Jason was already on the court when Yunho arrived, casually leaning against the chain-link fence with his racket dangling loosely from his fingers. The late afternoon sun cast sharp shadows across the cracked green surface and the faint squeak of shoes from another court drifted over the air. Jason's posture looked relaxed, almost lazy, but his eyes tracked Yunho's every step with the precision of a predator.
He looked up as Yunho stepped fully onto the court and offered him a slow, sarcastic smile that didn't come close to reaching his eyes.
"So," Jason began, voice smooth but dripping with thinly veiled annoyance, "here you are again."
Yunho stopped a few feet away, adjusting the strap of his tennis bag. Jason's tone was enough to set his nerves on edge, but he kept his face unreadable.
Jason continued, "Figured you'd just stick to swimming. But I guess tennis works for you too." His eyes flicked over Yunho's clothes, lingering for a moment on the brand-new racket poking out of his bag.
Yunho narrowed his eyes, keeping his voice even. "I come here to practice. Same as you."
Jason laughed, but it wasn't a friendly sound. It was short, bitter, and ended with a shake of his head. "Practice? Sure. More like trying to get closer to Bella. Don't think I haven't noticed."
The mention of her name was like a stone dropped in still water. Yunho felt the ripple of tension in his chest but refused to give Jason the satisfaction of seeing it. His jaw tightened, but his reply was calm. "That's none of your business."
Jason pushed himself off the fence and took a few slow steps forward, the hard soles of his shoes scuffing against the gritty surface. "Isn't it? I mean, you waltz in here acting like you own the place, like you can just take whatever you want—including Bella's attention." His smile was sharp now, cruel.
Yunho's eyes didn't waver. "I'm not here to compete with you. And I'm definitely not here to cause trouble."
Jason scoffed, swinging his racket in a lazy arc. "Trouble? You're the one making it awkward. You think she's yours now? Newsflash: she's not." His tone was sharp, but the faint crack beneath it betrayed him.
For a second, Yunho considered walking away. But something in Jason's tone, something that sounded less like confidence and more like anger and desperation, kept him rooted.
"Maybe," Yunho said, his voice dropping low, "if you weren't so focused on holding onto the past, you'd see things more clearly."
Jason's smirk faltered. A flicker of memory crossed his face: Bella's polite smile, her quiet words that day she'd turned him down. He had told himself it didn't matter, but standing here, it clearly did.
For a long moment, neither of them spoke. The distant thwock of tennis balls from other courts filled the silence. Without warning, Jason picked up a loose ball and slammed it harshly with his racket. The sharp crack echoed across the empty space, making Yunho's shoulders tense instinctively.
"Don't expect me to just step aside," Jason muttered, almost to himself, before turning on his heel and striding toward the gate. His shoulders were stiff, his pace quick, as if walking away was the only way to keep from saying more.
Yunho stayed where he was, his hand tightening around the grip of his racket. He watched Jason go, feeling the air between them still buzzing with unspoken words. Whatever this was between them, it wasn't over. Not even close.
The Message Before Saturday
Bella's phone buzzed quietly in the middle of her history notes. She had been highlighting sentences for the past hour, though her mind had been wandering far more than it should. She glanced at the screen and blinked when she saw the name.
It was a message from Yunho.
Hey. So, um… we're still on for tomorrow, right?
Her thumb hovered above the keyboard as she read it again. Something about the way he had typed "um" made him seem… nervous? It was strange, because Yunho never looked nervous at school. Always nicely pieced together, calm and collected, some may say that his confidence sometimes borderlined around arrogance.
Finally, she typed back:
Yeah, we are. See you.
A pause. She imagined him reading her message, deciding what to say next.
Another bubble appeared on the screen.
Cool. I was thinking, maybe lunch? Earlier in the day?
Bella leaned back in her chair. Lunch. That meant they'd actually have to talk, no hiding behind the distraction of a movie or the excuse of friends being around.
Lunch sounds good.
She hesitated for a second before his next message arrived.
May I pick you up?
That one made her freeze. He wanted to pick her up. Which meant he'd see her dorm, where other girls would be around. She bit her lip, then typed:
Sure. I'll send you my address.
After a moment's pause, she copied her address into the chat and sent it.
A few seconds later, the reply came.
Got it. I'll be there around 12:30.
Bella put her phone down, her heart fluttering in that strange, nervous way that made it hard to focus. Lunch. A real meet-up. Less time to overthink in the morning, but somehow more pressure to act normal when she saw him.
She stared at her history notes again, the yellow highlighter limp in her hand. Her mind had already abandoned the French Revolution and was running ahead to tomorrow.
In his room across town, Yunho sat cross-legged on his bed, phone still in hand, staring at Bella's last message. He'd rehearsed this moment in his head at least a dozen times over the past week: what to say, how to ask but now that it was done, the reality of it made his palms sweat.
"I can do this," he muttered under his breath. "Just be normal."
Normal. It sounded simple enough, but his heart hadn't slowed since she'd agreed to lunch. Usually, he was calm under pressure, whether it was on the starting block before a swim meet or staring down the finish line in track. But this? This was different. Meeting Bella outside of school, outside of their casual group settings, felt… bigger.
