"After the apology, nothing feels simple anymore."
I didn't answer him.
Even after he said—
"I'm sorry."
The words stayed between us.
Unmoved.
Because I didn't know—
what I was supposed to do with them.
Next day —
The film club room was louder than I expected.
Students were talking in small groups—
some excited, some already arguing about ideas.
I stood near the door for a moment—
not knowing where to go.
Then—
I saw him.
Sihoon was standing near the window, holding a paper.
He looked up.
Our eyes met.
Just for a second.
Then I looked away.
"Alright, everyone," the club leader called out.
"We'll be working in pairs for the first project."
My hand tightened slightly around my notebook.
"Let's see…"
He looked down at the list.
"Choi Jia—Kim Sihoon."
Silence.
Not in the room—
but between us.
"…Of course," someone muttered somewhere behind.
A few people laughed softly.
I walked toward him.
Slowly.
He didn't move.
Just waited.
When I stopped beside him—
neither of us spoke.
"…We should decide a topic," he said finally.
His voice was calm.
Careful.
"…You can choose," I replied.
Too quickly.
He paused.
"…It's a group project."
"I know."
Another silence.
I looked down at the paper in his hand.
But didn't really read it.
"…You used to have ideas," he said quietly.
The words caught me off guard.
"…That was before," I replied.
Before what?
Even I didn't finish that sentence.
He didn't ask.
"…Then we'll just pick something simple," he said.
I nodded.
"…Anything is fine."
That answer again.
Empty.
He exhaled softly.
Not annoyed.
Just…
tired.
"…Jia."
I froze.
"…What?" I asked.
Still not looking at him.
"…If you don't want to work with me—"
"I didn't say that."
I cut him off.
Too fast.
Too sharp.
The words hung there.
For a moment—
neither of us moved.
"…Then stop acting like it," he said quietly.
I looked at him.
Finally.
There was no anger in his eyes.
That made it worse.
"I'm not," I said.
But my voice was softer now.
Less certain.
"…Then talk to me."
Silence.
Because I didn't know how.
Because if I started—
I wouldn't know what to say first.
The apology.
The distance.
The way everything changed.
"…Let's just finish the project," I said quietly.
It wasn't an answer.
But it was all I could give.
He looked at me for a long moment.
"…Okay."
Just one word.
But somehow—
it felt like we had lost something again.
We leaned over the same page.
"…Maybe the opening should be simpler," he said.
His voice was low—
closer than before.
I nodded.
"…Okay."
He shifted a little—
to point at a line.
And suddenly—
he was closer.
Too close.
I could feel it.
Not touching—
but near enough to notice everything.
His sleeve brushed near my arm—
not quite contact.
His shoulder—
almost there.
My heart—
started beating faster.
"…What about this?" he asked.
I tried to read.
But the words didn't stay.
"…It's fine," I said.
My voice sounded normal.
But it wasn't.
I could feel the warmth on my face.
I knew I was blushing.
I turned slightly—
just for a second—
and saw him.
He wasn't looking at the paper anymore.
His gaze shifted away quickly—
like he noticed it too.
The tip of his ears—
were red.
For a moment—
neither of us moved.
"…Wow."
A voice cut through the silence.
We both froze.
Yian leaned back in his chair—
watching us with a grin.
"Should I leave again?" he said casually.
I straightened immediately.
"…What are you talking about?"
Yian raised an eyebrow.
"Nothing," he said.
"But it looks like I keep interrupting something."
"…There's nothing to interrupt," I replied quickly.
"Yeah?" he said, amused.
"Then why are both of you red?"
I froze.
"…We're not."
"Really?" he leaned forward slightly.
"Then should I bring a mirror?"
"…Yian."
Sihoon's voice was calm—
but lower than usual.
"Stop."
Yian laughed.
"Alright, alright—I'll stop."
But the smile didn't leave his face.
And even after that—
the space between us
felt different.
Yian kept smiling like he knew something.
I didn't look at him.
I didn't look at anyone.
"…Let's just finish this," I said, a little too quickly.
I pulled the paper closer to my side.
Creating a small distance.
Sihoon didn't move it back.
"…Okay," he said.
That was all.
We worked in silence.
Not the same silence as before.
This one—
felt more careful.
I kept my eyes on the page.
Focused.
Too focused.
I didn't lean closer again.
Didn't turn.
Didn't risk another moment like that.
"…We can film after school," he said after a while.
"…I have work," I replied.
A pause.
"…Then tomorrow?"
"…I'll see."
Short answers.
Safe answers.
I could feel it—
the way each word built a little more distance.
"…Jia."
I stopped writing.
But I didn't look at him.
"…What?" I asked.
"…If something's wrong—"
"Nothing's wrong."
I cut him off.
Too fast.
Again.
Silence.
"…Okay," he said quietly.
He didn't ask again.
And somehow—
that felt worse.
I stared at the paper.
The words blurred slightly.
Because a part of me—
wanted him to ask again.
But I didn't give him the chance.
When the meeting ended—
I packed my things quickly.
"Hey, wait," Yian said, standing up.
"I'll come with you—"
"I have to go to the shop," I said.
"I have to go to the shop," I said.
Yian looked at me.
"Oh, I was going there too," he said casually.
I paused for a second—
then nodded.
"…Okay."
I reached for my bag.
But before I could lift it—
someone picked it up first.
I froze.
"…I'll carry it."
I looked up.
Sihoon was already holding my bag.
Like it was the most normal thing.
"…I'm coming too," he added.
For a moment—
I didn't know what to say.
Because he had never done something like this before.
"…You don't have to," I said quietly.
"It's fine," he replied.
Simple.
No explanation.
Yian stood there—
watching us.
Then—
a slow smile appeared on his face.
"…I see," he said lightly.
I didn't understand what he meant.
But somehow—
it made my heart feel even more restless.
Because this time—
he didn't just stay.
He stepped closer.