The sun was warm, the breeze gentle, and the rooftop was quiet — just the way M/n liked it. It had become their little tradition over the years: lunch on the rooftop, away from the noisy cafeteria, away from everyone else. Just the two of them.

Jeonghyeon always said it was his favorite part of the day.

Today was no different. M/n watched as Jeonghyeon plopped down next to him, the boy’s hair sticking up in the back from rushing to school. He always slept in, always barely made it before the bell. M/n’s hand itched to reach out, to smooth it down like he always did — but this time, he hesitated.

His feelings had started to overflow lately, building up like rain in a cup too small to hold it all. He wasn’t sure when it got this bad. Maybe it was when Jeonghyeon started leaning his head on his shoulder during study periods. Maybe it was when he started sharing his drinks without a second thought. Or maybe it was when Jeonghyeon started talking about someone else.

“You won’t believe it,” Jeonghyeon said between bites of kimbap. His eyes sparkled in that way that always knocked the air out of M/n’s lungs. “I think I have a crush on someone.”

M/n’s chopsticks froze in midair. His throat tightened, but he forced a smile, just like always. “Oh yeah? Who?”

Jeonghyeon shrugged, grinning. “Someone in Class 3. I don't know… he's just cool. I kind of want to get closer to him.”

That was the thing about Jeonghyeon — when he liked someone, he never held back. He went all in. And M/n knew, deep down, that Jeonghyeon would never look at him like that.

But still, he sat there, listening, nodding, giving advice, pretending he wasn’t breaking apart inside.

“You think I should confess soon?” Jeonghyeon asked, nudging M/n’s arm playfully. “I mean, it’s not like I’ve ever been good at this stuff.”

M/n forced a laugh. “Yeah, go for it. Why not?”

His heart whispered, Because I want you to like me instead.

Jeonghyeon beamed, satisfied with the answer. “You’re the best, you know that? I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Be fine, M/n thought bitterly. You’d be fine without me.

But the words never came out. They stayed stuck in his throat, where all his other unsaid things lived.

They finished their lunch, like always. They walked home together, like always. Jeonghyeon talked about his favorite video games, his plans for the weekend, the homework he didn’t want to do — and M/n listened, like always.

When they reached Jeonghyeon’s house, he waved, that same easy smile on his face. “See you tomorrow?”

“Yeah,” M/n said softly. “Like always.”

But that night, as M/n stared at the ceiling in the dark, he realized something had changed.

I can’t keep pretending forever, he thought. But if I tell him… I might lose him. And if I stay like this… it hurts.

He pressed his hands over his chest, trying to hold himself together.

It’s okay. I’m just happy to be by your side. Even if you never know.

The school festival was just around the corner, and the whole campus buzzed with excitement. Colorful banners hung in the hallways, class booths were under construction, and students ran around rehearsing performances.

M/n, as always, was on cleanup duty with Jeonghyeon — not because they were assigned to it, but because Jeonghyeon had dragged him into it.

“You know you’re basically my manager at this point,” Jeonghyeon joked, balancing a stack of paint cans in his arms. “What would I do without you?”

You’d do just fine, M/n wanted to say, but instead, he forced a smile and grabbed the brushes. “Yeah, yeah. Let’s just finish this before sunset.”

They spent the whole afternoon painting the backdrop for Jeonghyeon’s class performance. M/n knelt down, carefully tracing the outlines, while Jeonghyeon carelessly flicked paint at him when he got bored.

“Hey,” Jeonghyeon said after a long silence. “Do you think… if I confessed during the festival, it would be too much?”

M/n’s hand froze mid-stroke. His heartbeat echoed in his ears. He looked up slowly, his voice barely steady. “You’re really serious about him, huh?”

Jeonghyeon’s grin softened, something fond glimmering in his eyes. “Yeah. He's cool, you know? It’s probably stupid, but I think I really like him.”

M/n felt the weight of the brush in his hand like it was made of lead. His chest squeezed painfully, but he nodded anyway. “Then you should do it.”

He wanted to scream. He wanted to cry. He wanted to be the one Jeonghyeon looked at like that.

But he stayed where he was — on the floor, on the sidelines. The second lead in his own story.

Days passed, and M/n helped Jeonghyeon plan the confession. He helped pick out gifts, design the little festival surprise, and even rehearsed what Jeonghyeon should say. Every time Jeonghyeon smiled and said “You’re the best,” it chipped away at M/n’s heart a little more.

Their rooftop lunches became shorter. M/n found excuses to leave early. He told himself it was better this way — to pull back before he shattered completely.

But Jeonghyeon noticed.

One afternoon, as they packed up after class, Jeonghyeon grabbed his wrist. “You’ve been weird lately. Did I do something wrong?”

