"Enough," Haneul says, his voice sharp, startling even himself with the force behind it. He crosses his arms, meeting Hanbin's gaze with a steady, unyielding look. "Hanbin-ssi, I don't know what you think this is, but I don't have time for... for whatever game you're playing. I'm busy with school, with tutoring, with my own responsibilities. Romance, dating, whatever you're after—it's not something I have the time or interest for right now."
Hanbin blinks, momentarily taken aback by Haneul's sudden outburst, but he recovers quickly, a faint smile creeping back onto his face. "Romance?" he echoes, amusement glinting in his eyes. He chuckles, shaking his head. "That's a strong word, don't you think? I don't remember saying anything about romance."
The way he laughs, that easy, carefree demeanor, only serves to rile Haneul up further. He can feel his pulse quicken, his frustration boiling over as he fights to keep his composure.
"You think this is funny, don't you?" Haneul finally snaps, his eyes flashing with irritation. "You walk around, taking everything lightly because it's all just a game to you. You're... you're privileged, Hanbin. You have everything handed to you, and it shows. You don't have to work twice as hard, or worry about fitting in, or prove yourself. You don't understand what it's like for someone like me. Of course, I'm your newest plaything, something to pass time whenever you're bored and I've entertained you long enough."
Hanbin's smile fades slightly, and for the first time, there's a flicker of something in his eyes that Haneul can't quite read—something that looks like a hint of surprise, or perhaps guilt. But Haneul doesn't stop, the words pouring out in a rush, each one fueled by the frustration he's been bottling up for days.
"I'm a foreigner here," Haneul continues, his voice steady, though a tremor of emotion lingers at the edges. "I don't have the luxury of coasting through or wasting time on meaningless pursuits. Every hour, every day is dedicated to studying, to working, to making a place for myself here. I can't afford to get distracted by someone who... who thinks that persistence is just a game. You need to get that through your head."
He takes a deep breath, willing himself to calm down. "And no matter how many times you try, I am never going to give you my number. I am never going to... to indulge you in whatever it is you're after. So, please—just give up and leave me alone."
The finality in his words hangs in the air, and Haneul watches as Hanbin's expression shifts, his eyes darkening as he absorbs each carefully chosen word. For a moment, neither of them speaks, the silence between them heavy and tense, thick with the weight of Haneul's frustration and Hanbin's uncharacteristic quiet.
Then, slowly, Hanbin's lips quirk into a faint smile—not his usual, teasing smile, this one doesn't reach his eyes. His aegyo-sal does not pop up and his cheeks do not bunch up to reveal his pretty dimples. He nods, his gaze steady as he meets Haneul's eyes.
"Alright," he says quietly, his tone surprisingly calm. "I hear you."
Haneul blinks, momentarily thrown off by the unexpected response. He'd anticipated another witty retort, a playful jab, anything that would turn this into yet another back-and-forth. But Hanbin's quiet acknowledgment leaves him unsteady, uncertain.
"Good," Haneul mutters, his voice quieter now, the intensity of his emotions settling into a strange, hollow ache. He looks away, feeling the tension drain from his body as he prepares to leave.
Without another word, he turns on his heel and walks away, his heart pounding as he puts distance between himself and Hanbin. Each step feels like a release, as if he's finally shed the weight of Hanbin's presence, the relentless pursuit that has lingered like a shadow over his carefully constructed routine.
But as he walks, a strange feeling settles in his chest, something he can't quite place. He tells himself that it's a relief—that he's finally put an end to whatever strange fascination Hanbin has developed. But a small part of him, a quiet, reluctant part, can't help but wonder if he'll miss the thrill of that infuriating, persistent attention.
He shakes his head, dismissing the thought as he quickens his pace, determined to leave it all behind.
The next day dawns bright and chilly, and Haneul finds himself gravitating toward a small café near campus, one he visits often when he needs a break from the relentless pace of his studies. The café is tucked into a quiet corner of the neighborhood, its large windows casting warm light onto the cozy interior, filled with the rich scent of freshly brewed coffee. It's the perfect spot to decompress—a place where he can sip some sweet tea in peace, lose himself in his thoughts, and put the distractions of the previous day behind him.
