school already felt louder than necessary, the cafeteria packed with overlapping conversations and chairs scraping against the floor while students moved between tables with the kind of chaotic energy that only existed in places where people spent five days a week trapped together.
A-na sat cross-legged on top of one of the benches despite repeated complaints from teachers about it being “unladylike,” balancing a juice box against her knee while Ian loudly retold yesterday’s soccer practice to anyone willing to listen.
“And then,” Ian said dramatically while pointing her chopsticks around like weapons, “Coach looked me directly in the eyes and said, ‘Ian, if you flirt with another defender instead of marking them, I’m benching you.’”
Juun didn’t even look up from her food. “Reasonable.”
“It was strategic.”
“It was embarrassing,” A-na corrected.
Ian placed a hand against her chest. “Wow. Betrayal from my own captain.”
“You kicked the ball into someone because you were winking at them.”
“She was cute.”
“She was on the opposing team.”
Ian shrugged. “Love transcends rivalry.”
A-na laughed despite herself, loud enough this time that a few nearby students glanced over automatically, and as she leaned back slightly against the table behind her, still smiling, her eyes moved across the cafeteria entirely by accident.
And immediately landed on Yuha.
Again.
It would have been easier if Yuha looked unaffected around her.
Honestly.
If she acted cold or irritated or completely indifferent, maybe A-na could have eventually convinced herself to stop caring too.
But Yuha always looked at her like she remembered something she didn’t want to.
And that was somehow worse.
At the table across the cafeteria, Stella was speaking animatedly about something while Jiwoo listened with patient exhaustion, but Yuha herself wasn’t paying attention anymore.
She was already looking back.
Their eyes met.
Just briefly.
Still, something shifted instantly in Yuha’s expression, subtle enough that nobody else would notice it, but A-na did because unfortunately she had spent years memorizing every version of Yuha’s face without meaning to.
Then Yuha looked away first.
Again.
A-na hated how much that still bothered her.
Because the truth was, she didn’t actually know what happened between them.
Not fully.
Not really.
She only knew that one day things started changing slowly enough that she kept convincing herself she was imagining it at first.
Texts became shorter.
Plans got canceled more often.
Yuha stopped reaching for her automatically in crowded places.
Stopped looking at her the same way.
And eventually stopped looking at her at all.
A-na had spent months wondering if she did something wrong.
Then spent even longer pretending she didn’t care anymore.
Neither strategy worked particularly well.
“…Okay,” Ian said suddenly, narrowing her eyes from across the table, “what was that.”
A-na blinked. “What was what.”
“The weird eye contact thing you just did with Yuha.”
“There was no eye contact thing.”
“There was absolutely an eye contact thing,” Ian replied immediately.
Even Juun looked mildly interested now, which honestly felt invasive considering Juun only participated in gossip when something was genuinely obvious.
A-na grabbed her juice box aggressively. “You’re all insane.”
Ian grinned slowly. “You know what I think?”
“I genuinely don’t.”
“I think,” Ian continued smugly, “that if you and Yuha ever got locked in a room together, one of you would either confess feelings or commit a crime.”
Juun nodded once. “Possibly both.”
A-na nearly choked on her drink.
Across the cafeteria, Stella burst into sudden laughter at something Jiwoo said, and for the smallest second, Yuha smiled too.
A real smile.
Not the polite school version.
Soft enough that it changed her entire face.
A-na forgot how to breathe for approximately three seconds.
Then Yuha noticed her staring.
And the smile disappeared immediately.