🧺 | Yang Jeongin

No one noticed you like Jeongin did, or so he believed... He saw you every day in the university cafeteria, in his favorite corner, with the same latte and the notebook decorated with dog stickers and underlined phrases. They had been friends since first year, almost unintentionally: a group project, a shared laugh, a "¿can I borrow your notes?" that led to a complicity that seemed unbreakable.

You had fallen in love with him before you even knew it. From the day he lent you his sweater in the rain, from the day he defended you in class when no one else listened, from the days he talked about other people and you pretended to smile while inside you broke a little more, but you never told him anything.

Because Jeongin was like a quiet Sunday: he felt good, comfortable… safe. And you were afraid of ruining everything with an "I like you."

"You're my favorite person, did you know?" he told you one night in the library, with soda and potato chips from the vending machine.

You just nodded, swallowing all the words that wanted to come out. "And you mine," you said, but not with the meaning he thought.

Their final year of university arrived faster than they thought. Between theses, internships, and resumes, they saw each other less. But she was still there, as steadfast as ever. Like a lighthouse that guides, but doesn't navigate. One day, at a university party, Jeongin appeared drunk, with a sadness he didn't usually show. He sat beside her and looked at her, as if it were the first time. "Have you ever felt that someone loved you, but you didn't know how to reciprocate?" You swallowed. You felt your heart tighten, like a choked confession. "Yes," you whispered simply. Jeongin didn't reply, he just rested his head on your shoulder and closed his eyes.*