He thought I didn't notice.
But how could I not?
The way he looked at me—like I was something worth looking at. Something different. The way his eyes softened when they met mine, like he was surprised to find me there, in his world. Like I had accidentally stumbled into a space meant only for him.
I tell myself it means nothing.
That his gaze is just the result of a friendship formed out of proximity, of working together day after day. But then I catch him looking at me from the corner of my eye and my heart skips a beat.
I'm foolish.
I should know better.
He's Kim Sunghoon, after all.
The stoic, perfect, untouchable one—the most handsome face of Korea's best boy band. The one everyone adores.
And me?
I'm just… me. A girl meant to stay in the background, fade into the noise, and never be noticed.
Except... sometimes, he notices me.
It's a cruel thing, to feel someone's gaze on you and not be sure whether it's a look of longing or indifference.
Sometimes, I swear I catch a spark of something in his eyes—a flicker of warmth, of something real. Then just as quickly, it's gone. He turns away, his face as unreadable as ever, and I'm left wondering if I imagined it all.
I've convinced myself that it's just me—just my overactive imagination running wild. That he doesn't look at me any differently than he does anyone else. That when he's nice to me, it's nothing more than a formality. He's kind to everyone, after all.
I tell myself that every day.
But... there's always that part of me that hopes.
That wants to believe there's more.
The little things get to me.
The way he never forgets to ask if I'm okay when I've been running around too much.
The way he holds my gaze just a bit longer than necessary, as if searching for something in my eyes, then quickly looks away.
The way his smile shifts when I'm near—like it's a little softer, a little more real.
But then, there are the moments when he laughs with someone else.
When his eyes light up with that warmth I wish he'd show me. And I tell myself that it's just because they're close. That they have a bond I don't have with him.
He doesn't look at me like that.
He can't.
I'm not blind.
I see how he is with others—how effortless it is for him to show affection, to be open, to laugh and share jokes. With me?
It's different. There's always a wall between us, one I can't quite explain. It's subtle but sharp—like an invisible line he's afraid to cross, or maybe doesn't want to.
I'm not sure which one it is.
But I tell myself it's fine.
That I'm being foolish.
That I'm reading too much into it.
But then, I catch him looking at me again.
Just a fleeting moment, but this time... it feels different.
His eyes lock onto mine and hold. It's like he's trying to say something, but he can't find the words.
And for just a second, I think, Maybe he does feel it.
Maybe there's more to the way he looks at me than I want to admit.
But I'm only 80 percent sure.
And 20 percent of me knows better than to hope.
That part of me tells me to stop, to stop waiting for something that will never come. That he'll never look at me the way I need him to.
Maybe he doesn't love me. Maybe I'm just another person in his life, nothing more than a fleeting moment, a brief connection that means less to him than it does to me.
I'll never ask.
I won't push him for answers, not when I'm still so unsure.
I'll keep pretending I don't care. Keep smiling and laughing like everything is fine.
But inside?
Inside, I'll keep wondering.
If maybe, just maybe, his silence means something.
If maybe, just maybe, he feels the same way.
But right now, I can't be sure.
And maybe that's the hardest part of all..
I was deep in my thoughts again, the whirlwind of uncertainty swirling around me as I carefully straightened Jay's hair. I'd been doing this for what felt like hours, and all I could think about was Sunghoon—his gaze, his distance, and everything in between.
I accidentally pressed the hot iron a little too close to my hand.
The sharp pain shot through my skin like a jolt of electricity.
"Ah!" I gasped, pulling my hand back too quickly, and in that instant, the iron slipped slightly from my grip, grazing my wrist.
I cradled my hand against my chest, trying to ignore the sting. It wasn't the first time I'd been careless, but this time... something felt different. The pain was sharp, but it was nothing compared to the ache in my heart that I couldn't quite explain.
Before I could catch my breath, I felt it.
The weight of someone's presence.
A hand on my wrist, warm and urgent.
"Jiwon, are you okay?" Sunghoon's voice was suddenly right beside me, rough and concerned. It startled me, and for a moment, I froze.
I looked up to find him standing there, his brows furrowed in that familiar mix of concern and something else—something I wasn't sure I could name. His hand gently cupped mine, inspecting the burn with a tenderness that sent a chill through me.
"You should care for yourself more," he scolded, though his voice trembled slightly, as if trying to mask the panic underneath. "You're so careless sometimes. You should've been more cautious."
His words were harsh, almost angry, but they were laced with something else. Something soft. Care. But he didn't let it show fully. His fingers tightened around my hand, the heat from his skin mingling with the sting of my burn.
"Sunghoon," I murmured, unable to tear my gaze from his.
But he didn't respond immediately. Instead, he just looked at me, his lips pressed together in frustration, as if struggling to find the right words. His gaze flickered between my hand and my eyes, the intensity of his stare growing heavier by the second.
I opened my mouth to say something, but before I could get the words out, he pulled me closer. Without thinking, he reached out and tucked a lock of my hair behind my ear, his fingers brushing against my skin, sending a spark of warmth through me.
"Be more careful," he muttered under his breath, so quietly I almost missed it. "You're important, Jiwon."
And just like that, he released my hand, stepping back slightly.
But the moment hung in the air like a breath held too long. Neither of us spoke. Neither of us moved. And in that brief silence, I couldn't help but wonder if he was as lost as I was, caught between words unspoken and feelings that lingered like ghosts in the space between us.