The squeak of sneakers filled the gymnasium the moment the final quarter began—sharp, fast, colliding endlessly with the roar of the bleachers until Seorin pressed her fingertips against her temple.

Kang Ara scored again.

A short whistle blew. Applause and cheers burst instantly from the stands.

 Overhead lights flashed across the polished wooden floor, slick with shoe marks and sweat.

From the edge of the court, Seorin watched players crowd around Ara laughing loudly, slapping the shoulders and back of the dark blue jersey already damp around the collar.

Ara tilted her chin slightly in the middle of the crowd, still catching her breath after the last sprint.

As usual.

“Show-off,” Seorin muttered.

Her hands kept moving, collecting basketballs around the players’ bench.

But when Ara’s laughter drifted over the noise of the gym again, her fingers paused on one ball a little too long before finally dropping it into the metal cart.

The last ball landed with a heavy clang.

Seorin pulled the cart off the court without looking back.

The storage-room door scraped open with a rough metallic sound.

Cold air brushed against her face immediately.

Dust, rubber, and damp fabric filled the cramped room, faintly mixed with the lingering scent of the wooden court drifting in from outside.

She shoved the cart forward until its wheels hit the metal shelves at the back wall.

The impact echoed softly.

Seorin had barely straightened when an arm wrapped around her waist from behind.

Her body stiffened.

“What—”

The word died in her throat as she turned around.

Ara stood far too close.

The collar of her dark jersey was still damp with sweat. A faint vanilla scent mixed with the cold air of the storage room, making Seorin’s breath catch for a split second before Ara’s lips brushed briefly against her cheek.

Seorin immediately shoved her shoulder.

“What are you doing?”

Ara barely moved. Her gaze stayed calm, as if Seorin were overreacting.

A few seconds later, Ara let go and walked toward the door.

The metal knob turned slowly until a soft click sounded.

The cheers from the gym became muffled behind the thick walls.

Ara leaned her back against the door.

“Now nobody knows we’re in here.”

Seorin’s fingers tightened against the side of the metal cart.

Ara approached again without hurrying. Her steps were light despite how much taller she was.

Seorin turned her face away first, but she had barely managed half a step before Ara gently pulled her back by the waist until her forehead bumped against Ara’s chest.

“You were jealous earlier.”

Seorin shook her head quickly.

One of Ara’s brows lifted slightly.

“You were obviously jealous.”

Seorin shook her head again.

The next second, Ara’s lips brushed against hers—barely more than a soft touch.

Seorin’s breathing immediately lost rhythm.

 She turned her face slightly away, but Ara’s hand stayed firm at her waist.

“You were jealous,” Ara repeated softly.

This time, Seorin gave a small nod.

Ara’s gaze dropped briefly to her lips before lifting again.

Then Ara kissed her once more.

Seorin’s back touched the cold metal shelf. Without realizing it, her fingers curled into the edge of Ara’s jersey, still warm and faintly damp with sweat.

Outside the storage room, cheers erupted again, muffled behind thick walls and the metal door.

The only thing she could hear clearly was their breathing.

Ara pulled back slightly when hurried footsteps passed outside.

Seorin immediately let go of the jersey she had been clutching.

Her shoulders stayed pressed against the shelf as they both fell silent for a few seconds, listening to the footsteps fade away.

The corner of Ara’s mouth lifted faintly.

“Scared?”

Seorin looked at her before lightly pushing against her chest.

“This is your fault.”

Ara laughed softly. The low sound stayed caught in her throat, nearly swallowed by the noise of the game outside.

Then something fell from the edge of the shelf.

A small metallic clatter bounced across the concrete floor.

They immediately stepped apart.

Seorin turned toward the sound before realizing it was only a spare whistle hanging crookedly from the shelf.

A short laugh slipped from her lips.

Her fingers lifted and brushed Ara’s cheek for only a second—quick and fleeting.

“I still don’t understand why so many people like you.”

Ara watched her for a few seconds.

“You were the one who said ‘I love you’ first.”

“You liked me first.”

“That’s not important.” Ara’s eyes narrowed slightly. “What matters is who confessed first.”

“Kang Ara, you—”

Ara kissed her again.

Brief. Annoying.

Seorin swallowed back a laugh as she pushed lightly against Ara’s chest.

“That’s enough.”

“Afraid we’ll get caught?” Ara asked lightly.

Seorin glanced toward the storage-room door before looking back at her.

Ara was still smiling faintly. Her eyes always softened after she laughed.

Seorin had been noticing that far too often lately.

They stood close enough for Seorin to see the faint reflection of herself in Ara’s eyes.

Slowly, Seorin rested her forehead against Ara’s chest.

The jersey was still warm.

“Sometimes it feels ridiculous that we made it this far.”

Ara said nothing.

Her hand only moved slowly against the small of Seorin’s back, stroking once up and down—a tiny habit almost nobody else ever saw.

Outside the storage room, the referee’s whistle rang out again.

The summer before—

“Popularity doesn’t always equal quality.”

Seorin’s voice stayed even inside the debate club room, already growing stuffy in the late afternoon heat.

The old air conditioner hummed softly in the corner between the rustling of papers and the tapping of pens.

Several club members had already started exchanging looks.

Seorin stood in front of the presentation table with a thin folder in her hand.

Her uniform shirt was still perfectly neat while most of the club members already looked exhausted after hours of practice.

“The ones who last usually aren’t the ones everyone keeps looking at.”