M/n flinched. “No, you didn’t.”

“Then why are you avoiding me?” Jeonghyeon’s voice cracked just a little. “I don’t like it when you’re not around. You know that, right?”

Don’t say things like that. Don’t make me hope.

M/n yanked his hand back, forcing a shaky laugh. “I’ve just been busy. It’s not a big deal.”

But Jeonghyeon wasn’t convinced. His brows furrowed, his gaze searching. “You’re lying to me.”

M/n’s chest burned. His throat was dry. He wanted to tell him. He wanted to scream it in his face. I LIKE YOU. I’VE ALWAYS LIKED YOU. PLEASE, JUST LOOK AT ME.

But instead, he said softly, “Let’s just focus on your confession. That’s more important, right?”

Jeonghyeon stared at him like he didn’t understand. Like M/n was speaking a language he couldn’t hear.

“Yeah,” Jeonghyeon mumbled eventually, letting go. “Yeah, okay.”

The festival arrived in a blur of lights and laughter. M/n went through the motions, helping with decorations, manning a booth, pretending to be fine.

When Jeonghyeon finally confessed — behind the gym, just like they planned — M/n wasn’t there to watch. He couldn’t bear it.

Instead, he sat on their rooftop, head in his hands, trying not to fall apart.

When Jeonghyeon found him later, his face was unreadable. “They said no.”

M/n’s head shot up, surprised. “What?”

“They turned me down.” Jeonghyeon sat beside him, hugging his knees. “They said… they think I like someone else. I don’t get it.”

M/n’s heart thudded painfully. His voice trembled. “Do you?”

Jeonghyeon went quiet. The city lights flickered below them, the distant sound of festival music filling the silence.

“…I don’t know.” Jeonghyeon’s voice was soft, almost scared. “But when I think about who I wanted to see after being rejected… I thought of you.”

M/n’s breath caught in his throat. His heart was pounding so loud he was sure Jeonghyeon could hear it.

But he said nothing. Not yet.

Because maybe, just maybe, this story wasn’t over yet.

After the festival, something between them shifted.

Jeonghyeon didn’t talk about his crush anymore. Didn’t bring up the rejection. Didn’t push M/n for answers.

But he also didn’t leave M/n alone.

If anything, he clung harder — dragging him to convenience stores after school, pestering him to join group projects, messaging him late into the night with the same question over and over.

“Are you okay?”

And M/n always lied.

“Yeah. I’m fine.”

But he wasn’t.

Every forced smile chipped away at him. Every shared moment felt like standing at the edge of a cliff — the wind always ready to push him over.

He stopped showing up to rooftop lunches. Stopped walking home with Jeonghyeon. Stopped replying right away.

And still, Jeonghyeon chased him.

“M/n.”

Jeonghyeon cornered him one afternoon by the shoe lockers. His usual grin was gone — replaced by something tight and strained.

“You’re avoiding me again.”

M/n’s heart sank. He adjusted his bag, keeping his gaze low. “I’ve just been busy.”

“Liar.” Jeonghyeon stepped closer. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

“I said I’m fine.”

“Then why won’t you look at me anymore?”

His voice cracked, and it almost broke M/n’s resolve. Almost.

“You don’t need me around all the time, you know,” M/n muttered, trying to sidestep him.

But Jeonghyeon grabbed his wrist — tightly this time. The same wrist he used to hold so casually.

“I do need you,” Jeonghyeon said, desperation seeping through his words. “Why can’t you see that?”

M/n’s chest burned. His throat ached. The words pressed against his teeth, begging to be let out — I like you. I love you. I’ve always—

But instead, he yanked his hand free and walked away. He didn’t dare look back.

He thought Jeonghyeon would eventually give up. Thought he’d move on. Thought he’d forget.

But Jeonghyeon didn’t.

It was during festival cleanup week that M/n’s body finally gave out.

A fever hit him hard, exhaustion piling on after weeks of sleepless nights and skipped meals. He collapsed on his desk after school, cold sweat clinging to his skin. He barely registered his classmates panicking around him.

When he opened his eyes again, he was in the nurse’s office — Jeonghyeon sitting beside him, his usual jacket now draped over M/n’s shoulders.

“You’re such an idiot,” Jeonghyeon whispered, gently pressing a cold pack to his forehead. His voice trembled. “Why didn’t you tell me you were sick?”

M/n’s throat was dry. His head was heavy. His whole body ached.

But even in his fever haze, the ache in his chest hurt more.

“I didn’t want to bother you,” M/n croaked weakly.

Jeonghyeon’s brows furrowed. “You’re never a bother to me. Never.”

M/n turned his head away, tears pricking at his eyes.

Jeonghyeon reached out, gripping his hand tightly. “Stop pulling away from me. I don’t understand why you keep doing this. I don’t want to lose you too.”

