somewhere between almost and always [so junghwan treasure completed]

Chapter 11: The Ripple Effect

The morning after their quiet confession, Ji-eun felt like she was walking through a dream. The hallway buzzed with the usual chaos—chatter, laughter, locker doors slamming—but to her, everything felt muted. Like she was floating somewhere between reality and the soft warmth of possibility. She hadn't been able to stop thinking about Junghwan's words from the night before: "I want to try, with you."

It wasn't a grand declaration. There were no fireworks, no dramatic music playing in the background. But it was him, in his quiet, hesitant way, trying. And that meant more than anything flashy ever could.

She spotted him by the vending machine during the break between classes. He was sipping something from a juice box, head tilted slightly as he stared at the list of snacks. For a moment, Ji-eun just watched him from afar. The casualness of it, the simplicity of who he was—cool without trying, closed off but observant, and somehow always one step away from being vulnerable.

He glanced over and caught her staring.

For a split second, panic bubbled in her chest, but then he smiled. That small, almost shy smile that she was slowly learning to read.

Ji-eun walked over.

"Morning," she greeted, trying to act like her heart wasn't on the verge of leaping out of her chest.

"Morning," he replied, taking another sip from the juice box and then gesturing to it. "Apple. Want a sip?"

"Are we sharing juice boxes now?" she teased, raising an eyebrow.

Junghwan gave a half-smile. "Guess we're sharing everything now."

Her heart stuttered.

They stood in silence for a moment, not awkward this time—just... quiet. Comfortable.

"I'll see you after class?" he asked.

Ji-eun nodded, not trusting her voice to sound normal.

He left, shoulders relaxed, and Ji-eun stared after him, trying to hide the stupid grin spreading across her face. This is happening, she thought. He's trying.

But of course, life wasn't a straight path. The universe had a habit of shaking things up the moment you got a little too comfortable.

By lunchtime, the ripple effect of their "something" had already started to spread.

Soo-ah was the first to pounce.

"You and Junghwan?" she asked, practically dragging Ji-eun to the empty stairwell behind the gym. "Since when?"

Ji-eun leaned against the wall, sighing. "Since... yesterday?"

"You've got to give me more than that," Soo-ah pressed, eyes wide with curiosity. "You've been into him for months, Ji. You're telling me he just suddenly decided he's into you too?"

"It wasn't sudden. It was just... slow." Ji-eun ran her fingers through her hair. "You know how he is. He's cautious."

Soo-ah stared at her. "Okay, fine. I'll admit it. I'm surprised. But also... happy for you. I think."

Ji-eun raised an eyebrow. "Think?"

"It's just..." Soo-ah hesitated, biting her lip. "I don't want you to get hurt, Ji. Junghwan's not exactly known for being the most emotionally available guy. If he ghosts or panics and pulls back, you're going to be the one left waiting."

"I know." Ji-eun smiled faintly. "But he's trying. And that's enough right now."

Meanwhile, Junghwan was having a very different kind of conversation.

Seungmin plopped down next to him at the lunch table, setting down a tray with enough snacks for a small army.

"You and Ji-eun, huh?" he said with a smirk.

Junghwan didn't look up. "Not a big deal."

"Oh, so it's not a big deal that the emotionally constipated Junghwan finally acknowledged feelings? I should call the news."

Junghwan rolled his eyes, but a faint pink touched his ears.

Seungmin leaned in. "Look, I'm not going to tease you too hard. Just... be straight with her, alright? Don't do the whole 'ignore them because I'm scared of feelings' thing. Ji-eun's cool. She doesn't deserve hot-and-cold nonsense."

Junghwan's jaw tightened. "I know."

"You like her?"

Junghwan was quiet for a beat. "Yeah."

"Then make sure she knows that too."

Later that afternoon, things finally came to a head when Minseo, the quiet girl from their science class who had always had a not-so-subtle crush on Junghwan, cornered Ji-eun outside the library.

It was civil at first. Awkward, but polite.

"I heard you and Junghwan are... close now," Minseo said, hugging a book to her chest.

Ji-eun blinked, caught off guard. "Um, yeah. Kind of."

Minseo nodded slowly, then bit her lip. "I just... I thought maybe you should know. He used to walk me home sometimes. A few months ago."

Ji-eun tilted her head, not quite sure what the point was.

"He stopped after a while," Minseo continued. "Said he was busy. But I always thought he liked me, you know? Until he didn't."

There was no hostility in her voice, but Ji-eun could feel the underlying emotion—disappointment, maybe even jealousy.

"I'm not saying he's a bad guy," Minseo added. "Just be careful. He confuses people."

Ji-eun nodded, trying to keep her expression neutral. "Thanks. I'll keep that in mind."

Minseo walked away, and Ji-eun was left with an uneasy feeling gnawing at her chest.

She found Junghwan later that evening by the bike racks, hands in his pockets, hoodie pulled over his head despite the spring warmth.

"You used to walk Minseo home?" she asked bluntly.

He looked up, surprised. "What?"

"She told me. Today. Outside the library."

Junghwan ran a hand through his hair, sighing. "Yeah. I did. A few times. She seemed lonely. I didn't think it was a big deal."

"Did she think it was a big deal?" Ji-eun asked, voice quiet.

He looked guilty, and that was answer enough.

"I'm not mad," Ji-eun said, crossing her arms. "I just... I need to know that you're not doing the same thing to me. That this isn't something you're just going to walk away from when it gets uncomfortable."

"I'm not," Junghwan said, stepping closer. "That's not what this is. I'm not walking away."

His eyes searched hers, and Ji-eun wanted to believe him. She almost did.

"You're really going to try?" she whispered.

He nodded once. "Yeah. I am."

And this time, when he reached out and took her hand—awkwardly, gently—he didn't pull away.

They stood like that, fingers laced, uncertainty still between them, but something else too.

Hope.