Bella buried herself in study.
She told herself it was about staying on track, about catching up after her books were ruined, about prepping for finals, about being responsible. But deep down, she knew it was something else.
Studying was quiet. Predictable. Safe.
And it was easier than sitting with all the feelings she wasn't ready to name.
So she spent her lunches in the library, headphones in, pages open, highlighters strewn like armor around her.
And still, she heard things.
Little scraps of conversation that drifted across the aisles and tables whether she wanted them or not.
"Did you hear? Another girl from orchestra literally confessed to him yesterday."
"I heard she wrote him a poem! Can you imagine? A poem!"
"He was so nice about it though. Like… unfairly nice."
"I'd still risk it, honestly. That smile? That face? That body? Worth it."
Bella didn't ask for these details. But they found her anyway, carried through hallway chatter and restroom echoes and the low buzz of girls who seemed to treat Yunho like an open challenge.
And to his credit, he was never cruel. Never dismissive. Yunho always turned them down gently, with a kind smile and that ever-so-slightly tilted head that made it feel less like rejection and more like a soft no wrapped in care. He would let them finish, let them shove their little folded confession letters or cookies into his hands with hopeful, blushing eyes, and with that calm, kind voice, say the same thing every time:
"I'm flattered, really. But I'm seeing someone. I hope that doesn't change how you see me."
It was gracious. It was mature. It was exactly what she would expect from him. And still… still, Bella felt that tiny twist in her chest whenever she overheard it. Because it sounded practiced. Almost second nature. As if he'd been gently turning people down for years, always with that soft smile and slightly tilted head, ever the gentleman.
She trusted him. She really did. But the fact that he was so good at this, being wanted, being kind, being admirable, made her feel smaller somehow. Like she was watching something she didn't quite deserve and hoping no one else questioned it out loud.
So she studied. She underlined. She re-wrote her chem notes twice and color-coded her history timeline even though her hands were shaking from exhaustion. She stayed late after class with a fake excuse about catching up. She said nothing.
She still met Yunho between classes sometimes. Still smiled at the right moments. Still let him hold her hand. But something in her was… quieter. Cautious. Like she was standing a little further back from something she wasn't ready to touch.
And Yunho noticed.
He didn't confront her, didn't call her out. But he started walking her home more often.
Even on the days when he had late practice or morning training, he'd show up after school like clockwork, sometimes with a warm drink, sometimes with nothing but that steady presence of his. He didn't fill the silence with jokes or questions. He let her talk when she wanted and let the quiet stretch when she didn't.
Still, he'd drop little things into the space between them. Gentle observations. Barely-there truths.
"You've been squinting at your notes more lately. Stress headaches again?"
"You flinch a little when people talk loudly near you. I don't think they notice. But I do."
"You walk like you're afraid someone's going to read your mind."
It wasn't criticism. It was care, disguised in calm. She kept trying to be fine. She laughed at the right places, held his hand back, leaned lightly against his shoulder. But it was the version of her that was holding her breath.
One afternoon, as they rounded the curve near her street, Yunho slowed slightly so she'd match his pace. The shadows stretched behind them and the only sound was the soft drag of their shoes on pavement.
"You know," he said casually, "someone from theatre club confessed to me this morning."
Bella didn't stop walking. Didn't look at him. "Oh."
"She left a note in my locker," he added. "With a drawing. Of me. Holding a rose."
Bella let out a breath, part snort, part sigh. "Was it… accurate?"
Yunho grinned. "Weirdly, yeah. I think she studied my yearbook photo like a blueprint."
Bella's mouth curved, just a little. But then he spoke again.
"I told her I'm with someone," he said, more gently now. "Like I always do."
That made her pause. Just for a second. Enough to hear it land.
"I don't want you hearing stuff secondhand," he said. "I want you to know it from me. Always."
Bella's steps faltered. She looked down at her shoes. "You don't owe me a report every time someone likes you."
He didn't laugh. "It's not a report," he said. "It's me telling you that you are the only person I want. And I don't want there to be a single day where you wonder."
Bella finally lifted her gaze. And there it was again: his face open, honest, steady. Not defensive, not offended, just… Yunho. Offering her a place to rest if she wanted it.
"I trust you," she said quietly.
"I know." He looked at her for a long moment. "But I don't want that trust to have to work overtime."
They reached her gate but neither stepped forward. The sky had gone soft and pink behind them.
She wanted to say everything in that moment. About the locker. About the chlorine. About how it made her feel like an intruder in his world. How hearing her name next to his sometimes made her feel exposed instead of proud. But her throat closed around it. Words were heavy. She wasn't ready to put them out in the open yet.
She looked down at her hands gripping the strap of her bag.
"I'm not trying to shut you out," she whispered.
"I know." He stepped closer so their arms were touching, shoulder to shoulder. "I just… miss you. Miss us. The way we were."
That stung. Not because it was a complaint, but because it was completely true.
