'I don't wanna look at anything else now that I saw you.'
Coming from a wealthy family was never the major flex in her life. To others, she might come off as a rich spoilt brat but the reality was far from what they perceived her to be.
In a world...
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The café was quieter in the early morning, save for the occasional chime of the entrance bell and the low hum of conversation from a few scattered customers. The rich scent of freshly brewed coffee filled the air, mingling with the faint sweetness of pastries displayed near the counter.
Jeonghan sat at the far end of the café, surrounded by his friends, but feeling entirely alone. He barely touched the coffee in front of him, the steam curling upward in lazy spirals. His fingers rested around the ceramic cup, absorbing the warmth but never bringing it to his lips.
His reflection in the dark liquid mirrored the exhaustion written all over his face—unkempt hair, dark circles under his eyes, the usual sharpness in his expression dulled by sleepless nights.
It had been days since Miyeon rejected him, yet she remained in every thought, every breath, every quiet moment where his mind had nowhere else to go. No matter how much he tried, he couldn’t outrun the memory of her voice, the weight of her words, the way she looked at him—not with love, but with an apology.
And yet he couldn't bring himself to hate her.
"Jeonghan!", a voice pulled him out of his trance. He blinked, finally noticing Seungcheol watching him, concern evident in his eyes, "You haven’t said a word since we got here."
Jeonghan exhaled, forcing a small smile, "Just tired from regular practices. That's all.", he murmured, though they all knew better.
"That's new...", Yewon murmured, her eyes fixed on Taehyung who was taking orders of a couple at the counter.
Mingyu scoffed, leaning back in his chair with a nod, "Yeah, no kidding. You look like you haven’t slept in a week."
Joshua, always the gentler one, nudged Jeonghan’s coffee closer, "At least drink something. You’ll feel a little better."
He knew they meant well, but their words barely registered. The café, the voices, even the warmth of his friends around him—all of it felt distant. Because in the back of his mind, all he could hear was Miyeon’s voice saying, 'I’m sorry, Jeonghan… but I don’t feel the same.'
The silence that followed was heavy, filled only by the occasional clink of cups and the soft murmur of other customers. No one quite knew what to say, and Jeonghan wasn’t offering anything to make it easier. He let his gaze drift to the steam curling from his coffee, barely noticing the movement near their table until a familiar voice cut through the quiet.
"You seriously need to stop moping, Jeonghan.", Taehyung stood beside them, still clad in his café apron, arms crossed as he gave Jeonghan a pointed look.
His hair was slightly tousled from rushing between tables, but his expression was firm—concern hidden beneath the usual teasing tone, "We have a match the day after tomorrow. If you keep dragging yourself like this, it’s not just the game you’ll mess up—it’s your own health."
