The two days given to Sihyeon passed by absurdly quickly. He had finished memorizing the choreography, but not mentally prepared himself, leaving him with an uncomfortable expression. Since they had decided to properly match the dance starting from training time, he had no choice but to enter his partner’s training room. With dull, unfocused eyes, Sihyeon stared at the door to Seowoo’s training room.
Let’s just think of him as a stone statue.
Muttering as if hypnotizing himself, Sihyeon reached for the doorknob. Click. The handle turned, and with a heavy sensation, the door opened.
“You’re here?”
The voice came the moment he stepped in. Sihyeon lifted his gaze from the floor and quietly shut the door behind him. The moment he saw the boy in front of him, the dance they had to perform together came to mind. The discomfort swelled inside him.
“…Let’s just match it quickly and be done.”
“I’ll try.”
Seowoo smiled at Sihyeon’s words. Then, casually, he extended his hand as if telling him to take it.
Shall we dance?
It felt like a voice-over echoed somewhere. Frowning, Sihyeon ignored his hand and walked to the bench. After setting down his phone, he looked at him—Seowoo, perceptive as ever, simply smiled and nodded.
Damn it.
Squeezing his eyes shut, Sihyeon pressed play on his phone. As the familiar song filled the training room, he emptied his mind of all thoughts.
***
“You’re… too much.”
After five rounds of practice, Sihyeon sat on the bench during a break and spoke. He drank about half of the water he had brought and set it down, looking at Seowoo, who appeared completely calm.
“What’s too much?”
“The physical contact. I know it’s a couple dance, but still…”
It’s way too blatant.
He swallowed the rest of the sentence, unable to say it outright. Thinking it was obvious enough, he looked at him—Seowoo let out a small laugh and approached.
“I already toned it down because you seemed uncomfortable. Is it still too much?”
“I mean when it does happen.”
They had already agreed beforehand to minimize touching as much as possible, but whenever contact was unavoidable, Seowoo would boldly close the distance as much as he reduced the contact itself. Almost like he had been waiting for it.
And honestly, that made Sihyeon uncomfortable.
“So you’re uncomfortable?”
“Yeah.”
“With me? Or with the physical contact?”
Are you seriously making me choose?
Sihyeon’s brows narrowed.
After dismissing their previous conversation as a joke, his discomfort had lessened, even if the irritation remained. Still, it wasn’t like before that conversation ever happened.
Not wanting to show that he was bothered, he chose the latter. At that, Seowoo hummed softly and reached out toward him.
Flinch.
Without realizing it, Sihyeon leaned his head back. Seowoo’s hand stopped. Just as Sihyeon thought, Oops, the boy spoke.
“…Is this physical contact too?”
“…….”
“Would you have reacted like that if it were your partner?”
“Why are you suddenly bringing up Haru hyung?”
At the mention of a third party, Sihyeon frowned. Seowoo let out a hollow chuckle and leaned his body against a metal dummy. Creak. The dummy tilted slightly under his weight.
Silence fell. Though he was smiling, he somehow looked dissatisfied. Sihyeon rubbed the back of his neck, his blue eyes studying Seowoo uneasily.
What’s his problem now?
He was the one who had been uncomfortable—so why was Seowoo acting like that? Replaying their conversation in his head, Sihyeon arrived at a ridiculous assumption and parted his lips.
No way.
Narrowing his eyes, he cautiously spoke.
“Don’t tell me… you’re jealous? You’re not a kid.”
“…….”
“You’re upset that I’m close with Haru hyung or something?”
He couldn’t imagine someone his age getting jealous over something like that. Still, on the off chance, he said it—and Seowoo, who had been silently staring at him, suddenly burst out laughing. The unexpected laughter filled the training room. It was the first time Sihyeon had seen him laugh this loudly.
Did he finally lose it?
Sihyeon awkwardly fiddled with the water bottle beside him.
Before, at least his smiles had some meaning behind them—but lately, he would drop incomprehensible remarks, reveal vague emotions, then keep everything to himself in silence. He really seemed like a capricious lunatic.
Holding back his words, Sihyeon waited until Seowoo’s laughter subsided. After a moment, Seowoo clasped his own hands together. Sihyeon’s gaze dropped to them. It reminded him of how they would interlock fingers during the dance.
Then came the words that caught him off guard.
“Well… now that you mention it, maybe it is like that.”
“What?”
“That’s exactly how it feels right now.”
You’re serious?
A random guess had somehow been correct. As Sihyeon stood there, flustered by the admission that he was actually jealous, Seowoo continued slowly.
“It feels like a pet I raised with care is only acting cute toward someone else.”
“…….”
What did I just hear? Did he just compare me to something less than human?
So he was jealous—and now suddenly he was talking about pets. Even under Sihyeon’s demanding stare for an explanation, Seowoo said nothing. Frowning, Sihyeon spoke.
“The pet you’re talking about… that’s me, isn’t it?”
“Who else would it be?”
“Are you insane?”
For the first time, his thoughts slipped straight out of his mouth. Sihyeon openly showed his disbelief—it was the first time he had outright called Seowoo crazy to his face. He’d been acting strange the past few days like he’d eaten something weird—apparently, he really had.
Since when was he his pet?
A hollow laugh escaped him.
“Do you not even see people as people?”
At the incredulous remark, Seowoo stared at him. Those platinum eyes quietly held him. Then, as if finally deciding to respond, Seowoo straightened up from the dummy.
“Then what am I to you?”