Her eyes burned as she let herself lean into him, just a little. She didn't say it yet. Not the way he said it. But she stepped closer. Let their sides press together. Let herself exhale and lean, even if it was just an inch.
And Yunho didn't push for more. He just reached down, found her hand gently, and linked their fingers.
Yunho took a subtle left turn at the corner and Bella followed without asking. The path led them toward the old neighbourhood playground. It was mostly empty at this hour, the kind of forgotten little nook no one paid much attention to once elementary school let out. Just a rusted swing set, a dented aluminium slide, and the familiar creak of woodchips shifting under their shoes. They sat on one of the low platforms near the slide, side by side.
It should've felt childish. But somehow, it didn't. Here, it felt like time slowed down, like there was something sacred about the quiet.
Bella looked at him fully now and this time nothing in her was guarded. Her body leaned closer by instinct. Her shoulder brushed his. Their knees lined up. Everything felt quiet, but magnetic.
Yunho's hand came up slowly, like he didn't want to startle her. His fingertips skimmed her jaw, then moved to cradle her cheek so gently it made her eyes sting.
"Are you here now?" he asked.
She meant to answer with another snarky comeback, something to lighten the ache blooming quietly in her chest, but he closed the space between them so smoothly that her breath caught. His hand slipped around her lower back, drawing her just close enough.
"Yunho,"
"I can't wait any longer," he murmured, his voice low and tight, eyes burning into hers. "I need to kiss you, now."
Her breath hitched. She meant to answer with something teasing, something to lighten the tension, but he closed the space between them before she could. His hand curved around her lower back, pulling her just close enough.
"Yunho—"
He pressed his lips to hers suddenly, hunger mixed with need, rougher than before. It wasn't polite. It wasn't careful. It was raw, urgent, almost desperate in its intensity. His teeth grazed hers lightly, lips pressing with a force that left her breathless, her knees weak against the platform. Her hands flew to his shoulders, clutching him, trying to anchor herself against the rush of heat and chaos that surged through her. Her fingers fisted in the fabric of his shirt, pulling him closer, trying to match the force of his need.
The platform creaked beneath them as she shifted, half in his lap now. Their lips moved in sync, fierce and searching. It was a collision of everything they'd been holding back, all the stolen touches, all the longing, all the tension of the past week coming to life in this one charged moment.
Yunho's hand tightened at the small of her back, drawing her flush against him, and she could feel the hard strength of him beneath her hands. His other hand tangled in her hair, tugging slightly, pulling her closer, deepening the kiss. It was messy, hot, and immediate, a collision of need and longing that left her dizzy.
"You're driving me crazy," she murmured against his mouth, a breathless confession.
He chuckled softly, harsh and warm, and kissed her again, rougher this time, teeth brushing briefly, hands tangling in her hair.
She responded with equal intensity, lips and hands moving instinctively, as if they were rediscovering one another all over again. His body pressed into hers, his chest firm, defined, undeniable beneath her fingers, and she couldn't stop the small moan that slipped past her lips.
When he finally broke the kiss, it was only to press another against the side of her mouth, his forehead resting against hers in a shaky, grounding pause. Her breath came in short, uneven gasps. Her hand had slid up his chest, fingertips tracing the strong lines of his collarbone, memorizing the warmth and tension there. He looked at her like she was both fragile and fierce, something precious he wanted to hold but couldn't contain entirely.
She kissed him back, slower this time, but no less intense, letting the rawness of the first kiss give way to a smoother, deeper rhythm. Half in his lap now, the wooden platform creaking beneath them, their lips met in sync, a mixture of desperation and care, a conversation in touch that words could never capture.
Yunho pressed another kiss beneath her jaw, and she let out the faintest breath, gripping him tighter. Her fingers threaded into his damp hair, tugging slightly, inviting him, guiding him, matching his urgent pace with her own. His hands followed her lead, cradling her head, her back, holding her like he was never going to let go.
"You're really not playing fair," she murmured against his mouth, voice thick with laughter and breathlessness.
"I'm not trying to," he whispered, kissing the corner of her mouth again.
Another kiss. Then another.
And still, they couldn't stop. Each touch, each press of lips, each heartbeat seemed to echo through the quiet playground. Breathless, they paused briefly, foreheads together, sharing the warmth of proximity and the heady pulse of what they'd just shared.
"I really like you, Yunho," Bella whispered, voice trembling slightly but steady in truth.
He smiled, not the carefully charming smile he gave everyone else, but the one that belonged only to her. "Well, that's good. Would've made all this kissing pretty awkward otherwise."
Bella laughed softly against his mouth, pressing in for another kiss, slower this time, deliberate, certain, unhurried. She felt herself finally still, anchored in him, in this moment, in their closeness.
Because for the first time in days, she wasn't drifting. She was here. With him.
Neither of them noticed the figure standing just beyond the tree line, half-hidden, silent, eyes unblinking, watching. And then… slipping away before they could see.