Her opponent fell silent.

Scattered applause rose from several corners of the room.

Seorin lowered the folder without much change in expression.

“Han Seorin.”

Park Dongchul leaned against a desk near the window with his arms folded. His voice stayed calm as always.

“A little gentler.”

Seorin’s jaw loosened slightly.

“If they can’t handle it now,” she said while organizing her papers, “they won’t survive later either.”

Dongchul only shook his head.

From the back row, Han Gyol suddenly lifted his phone into the air.

“You guys have to see this.”

Seorin barely had time to protest before the screen was shoved in front of her face.

A livestream of Woonsung High’s basketball game filled the phone screen.

The deafening roar of the gym immediately flooded the small debate club room through speakers turned up too loud.

“She’s seriously insane.”

Han Gyol zoomed in just as player number seven slipped past two defenders in one clean movement.

Kang Ara.

Her sneakers screeched sharply against the gym floor.

Every movement looked fast and clean, almost effortless. Cheers exploded again the moment the ball dropped through the hoop.

Another win.

“Yeeeeah!”

Han Gyol’s scream made Seorin lean slightly away from the phone.

But her fingers paused over the stack of papers in front of her when the livestream switched to the post-game interview.

Ara’s hair was damp with sweat. The dark jersey clung lightly to her neck and shoulders.

“Kang Ara,” the interviewer said over the noise of the gymnasium, “we heard your training schedule for this game was especially intense. Did it affect your studies? What about your grades?”

Ara paused briefly.

Then the corner of her mouth lifted slightly.

“Who won top student this year?”

Several debate club members immediately burst into cheers at the answer.

Seorin turned her face away from the screen.

Han Gyol laughed loudly. “Her confidence is unbelievable.”

“So noisy,” Seorin muttered, closing her folder a little faster than usual.

But even after the livestream ended, the sharp squeak of basketball shoes still lingered faintly in her head.

***

The library had started emptying out by the time Seorin walked out carrying a stack of books nearly as high as her chest.

“Don’t take so many.”

Dongchul took several books from her arms before she could protest.

“They’re heavy.”

Seorin let him.

They walked down the school hallway now flooded with orange evening sunlight.

Dongchul’s steps were always slow and steady, almost exactly the same every day.

He never talked much. Never rushed.

Until a basketball slammed hard into Dongchul’s back, sending the books in their hands scattering across the floor.

The sound cracked through the hallway.

 “Sorry.”

The voice came together with quick footsteps from the far end of the corridor.

Seorin looked up.

Kang Ara walked toward them, lazily spinning a basketball on one finger.

Her dark blue jersey was still slightly damp, black hair sticking lightly to her forehead with sweat.

Behind her, several basketball team members filled the hallway with noise and laughter far too loud for the empty corridor.

Seorin straightened before Ara even reached them.

“Just because you’re basketball players,” she said flatly, “doesn’t mean you can play anywhere you want.”

Ara stopped.

Her gaze dropped briefly to the books scattered across the floor before lifting back to Seorin’s face.

“Or do you just want attention that badly?”

Dongchul sighed quietly beside her.

Ara stayed calm.

“Not everything has to become a debate.”

Her tone was light. Almost lazy.

Her gaze dropped to the books again.

“Looking for more study material?”

Seorin’s shoulders stiffened slightly.

Ara stepped closer to retrieve the basketball that had rolled near Seorin’s feet.

“And besides…” she said quietly.

She bent slightly toward Seorin.

“You don’t have to admit it. Everyone already knows.”

The medal around her neck swayed lightly as she straightened again.

Seorin’s fingers tightened around the book cover.

“Don’t you think that’s dangerous?” she asked.

“I already apologized.”

“You threw a basketball in the hallway.”

“It was an accident.”

“And they call you a star athlete.”

A few basketball players behind Ara snickered quietly.

But Ara only looked at Seorin for a few seconds longer than necessary.

Then Dongchul stepped between them, picking up the last book from the floor.

“That’s enough,” he said casually. “There’s no point arguing with them.”

Seorin exhaled slowly through her nose.

Even after Dongchul stood in front of her, she could still feel Ara’s gaze lingering for another few seconds.

“What’s going on?”

The new voice instantly made the hallway louder.

Kim Minji walked over while loosely tying back her hair.

Her uniform still looked neat even with a sports bag hanging from her shoulder.

And like always, she stopped right beside Ara.

“Dongchul,” she said with a small smile, “you can’t only train your brain. Muscles matter too.”

A faint heat crept up the back of Seorin’s neck before she could look away.

Dongchul only laughed softly.

“Poor thing,” he said lightly. “Too much weight and they might pass out.”

Minji cupped her cheeks dramatically.

“My brain is tiny.”

She played with the ends of her hair for a second.

“But I have this face.”

Laughter broke out among the basketball team.

Seorin looked at Minji for a few moments before finally shifting her gaze back to Ara.

Ara still stood there casually with the basketball in hand, looking completely unbothered, as if the conversation were nothing more than a small distraction after practice.

Seorin’s fingers tightened around the book cover again.

“We’ll see later,” Ara said, spinning the ball once more, “how the big brains react when they lose to the small ones.”

Seorin’s gaze lifted immediately.

Dongchul touched her arm lightly.

“They’re just wasting your time.”

Seorin took a long breath before finally starting to walk again.

But even after the basketball team’s footsteps disappeared down the corridor, the squeak of sneakers and Ara’s low laughter still lingered faintly behind her.