The cold January air was sharp as Jian sat on the edge of his bed, the small wooden flower keychain resting in his palm. He turned it over, studying the intricate design Hana had picked for him. It wasn't just a gift—it was a reminder that she thought of him, even in the little moments.
But doubt gnawed at the edges of his happiness. Tae-hyun's words from the other night kept replaying in his mind: You like her, don't you?
Jian sighed, tossing the keychain onto his desk. He felt trapped between the simplicity of their friendship and the complexity of his feelings. He knew he was overthinking it, but every smile Hana gave Tae-hyun stirred something deep and uncomfortable inside him.
---
The next morning, Jian forced himself out of bed and headed to campus earlier than usual. The courtyard was quiet, save for a few scattered students rushing to morning classes. Jian found his usual spot under the large oak tree and pulled out his sketchbook.
Drawing always helped calm his mind, but today, his hand felt heavy. His lines wavered, the shapes refusing to come together. He flipped to a new page and started again, this time sketching Hana from memory—the curve of her smile, the way her hair fell over her shoulder.
"Wow, that's really good."
Jian's head shot up. Hana was standing there, bundled in a scarf and coat, her cheeks pink from the cold.
"How long have you been there?" Jian asked, quickly closing his sketchbook.
"Long enough to see that you're hiding something," she teased, sitting down beside him.
"It's nothing," Jian said, his voice a little too quick.
Hana raised an eyebrow but let it slide. "You're always out here drawing. Don't you ever get cold?"
Jian shrugged. "I like the quiet. It helps me think."
Hana smiled. "I get that. The dance studio can be so noisy sometimes. It's nice to find a place where you can just... breathe."
Jian nodded, grateful that she understood. For a moment, they sat in silence, watching the bare branches sway in the wind.
---
"Hey, do you want to grab coffee later?" Hana asked suddenly.
Jian hesitated, the image of Tae-hyun flashing in his mind. "Aren't you busy with practice?"
"Not today. It's a rare day off," she said, nudging him playfully. "Come on, it's on me."
Unable to resist her enthusiasm, Jian agreed.
---
Later that afternoon, they found themselves in a small café near campus. It was cozy, with soft lighting and the hum of quiet conversations. Hana ordered something warm and sweet, while Jian stuck to his usual black coffee.
"So," Hana said, blowing on her drink, "are you working on anything special right now? I saw you drawing earlier, but you wouldn't show me."
Jian shifted in his seat. "Just... sketches. Nothing important."
"You're always so modest about your work," Hana said. "I bet it's amazing."
Jian looked at her, wanting to tell her that most of his recent drawings were of her—that she was his inspiration, his muse. But the words stuck in his throat.
"It's just practice," he said instead.
Hana studied him for a moment, then leaned back in her chair. "You know, I think you're a lot braver than you give yourself credit for."
Jian blinked. "Brave? Me?"
"Yeah," she said. "You put your emotions into your art. That takes guts. I mean, I dance, but sometimes I feel like I'm just going through the motions. You actually create something real."
Her words warmed him, but they also made him feel unworthy. If only she knew how much he held back, how often he avoided the truth.
---
As they left the café, the sun was beginning to set, painting the sky in shades of orange and pink. Hana walked beside him, her hands tucked into her pockets.
"Thanks for coming out with me," she said. "It was nice to just... relax for a bit."
"Yeah, it was," Jian replied, his voice soft.
They reached a crossroads where their paths diverged—Hana's dorm to the right, Jian's apartment to the left. She hesitated, then turned to him with a smile.
"See you tomorrow?"
Jian nodded, watching as she walked away. The keychain she'd given him swung gently from her bag, catching the last rays of sunlight.
---
That night, Jian couldn't sleep. He lay on his bed, staring at the ceiling, his mind replaying their conversation. Her words about bravery echoed in his head, making him feel both proud and guilty.
He reached for his sketchbook and flipped to the page he had been working on earlier. The drawing of Hana stared back at him, unfinished. He picked up his pencil and began adding details—the curve of her lips, the way her eyes sparkled when she smiled.
As he worked, he thought about Tae-hyun. Was he being paranoid? Or was there something more between him and Hana? The uncertainty gnawed at him, but he pushed the thoughts aside.
For now, he would focus on what he could control: his art.
---
The following day, Jian arrived early to class, hoping to distract himself with lectures and assignments. But as he settled into his seat, he overheard a group of students talking near the back of the room.
"Did you see Hana and Tae-hyun the other day?" one of them said.
"Yeah, they looked really close. Are they dating or something?"
Jian's heart sank. He tried to tune out the conversation, but the words clung to him, refusing to let go.
---
After class, Jian wandered aimlessly around campus, his thoughts in turmoil. He found himself near the dance studio again, the sound of music drawing him closer. Peeking through the window, he saw Hana practicing alone, her movements fluid and beautiful.
For a moment, all his doubts melted away. She looked so free, so happy, and he felt a surge of admiration for her.
But then the door opened, and Tae-hyun walked in, carrying a small box. He said something to Hana, and she laughed, the sound light and carefree.
Jian turned away, his chest tightening.
---
That evening, as he sat in his apartment, Jian stared at the keychain on his desk. It felt heavier now, as though it carried the weight of his unanswered questions.
He wanted to trust Hana, to believe in their friendship. But the shadows of doubt were growing, and he didn't know how to fight them.
For the first time, Jian wondered if he was losing something precious—not because of Hana, but because of his own fears.