Something in Jeonghyeon’s voice cracked. There was real fear in his words, trembling like he was standing on thin ice.

M/n’s heart clenched.

Half-conscious, walls crumbling, he whispered, “It’s because I like you, stupid.”

Silence.

It took M/n a second to realize what he just said.

But his body was too tired to panic. His mouth just… kept moving.

“I like you. I’ve liked you for a long time. I know you don’t feel the same but—” His voice shook. “—but it hurts too much to keep pretending.”

His vision blurred with tears. “So please… just let me go. Stop chasing me.”

Because the more you chase me, the more I hope. And hope is cruel.

His eyelids drooped. The world turned quiet.

The last thing he heard was Jeonghyeon’s soft, broken whisper: “Don’t… don’t let go.”

When M/n woke up, Jeonghyeon was gone. So was his jacket.

But there was a note on the table, scrawled in Jeonghyeon’s messy handwriting:

Wait for me. Please wait.

Jeonghyeon ran.

He didn’t know where his feet were taking him, didn’t know how to quiet the storm in his chest, didn’t know how to process the words M/n had just said.

I like you.

They echoed in his head like a broken record. His pulse thundered in his ears. His mouth was dry.

I like you.

He thought back to everything. The lunches. The late-night calls. The walks home. The way M/n always looked at him with something soft, something heavy, something Jeonghyeon didn’t understand—until now.

How could he have been so stupid?

The person he wanted to see when he was sad, when he was happy, when he was bored— The person he wanted to tell every little thing to— The person who made his day better by just existing—

It was always M/n.

How did he not see it sooner?

It wasn’t just friendship. It never was.

He thought about how M/n had slowly pulled away, how Jeonghyeon had panicked, how he chased him without knowing why it hurt so much to be left behind.

You keep chasing me… but the more you chase me, the more I hope.

Jeonghyeon’s chest twisted painfully.

You’re allowed to hope, he thought fiercely. I want you to hope. I want you to believe I feel the same. Because I do. I do.

He turned on his heel, sprinting back toward the school.

By the time he burst into the nurse’s office, M/n was already sitting up, looking dazed and exhausted, clutching Jeonghyeon’s jacket like it was the only thing holding him together.

Their eyes met.

M/n opened his mouth—probably to apologize, to take it back, to tell him to forget it.

Jeonghyeon didn’t let him.

He crossed the room in three steps, dropped to his knees in front of him, and cupped his face with both hands. His heart was pounding so loud, so hard, but his voice came out steady.

“I like you too.”

M/n blinked, like he didn’t hear it.

“I like you,” Jeonghyeon said again, firmer this time, like he could hammer the truth into the space between them. “I think I’ve always liked you. I just didn’t get it. I thought it was just—you know, you’re my best friend, right? Of course I want you around. Of course I care about you more than anyone else. Of course I get jealous when you spend time with other people. I just—”

He laughed, breathless and teary-eyed. “I was so stupid.”

M/n’s throat bobbed as he swallowed, his voice cracking. “You’re serious?”

Jeonghyeon leaned in, pressing their foreheads together. “I’m serious. I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.”

M/n’s hands trembled as they gripped Jeonghyeon’s sleeves. “But you liked someone else.”

Jeonghyeon shook his head, eyes closing. “I liked the idea of liking them. But when I got rejected, the only person I wanted to see was you. The only person who makes me feel… like this… is you.”

M/n’s chest heaved. “It’s not just pity?”

“Hey,” Jeonghyeon pulled back, frowning softly, cupping his cheeks with both hands. “I don’t pity you. I love you.”

It felt natural, like breathing. Like the words had always been sitting on his tongue, waiting to fall into place.

M/n’s lips trembled. “You… you can’t just say that so easily.”

“Why not? It’s true.” Jeonghyeon grinned, finally — that familiar, boyish grin that had always made M/n’s heart skip. “I love you. I love you so much, you idiot.”

M/n’s eyes welled with tears, and Jeonghyeon wiped them away with his thumbs.

“Do you forgive me for being late?” Jeonghyeon whispered.

M/n let out a shaky laugh, leaning into his touch. “Yeah. I forgive you.”

“Good,” Jeonghyeon smiled. “Because I’m gonna spend every day making it up to you.”

And he sealed his promise with a soft, lingering kiss — gentle, a little clumsy, but warm enough to melt away all the months of aching.

When they pulled apart, Jeonghyeon pressed their foreheads together again and whispered, “Let’s have lunch on the rooftop tomorrow?”

M/n’s heart finally felt light again. “Yeah,” he smiled. “Like always.”

But this time, it would be different. This time, he wouldn’t have to pretend anymore. This time, they were in the same story.