ALL HE CAN GIVE.

AFTER THE CONTEST.

Seo Do-Yoon's POV

A month has passed since I confessed to Ju-Ha. He admitted he was miserable because I ignored him, and I forgave him. I can still feel the butterflies from when he hugged me tight, whining that I shouldn't suggest we date. I can't believe it happened. I know... I know... I promised not to randomly kiss him, but a guy can dream, right?

We hang out more frequently after the performance (we won, by the way), and even though we know we're more than friends, we're still less than lovers. I know I shouldn't settle for less, but have you met Ju-Ha? I can't even hold his hand without him freaking out, but we're getting there. Last week, we held pinkies for thirty seconds while walking home—he only let go because a stray cat made some noise and scared him. So yeah, we're heading somewhere.

I've been trying to ask him out to the movies for a mini-date, but he always goes on about how "someone might see us" and how "a movie theatre is too public." So, I came up with a better idea: invite him to my place. My dad's never home, and this Saturday he'll be on a business trip for two weeks, so I'll have the house all to myself. I hope Ju-Ha will feel safe there, and we can finally relax and just hang out.

Now, all I have to do is figure out how to bring it up casually so he doesn't reject me. Today is Thursday, so it's probably the best time, to give him some time to think about it. I'm a little nervous since it'll be his first time coming to my home, but I have to start somewhere. I'll do anything to get closer to him.

"SEO DO-YOON!! You better be thinking about how to improve your grades right now—that's the only reason I'll allow you to space out in my class."

Mr. Mark's angry voice snaps me out of my thoughts. I look up, and the whole class is staring at me, holding back laughter. A few giggles escape before everyone bursts out laughing.

"Of course, Mr. Mark, you know how seriously I take your class," I say with the softest voice and the biggest smile I can muster, trying to placate his obvious annoyance.

The class quiets down as he looks away and continues with the lesson. Glancing at the wall clock behind him, it's ten minutes before the bell rings, fifteen minutes before I can get to the field, and twenty minutes before I see Ju-Ha.

Time drags when you're waiting for something. My desk mate taps me angrily, bringing to my attention that my leg tapping is shaking his desk. I switch to tapping my fingers, slowly forming a beat on my desk, sighing in relief when the bell finally rings. A minute later, Mr. Mark says goodbye, concluding the lessons for the day, and I'm out the door before anyone else.

I walk into the gym, and only a few seniors are there, ready to start our casual basketball game. It's a good way to de-stress after a long day, something we do almost every day like an unspoken rule. I greet everyone, grab a ball, and start warming up, trying to keep up a conversation while my eyes keep darting to the entrance.

Minutes pass, and the game is about to start. I can't help feeling disappointed that Ju-Ha hasn't arrived yet. His fellow seniors are here, so his class must be over. Maybe he's running an errand?

Just as I'm about to give up hope, I see him stroll in, hands in his pockets, looking like a classic bad boy straight out of a movie. His white uniform shirt, a little tight around the shoulders, is unbuttoned, revealing a black shirt underneath that clings to his biceps. The black pants hang loosely around his waist, and his white sneakers complete the look. He catches me staring, raises an eyebrow in question, and I quickly look away, pretending the guy next to me just said something incredibly interesting.

"Great! Ju-Ha is here, we can finally start," a senior announces, bringing the chatter to a halt.

Teams are formed, and the sound of sneakers on the court fills the air. I try not to show my excitement as I realize I'm on the same team as him. The game starts, and it's clear we're winning—almost every ball I get, I pass to Ju-Ha, and he scores again and again. I can't help but smile as I watch him move, so agile and fast, remembering the first time we played together. He had insisted I pass him the ball in that stern voice of his, the one that's supposed to be mean and standoffish. But even then, I was so whipped I didn't even notice.