Haneul is going there today to get some of his assignments done while listening to music. He doesn't really like studying at the library, it's full of desperate undergraduates all trying to get some work done. He'd rather study back at home or at a café on days when he has in-person classes.
As he steps inside, he orders his usual bubble tea and scans the room for an empty table. Most of the patrons are students like him, hunched over laptops or chatting in low voices over their drinks. It's exactly the kind of calm atmosphere Haneul craves—until his gaze lands on a familiar figure near the back of the café, sitting with a loud, animated group.
Hanbin.
Haneul stiffens, his eyes widening slightly as he processes the unexpected sight. Hanbin is sitting at a corner table, surrounded by a few friends, one of whom—a blonde, short guy—is seated particularly close, practically leaning into Hanbin's side. They're both laughing, heads close together, and Hanbin's arm is draped casually around the back of the blonde guy's chair.
Haneul feels an uncomfortable twinge in his chest, a strange mix of irritation and something he can't quite name. He moved on quickly, he thinks, a sharp edge to the thought. He wonders if the blonde guy is Hanbin's newest conquest, the latest in a string of fleeting flings, or if he was part of Hanbin's life all along. Either way, the sight leaves a sour taste in Haneul's mouth, a sense of unsettled discomfort that he can't quite shake.
He tries to look away, to focus on finding his own seat and ignoring the scene unfolding across the room, but as he glances back one last time, Hanbin's gaze meets his. For a split second, their eyes lock, and Haneul's heart stumbles in his chest, caught off guard by the intensity of Hanbin's stare. Hanbin's expression is unreadable, his dark eyes searching Haneul's face with an intensity that makes him feel as if he's been laid bare.
Then, without breaking eye contact, Hanbin leans down, saying something to the blonde guy in a low voice. The blonde guy nods, his laughter fading, and before Haneul can process what's happening, Hanbin stands, reaching out to take the blonde's hand and tugging him toward the door. Together, they weave through the tables, Hanbin's gaze flicking back to Haneul one last time before they disappear out the exit.
Haneul watches them go, a knot of confusion and unease twisting in his chest. Part of him feels relieved, grateful that Hanbin didn't approach him, didn't try to engage in yet another round of teasing or persistence. But another part of him, a part he doesn't want to acknowledge, feels strangely hollow, as if he's lost something he didn't even know he wanted.
He drops his gaze to his drink, his fingers tightening around the cup. Did I go too far yesterday? The question lingers, uninvited, in the back of his mind, gnawing at his sense of certainty. He had told himself, over and over, that he'd been right to draw that line with Hanbin, to set boundaries and make his lack of interest clear. But seeing Hanbin walk away from him, without acknowledging him makes him feel like he was too much. Maybe Hanbin was just trying to joke around and he took it too seriously.
Haneul takes another sip of his tea, the sweet taste grounding him for a moment. What am I even feeling? It's ridiculous, he tells himself, to feel anything at all. He should be glad—relieved, even—that Hanbin seems to have finally taken the hint and moved on. But a quiet voice in the back of his mind whispers that maybe, just maybe, he'd been too harsh. Maybe Hanbin wasn't as unserious as he'd assumed. After all, Hanbin had listened to him, had even acknowledged his words with an unusual softness in his eyes. He hadn't fought back or made a scene; he'd simply said, "I hear you."
Haneul sighs, rubbing his temples as he tries to shake off the thought. It doesn't matter, he tells himself firmly. Hanbin is exactly who Haneul assumed he was—charming, carefree, and uninterested in anything serious. The sight of him leaving with yet another new person should be all the confirmation he needs.
But that uninvited feeling of regret lingers, a quiet ache that Haneul can't quite dispel.
With a final sigh, he pulls out his notebook, determined to distract himself with his studies. He tells himself that he did the right thing, that he's better off without Hanbin's persistent, disruptive attention.
Then the door to the cafe opens and Haneul glances towards the door to find a familiar dark eyes looking in his direction and then Hanbin is walking towards him.
"I'm so sorry to interrupt you and I know you don't want to talk to me but can you give me 5 minutes?"