He opened her message thread again, reading over her responses like there was some hidden meaning between the lines. She'd agreed to lunch without hesitation. She'd sent her address without teasing or hesitation. That had to mean something, right?
His gaze flicked to the little map link she'd sent. Not too far from his place, right next to school. A fifteen-minute ride at most.
He set the phone down beside him, running through a mental list of conversation starters about her favourite foods, movies, maybe asking her about that book she'd been reading during lunch last week. Anything to avoid awkward silences.
But then came the darker thoughts. What if she thought he was boring? What if he said something stupid and she decided she'd rather spend time with Jason after all?
The thought made his jaw tighten. He didn't want to think about Jason, especially not after what had happened earlier at the courts. Still, the echo of Jason's sharp, accusing voice lingered like a shadow in his head.
Yunho shook it off and stood, stretching. He caught his reflection in the mirror and ran a hand through his hair, adjusting it without really thinking. He needed to pick something to wear tomorrow. Something not too deliberate, not too casual, not too formal. Something that looked effortless but not careless.
Before leaving the room, Yunho picked up his phone again, just to look at her address one more time.
Tomorrow at 12:30.
Just be yourself, he reminded himself one last time. But deep down, he knew that "himself" might not be enough to keep Jason's words from echoing in Bella's mind too.
Bella's Night Before the Lunch
The evening dragged in slow motion.
Bella had tried, like really tried, to focus on her homework after Yunho's messages, but every time she stared at her textbook, the words seemed to blur into abstract shapes. The more she forced herself to concentrate, the more her mind wandered, like a stubborn kite pulling away from its string.
By nine o'clock, she had given up completely and was curled up on her bed, scrolling absently through her phone. Every so often, she'd glance at her messages with Yunho, half-wondering if she should send something else. Just a casual text. Something like, Looking forward to tomorrow. But then she imagined how that might sound. Too eager? Too obvious?
She set her phone down face-first on the pillow beside her and exhaled.
Jason's face flickered in her mind. Not from today, but from last time they hung out at the fun fair before his abrupt confession and was laughing with her. Back then, everything had felt easy. Back then, she didn't have to think about whether spending time with him meant something.
Bella sat up, pressing her palms to her face. She didn't want tomorrow to be about Jason. She wondered if the news about their not a date date had gotten to Jason's ears and if Yunho's presence bothered him this much, it was only a matter of time before something gave way.
And then there was Yunho.
Her heart picked up speed at the thought.
She didn't want to admit it, but part of her liked that Yunho seemed nervous around her. Jason had never been nervous. Jason had always been bold, sometimes too much so, as if he couldn't imagine a world where she wouldn't be impressed.
She grabbed her phone again, the urge to text bubbling up. She typed:
Don't forget tomorrow's lunch.
Then she stared at it, thumb hovering over send. It was too playful, too pointed. She deleted it, sighing. Maybe she'd just see him tomorrow and let the day play out.
Jason's Night Before the Lunch
Jason sat on the edge of his bed, tennis bag still on the floor where he'd dropped it hours ago. His racket leaned against the wall, strings still humming faintly in his memory from the hard swing he'd taken earlier at the court.
He replayed the conversation with Yunho in his head for the fifth or maybe the fifteenth time. The way Yunho had just stood there, calm as stone, like Jason's words barely made a dent. That infuriating steadiness was exactly why Jason didn't trust him.
Yunho wasn't just "the new guy at the courts." He was the kind of person who slipped in without making noise and then, somehow, ended up at the centre of everything.
And now, he was having lunch with Bella.
Jason rubbed the back of his neck, feeling the tight knot of muscle there. He tried not to think about that day a few weeks ago or the quiet weight of the words when she said. I'm sorry, Jason. I just… don't feel that way about you. He had smiled then, told her it was fine, that they could still be friends. But the truth was, the rejection had burned its way deep, and the part of him that still wanted her refused to let go.
He got up and paced the room, his steps quick and restless. The truth was, Bella and he had drifted away against his better judgment to hold on to her somehow. At the same time, he couldn't shake off the shame and embarrassment of her rejection every time he sees her.
But now, the thought of Yunho showing up at her door tomorrow made something twist in his chest. Jason grabbed his phone, scrolling through his messages with Bella. The last one he'd sent was a picture from the courts a week ago, captioned: We should play again soon. She'd replied with a thumbs-up emoji and nothing more.
His thumb hovered over the keyboard, tempted to send something that might steer her thoughts back to him. Maybe a reminder of old times. Maybe a simple Good night. But he knew it would sound obvious, like he was trying too hard.
Instead, he tossed the phone onto his bed and dropped into his desk chair. Jason leaned back, exhaling sharply through his nose. He told himself he wasn't jealous. Jealousy was for people who didn't have what it took to win. He just needed to make sure Yunho didn't think he could walk in and take over.
Still, the image of Bella laughing with Yunho, leaning in just a little too close, made his hands curl into fists.
He didn't know exactly what he would do tomorrow, but he knew one thing for certain: he wasn't going to let Yunho get the upper hand. Not with her. Not with anything.
Jason turned off the light and lay down, but sleep didn't come easily. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw the lunch table, Bella between them, and the silent war neither of them would admit they were fighting.
And in that picture, Jason wasn't losing.
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