SPARKS TO FLAMES | SOONHOON FF ??

The days dragged on like a bad sitcom with too many reruns. School was the same, but the absence of Soonyoung was like that annoying fly buzzing around your ear that you just can't swat away. The group tried to adjust, but even their best attempts to move on always seemed to lead to Soonyoung-shaped holes in their conversations.

"Remember when Soonyoung fell into the pond at the park?" Seokmin would say, his eyes twinkling with nostalgia.

Seungkwan would roll his eyes but grin. "Yeah, he blamed the frog for 'pushing him'... I swear, that frog is still suing for defamation."

Even Jeonghan, who usually had a knack for making everything sound vaguely philosophical, would occasionally bring up Soonyoung during lunch breaks. "He was incredibly annoying, but honestly, he kept things... interesting. Like a circus, but with more glitter."

Everyone laughed, but it always felt like something was missing-except for Jihoon, who didn't laugh at all.

For Jihoon, the absence of Soonyoung wasn't something he could laugh off. He wasn't going to pretend like it didn't bother him-because, well, it bothered him a lot.

The first week was pure heartache.

The second week, he started feeling a little angry.

By the third week, Jihoon had officially upgraded his feelings to full-blown resentment.

"Soonyoung doesn't deserve to be talked about all the time," Jihoon snapped one afternoon, his voice sounding suspiciously like a grumpy cat who had just been forced into a bath. "He left. Didn't even bother to say goodbye, so why should we care now?"

The table went silent faster than you could say "awkward," and even Seungkwan froze mid-bite. It was like someone hit the pause button on a sitcom. Jihoon never really shouted-he was more of the sarcastic, eye-roll type-so this was new territory.

"Jihoon..." Seokmin started gently, his voice the calm before the inevitable storm, but Jihoon waved him off like he was a fly trying to land on his sandwich.

"I don't want to hear his name anymore," Jihoon muttered, stabbing his chopsticks into his rice with an intensity that was almost impressive.

Despite his tough talk, Jihoon couldn't completely block out the emptiness Soonyoung left behind. It was like trying to ignore a song that was stuck in your head, no matter how hard you tried. Every corner of his life seemed to be haunted by memories of Soonyoung. The park where they used to cause chaos, the classroom they had shared with way too many inside jokes, and even the space between their houses that now seemed like an uncomfortably wide gap.

At night, Jihoon would find himself staring at the fence that once connected their two homes. The fence that had been the perfect metaphor for their friendship-sometimes a little too high to climb, but worth it anyway. His mind was full of unasked questions, like a list of things he'd never get answers to. Why didn't Soonyoung say goodbye? Did he just forget?

Instead of moping around like a sad, dramatic protagonist in a teen movie, Jihoon buried it all. He took the ache and wrapped it up in layers of angry, sarcastic self-talk. It was way easier to stay mad than to admit how much he missed his friend.

Slowly, the group started mentioning Soonyoung less and less, sensing Jihoon's extremely subtle discomfort. Life moved on, the seasons changed, and they fell into new routines. But for Jihoon, the anger was like a persistent, unwanted guest. Every time someone brought up Soonyoung, it was like his stomach did an involuntary backflip. He told himself it was better this way-that holding onto this bitter grudge was easier than missing someone who had apparently just vanished into thin air.

And yet, when no one was around to judge him, Jihoon would find himself thinking about Soonyoung. It would happen when he was doing something as trivial as washing his hands or rearranging his desk. The memory would sneak up on him-Soonyoung's wild laughter, his chaotic energy, the way he could always make Jihoon forget he was in a bad mood with just one well-timed joke.

Jihoon would shake his head, trying to push the thoughts away. "It doesn't matter anymore," he'd mutter under his breath, like it was a magic incantation that could make all the feelings disappear.

But deep down, Jihoon knew the truth. No amount of sarcastic comments or angry rants would ever fill the Soonyoung-shaped void in his life.

And if he were being honest, he didn't want it to.