Terrence's question landed like a stone in Ben's chest.
He stammered, breath caught. "What? I—"
"Don't play dumb, Ben."
Ben closed his mouth, looking down. Silence stretched between them.
When he got no answer, Terrence asked flatly, "Did you fall for Daniel hyung?"
Ben nearly fell off his chair. His wide eyes met Terrence's cool gaze, panic rising in his throat. "W-What–? No! That's–"
Terrence smirked. "I'll take that as a yes."
Ben clamped his mouth shut, his heart hammering against his ribs.
Terrence sighed heavily, running a hand through his hair. "I should have known. I even warned you not to get entangled with him."
Ben exhaled shakily. His fingers curled against his knee.
How did Terrence even know? That wasn't a guess people made lightly. Terrence was observant, sure, but this wasn't just observation. He hadn't hesitated. He'd gone straight for the truth, like someone who'd recognized the signs.
An unwelcome but persistent thought crept in.
Unless… he'd been there before.
Ben swallowed. "Did you also…?"
Terrence's fingers stilled against his cup. For just a second, something unreadable flickered in his gaze before he smirked. "That's how I knew."
Ben looked at him carefully. "You gave up, didn't you?"
Terrence leaned back. "I never confessed."
"Did it hurt?"
Terrence shrugged. "It was a small-time crush. It passed. Now, hyung's more like family."
Ben scoffed. "That sounds scandalous."
A brief silence fell before Terrence said, "You will fall again, Ben."
Ben clenched his jaw. "But hyung, he–"
"His eyes are stuck on his dreams." Terrence's voice was calm, but there was an underlying finality to it. "He won't look to the sides. Not yet."
Not yet, but possibly never.
Ben swallowed. An ache twisted in his chest. He looked down at his coffee cup, fingers curling around the warmth like it might anchor him.
Quietly, he asked, "H-How did you get over him?"
Terrence didn't hesitate. His voice came cool and clipped. "I didn't."
Ben blinked. "Huh?"
Terrence sighed, taking a slow sip of his coffee. "You don't just forget. You carry it, and you keep moving. One day, you meet someone else, and it starts hurting less."
Ben looked down again. The words settled in his bones like a truth he'd been avoiding.
Ben swallowed hard, forcing himself to nod. "You're strong."
Terrence shook his head. "I'm rational."
Ben hesitated again. "…Why did you fall for him?"
A small, almost fond chuckle escaped Terrence. "How can anyone not love that idiot? He's infuriatingly kind. Even when he's a mess, he still finds ways to care for people."
Ben smiled faintly. He had never seen this side of Terrence before. It felt odd, like a wall between them had cracked open, even if just a little.
Terrence, of course, ruined the moment with expert timing.
"Feel honored. I get sentimental once a decade."
Ben rolled his eyes, but the pressure in his chest began to ease. He was still hurting, but he wasn't drowning anymore.
Terrence stood to leave and glanced back. "See you at the competition."
And just like that, a tiresome day ended.
***
Ben was not one to believe in omens, but he was now sure that the Universe had some very personal grudge against him.
It started innocently enough that morning. He entered class to find a neat pack of custard bread, his favorite, sitting neatly on his desk. And before he could even blink, the jabs began.
"Ooooh, Bennie's got a secret admirer," Ji-an, one of the classmates, crooned.
"Is this how the pretty ones get treated? Damn, I chose the wrong face."
Ben blinked at the treat in question, deeply confused. He looked around suspiciously, half-expecting it to be poisoned or maybe a social experiment. But it was sealed, fresh, and smelled delicious. So, like any emotionally compromised teen with low blood sugar, he caved and kept it.
Still chewing on the last bite of betrayal, Ben decided to distract himself with productivity. He began checking in with his classmates to collect the surveys for Professor Song.
"Minho-ya," he said, nudging the guy sitting in front of him, "did you finish the survey from yesterday?"
Minho looked up and let out a boisterous laugh. "Looks like you got your beauty sleep! Here you go, oh, and this too." He slid a chocolate drink across the desk.
Ben blinked, catching the drink. "Why are you giving me treats for helping with my own work?"
The guy chuckled. "That's not from me. Looks like you've got an admirer."
Ben's heart stuttered in his chest.
Wait, what? An admirer? Was this their way of confessing? Was someone… actually into him? He had no idea how to process that. His emotional bandwidth was already fried. And now this?
By the time he had collected all the surveys, Ben was out in the hallway, caffeinated, and mildly panicked. But the stack in his arms pleased him. He'd gathered twenty-one responses, well over the required fifteen. That meant more data, more perspectives, and the smug satisfaction of outdoing the assignment. Professor Song would love that.
Feeling cautiously optimistic, he opened his locker. And there he found a keyring hanging from the hook: a hamster with giant, sparkly eyes. It even had a tiny hoodie.
Ben stared. He quickly checked the locker number, just to be sure.
Yep. Definitely his.
"What the hell is going on?" he muttered, cradling the keyring like it might explode.
But it didn't end there.
Someone sent him lunch, his favorite spicy pork rice bowl with just the right amount of sesame seeds. He hadn't even ordered it!! It had just appeared with his name scribbled on the lid and a small smiley face.
Then there was that single, ridiculous, rom-com-level rose nestled into his bookbag.
A ROSE??!!
What was this? A high-budget drama? A prank? Was he suddenly the protagonist in someone's ridiculous campus romance plotline?
"Oh, to be born with a symmetrical face," someone muttered behind him as he walked past, rose in hand, and a burning hole of dread in his chest.
Another student whispered, "If I got treats like that, I'd stop complaining about capitalism."
Someone else snorted. "Isn't he just pretending to be humble?"
Ben turned slowly, visibly done. "I have no idea what's happening."
It all clicked when he found a note stuffed in his Microeconomics book. It wasn't signed. But it had a doodle of someone Daniel-like doing finger hearts.
That insufferable idiot.
Huffing, cheeks burning, and emotions thoroughly fried, he stormed into the dance studio. If he had to suffer, at least he'd suffer in motion.
Inside, to his eternal non-surprise, were Daniel… and Sean.