“Calling it friendship doesn’t make sense—you’re not even interested in me, Sihyeon. I’m the only one paying attention to you, taking care of you, giving you affection… and when you occasionally look my way, I’m just happy with that. If it’s not what I said, then what is this relationship?”
At the continued questioning, Sihyeon fell silent. As he kept his lips tightly shut, Seowoo let out a small laugh, as if he had expected that, and stepped closer. As the distance closed, Sihyeon’s gaze gradually lifted.
“Is it really that strange that I’d feel jealous?”
Yeah.
Sihyeon only answered inwardly.
“No matter what I do, to you I’m just someone somewhat useful. How could I not feel jealous? Unlike the partner you cherish so much, when you deal with me—when you deal with us—you draw a line. Like you’re making sure we never get any closer than this.”
Am I wrong?
He hit the mark.
If someone asked whether Sihyeon had ever thought of Yoo Seowoo as a friend, the answer was clear—never, not even once. More than just a person, less than a friend. A classmate he stayed with out of resignation because he couldn’t resist. One of the Four Heavenly Kings from a web novel—someone getting too entangled with would only make things harder.
No one understood better than Sihyeon himself how he viewed Seowoo.
Those platinum eyes stared straight at him. This time, Seowoo didn’t even bother with his usual smiling expression.
As the one expected to answer remained silent, the quiet stretched on. Sihyeon sank into thought. Taking care of Haru had been natural—Haru was someone he considered his own.
Seowoo, on the other hand, was just—
“Have you ever treated me as a friend, or anything more—even once?”
No.
Faced with the sharp question, Sihyeon swallowed his answer and lowered his gaze. Then, suddenly, he wondered if he was obligated to repay what Seowoo had given him, and lifted his head again. The way he’d been treated bothered him too much to voice his dissatisfaction.
In his raised line of sight, platinum hair—matching those eyes—sparkled unrealistically under the light.
With that, how could he not draw a line?
No matter that he now lived in this world, it was still a web novel. Even if his transmigration had twisted things, the main flow would remain. The story would follow its course, with predetermined endings, predetermined emotional arcs—and surely predetermined events.
And Sihyeon…didn’t want to get entangled in any of that.
The eye of a storm might be calm—but get swept up in its outskirts, and everything around you gets torn apart.
So he kept things at an appropriate distance.
Not getting closer, not becoming more familiar.
For reasons he didn’t understand, Seowoo showed interest in him—but Sihyeon only accepted it halfway and pushed it away halfway, drawing a line as if expecting that someday they’d drift apart.
And now, it felt like those thoughts and actions had been completely seen through.
As Sihyeon avoided answering, Seowoo stepped closer and stopped right in front of him. He began to smile again—but it didn’t feel the same as before.
“Maybe it’s not me—you might be the one treating me like a pet. You look at me only when you feel like it, while I just wait endlessly for you to look at me. Hoping to get a little affection.”
“…I’ve never treated you like that.”
He truly hadn’t. At most, he’d treated him like a lunatic—or just another person by his side. Though he was innocent of the accusation, he couldn’t say it outright, so he held his tongue. Seowoo’s lips curled upward.
“I know. I’m just saying that’s how it feels to me.”
So his treatment really had been that bad.
Keeping quiet, Sihyeon’s eyes shifted slightly. The atmosphere felt a little uncomfortable, and naturally, that conversation from the other day came to mind. It strangely felt like déjà vu.
“So what do you want me to do?”
“You’ll do whatever I say?”
“Don’t push it.”
Give him an inch and he takes a mile. At Sihyeon’s frown, Seowoo chuckled softly and reached out. Instead of avoiding it, Sihyeon stared straight at him. As if by habit, Seowoo brushed back a strand of hair that hadn’t even fallen, tucking it behind Sihyeon’s ear. His eyes curved into a smile.
“What do you think I want?”
“Attention.”
The answer was obvious the moment jealousy came up, so Sihyeon replied without hesitation. Seowoo fell silent. Tilting his head slightly, Sihyeon added—
“Am I wrong?”
“…If we’re being precise, that’s not wrong.”
He admitted it slowly. Sihyeon looked at him.
In short, what he meant was this: Even if not as much as I give you, pay some attention to me.
Having reached that conclusion, Sihyeon let out a low hum. It was understandable that Seowoo felt upset—he had been treating someone clearly alive as if he barely existed. But the rest of it, he couldn’t understand. Since it all circled back to their previous conversation again, his brows furrowed—when suddenly, Seowoo’s hand brushed against his cheek.
“What now?”
“Nothing.”
“…?”
At Sihyeon’s questioning frown, Seowoo smiled like a painting.
“Before, I would’ve just waited endlessly. But now I see that doesn’t work on you.”
So from now on, I’m going to turn things around a bit.
His tone was gentle, almost sing-song. As he finished speaking, the bell rang. Lowering his hand, Seowoo turned toward the door, then glanced back at Sihyeon with a smile.
“It’s our first time syncing, but our timing wasn’t bad. We can practice together from first period tomorrow—so I’m looking forward to it.”
With the ringing bell, the atmosphere shifted completely. As if the conversation from moments ago had never happened.
But this time, it didn’t feel like a joke.
Sensing that instinctively, Sihyeon looked at Seowoo, who was casually suggesting they go eat. His blue eyes were filled with confusion.
So what exactly are you planning to do now?
As the question lingered, Seowoo stood by the door, smiling as usual.
For some reason, to Sihyeon, that open door looked like the fastest path straight into suffering.
