Sana didn't cry in the end. She refused to.
She didn't need anyone feeding her insecurities – she was doing a fine job of that herself.
The words she overhead earlier still echoed in her mind, sharp and unrelenting. What would a guy like him see in her? It wasn't the first time the thought had crossed her mind. She wasn't the most beautiful woman, was she? Beautiful women were everywhere – what made her stand out?
Her thoughts drifted to Nexus and her meeting with Min-Seok. He was as effortlessly confident as Ji-Hoon, though in a more flamboyant way. Birds of a feather flock together, they say. Was that true? Ji-Hoon had his moments – flashes of privilege that reminded her they came from entirely different worlds. Meeting Min-Seok only made those moments feel more real.
Beside her, In-a nudged her lightly, pulling her from her spiralling thoughts. "Hey, you are sure I'm not intruding on your date, right?"
Sana shook her head, offering a small smile. "Don't worry. Ji-Hoon invited a friend too."
"You mean Senior Minseok right? He's the only person Senior Ji-Hoon hangs out with in campus."
In-a's words were casual, but they stung. Everyone seemed to know more about Ji-Hoon than she did – his habits, his friends, his routines. What else did they know that she didn't?
Her wandering thoughts came to an abrupt end when her eyes found Ji-Hoon and Min-Seok standing ahead. Their presence was magnetic, commanding attention even in the casual setting of a campus. Together, they seemed untouchable – they looked like they belonged in a different world entirely, one that only a select few were allowed into.
For a fleeting moment, Sana wanted to turn back. But then Ji-Hoon's gaze caught hers, and his arms opened as though silently inviting her in. Her hesitation melted away, and she found herself moving toward him without a second thought.
He caught her steadily as she buried her face in his chest.
A lump rose in her throat, the pressure behind her eyes threatening to spill over. But she pushed it all back. How unsightly would it be to cry here, in front of their friends? Instead, she focused on his scent, the steady rise and fall of his breathing, and felt the darkness in her mind recede.
"What's wrong, hm?" Ji-Hoon's voice was low and intimate, meant only for her.
She shook her head, clutching him a little tighter. He didn't press her for an answer, just held her in return. They stood there, wrapped in their own little world, oblivious to everything – and everyone else.
In-a stood awkwardly a few steps away, unsure of what to do. She glanced at Min-Seok, who watched the scene with thinly veiled amusement. "Are they always like this?" she asked, her voice dropping instinctively, as if afraid to disrupt the moment.
Min-Seok's lips curled into a smirk. "Like what?"
"Like the world stops existing when they're together."
He shrugged, clearly entertained. "That's just how they are. Honestly, Ji-Hoon has no idea how obvious he is."
In-a tilted her head, following Min-Seok's gaze back to Ji-Hoon. She didn't miss the way his entire demeanor softened when he looked at Sana. It was…startling.
Meanwhile, Sana pulled back slightly, her cheeks tinged pink. "Hello~~"
Min-Seok scoffed, crossing his arms. "And her I thought I'd turned invisible."
"Why would she pay you any attention while I'm here?" Ji-Hoon interjected, giving his friend a pointed look.
Sana laughed, the sound light and genuine, chasing away the remnants of her earlier doubts.
Min-Seok waved them off dismissively. "Forget it. Let's go – I'm starving." Without waiting for a response, he headed to the cafeteria.
In-a lingered for a moment, watching the easy banter unfold. She'd never seen Sana like this before. Happy? No, that wasn't quite it. Open, maybe? Free? Whatever it was, it was a side of Sana that she had never been privy to.
"In-a come on!" Sana called, waving her over with one hand while her other hand remained securely entwined with Ji-Hoon's.
In-a glanced at Ji-Hoon, and her breath hitched. The warmth he'd shown Sana moments ago was gone, replaced by a cold, impassive stare that sent a chill down her spine. She quickly averted her eyes and forced a smile. "I'm coming."
As they walked, the short distance to the cafeteria felt like miles to In-a. she wasn't used to this kind of attention. Sure, she was a social butterfly, but this was different. On top of that, the air around Ji-Hoon and Min-Seok carried a subtle sense of rejection, whether they intended to or not.
I shouldn't have come, she thought, her smile faltering for a brief moment as she followed the group. I really shouldn't have come.
…
Despite their swirling emotions, the four of them made their way to the cafeteria.
Min-Seok, as usual, paid no mind to the stares and whispers. Let them look. It's their time they're wasting, not mine. He had long mastered the art of dissociation, brushing off irrelevance as easily as dust on his shoulder. For him, strangers' opinions were fleeting echoes, meaningless in the grand scheme of things.
Ji-Hoon's perspective was just as dismissive, though rooted in his own solitude. He preferred the hum of noisy spaces – crowds made him feel less alone – but he kept people at arm's length. One true friend and now her, Sana, were all he needed. Each day, she burrowed deeper into the core of his heart, a place he'd sworn to keep locked. He no longer feared the intrusion; instead, he found himself unable to imagine life without her. The world outside their shared space didn't matter.
Sana, however, was far from being indifferent. The stares, the whispers – they clawed at her resolve. You chose this. You knew what it would mean. She gripped Ji-Hoon's hand tightly, seeking reassurance in his steady presence. His firm squeeze in return grounded her, but the tension coiled in her chest refused to dissipate.
In-a, by contrast, felt wholly out of place. The weight of attention bore down on her, leaving her fidgeting with her bag strap as they walked. She remembered the look on Sana's face when the article first broke – the unease, the uncertainty. At the time, she'd thought Sana was overreacting, failing to appreciate the silver lining of unexpected fame. But now, caught in the thick of it, In-a understood. The whispers were suffocating, the stares unrelenting. She could barely focus on putting one foot in front of the other.
When they finally sat down, Sana hesitated before breaking the silence. "Ji-Hoon, Min-Seok, this is In-a…a friend."
Ji-Hoon gave a polite nod, and Min-Seok offered a casual wave. In-a returned a tight, awkward smile.
Sana felt the weight of her words hanging in the air. A friend. Was that what In-a was? She was clearly more than an acquaintance, but could she truly be called a friend? Compared to the effortless connection between Ji-Hoon and Min-Seok, her dynamic with In-a felt fragile, uncertain.
I'll talk to her later, Sana resolved. She couldn't quite place the unease gnawing at her, but she knew one thing for sure: she didn't want to lose whatever bond they had.
Thankfully, Min-Seok's natural charisma lightened the atmosphere. He filled the space with light-hearted stories and jokes, his easy going demeanor diffusing much of the tension. It was a skill Sana couldn't help but admire.
Ji-Hoon, as always, remained quiet but attentive. His focus rarely wavered from Sana, quietly placing food on her plate while responding to Min-Seok's comments with short but meaningful replies. Sana, caught between his gentle gestures and In-a growing discomfort, found herself more distracted than ever.
In-a barely touched her food, her gaze flickering nervously around the room. The weight of the stares seemed to press harder on her than anyone else at the table.
This isn't how it was supposed to go. The thought sat heavy in Sana's mind as she watched In-a toy with her chopsticks, pushing rice around her plate.
Halfway through the meal, In-a's resolve broke. Placing her chopsticks down, she muttered, "Sorry, I have to go," before quickly standing up.
"In-a…" Sana's voice caught, hesitating for a moment as In-a began walking away. A nagging voice in her head urged her to stay seated, to let it go. But another, louder voice warned her that if she didn't act now, she might lose whatever fragile connection they had.
Without another thought, she rose and followed.