Scene 3

Comeback

Episode 4: The Breakthrough

It had been another two weeks since that painful moment when Gwangshuk had asked for Hongshu’s help with Shinha. Despite the hurt that lingered in her heart, Hongshu found herself agreeing to help, hoping that maybe, just maybe, the act of being close to him would ease some of the aching loneliness that seemed to follow her wherever she went.

The truth was, helping Shinha understand basketball had given Hongshu a sense of purpose. It wasn’t a perfect distraction, but it was something. She spent hours going over the rules, teaching her the strategies, even rehearsing plays with her in the school gym after hours. Shinha was grateful, her excitement palpable as she began to grasp the game’s complexity.

But through it all, Hongshu remained in the background, still invisible in Gwangshuk’s eyes. He was always kind to her, but his attention was never on her, not the way it was with Shinha. It was painful, but the sadness had started to numb, replaced by a quiet acceptance.

That day, as they were finishing up another long session in the gym, Shinha was particularly happy. She had finally understood a play, and her smile was infectious. Gwangshuk was there too, of course, leaning against the wall, watching as they practiced.

“You’re really good at this,” Shinha said to Hongshu, her voice full of genuine admiration. “I don’t think I would’ve gotten it without your help.”

Hongshu smiled, though it didn’t reach her eyes. “It’s nothing. You’re picking it up quickly.”

Gwangshuk looked at her, a rare moment where his gaze seemed to linger. “Hongshu… thanks. For helping us both. It really means a lot.”

There was sincerity in his voice, and for the briefest of moments, Hongshu felt like she mattered. But then Shinha bounced over to them, her energy shifting the focus back to her.

“We should grab dinner after this, all three of us! I know this amazing place that serves the best spicy ramen.”

Hongshu nodded, her heart sinking. It would be another night spent in the background. Another night pretending that everything was fine, when in reality, she was slowly crumbling inside.

As they made their way to the restaurant, Hongshu walked a step behind them, her mind far away. She couldn’t shake the feeling that this wasn’t just a one-sided love story. It was more than that. It was a story of acceptance, of understanding her place in the world, even if that place wasn’t where her heart wanted to be.

Comeback

Episode 5: The Realization

The following week, Gwangshuk’s behavior began to shift. At first, Hongshu didn’t notice it, but then it started to become clear. He was calling her more often, asking for help with small things—homework, studying for tests, even advice on what to wear for a school event. It was strange, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. It felt like he was trying to connect with her in ways that went beyond basketball or Shinha.

One afternoon, Gwangshuk asked Hongshu to meet him in the school library. He’d mentioned that he needed her help with organizing some papers for a project, and she had agreed without thinking much of it.

When she arrived, she found him sitting at a table, looking a little nervous. He waved when he saw her. “Hey, Hongshu. Thanks for coming.”

“No problem,” she said, trying to sound casual, but her heart was pounding. She couldn’t help but wonder if this meeting had anything to do with Shinha. But when Gwangshuk started talking, it became clear that it was about something else.

“I’ve been thinking a lot lately,” he began, avoiding her gaze as he shuffled through some papers. “About… everything, really. About you, and Shinha, and how I’ve been handling things.”

Hongshu felt her pulse quicken. “What do you mean?” she asked, though her voice betrayed the tension she was feeling.

“I don’t know… It’s just that, ever since I told Shinha how I felt, I realized I’ve been kind of ignoring you. You’ve been there for me, always. You’ve helped me, supported me, and I guess I never really showed you how much I appreciated it.” He met her eyes then, and there was something in his gaze that she hadn’t seen before—something uncertain, maybe even guilty. “I didn’t mean to make you feel left out.”

Hongshu’s breath caught in her throat. This was more than she had expected. He was apologizing, acknowledging her in a way that felt almost too much to bear. And yet, despite the sincerity in his words, her heart ached. Was this his way of apologizing for loving Shinha? Did he truly care for her, or was he simply trying to ease his own guilt?

“I… I didn’t feel left out,” Hongshu said softly, forcing the words out. “I’m just glad to be here for you. That’s enough for me.”

Gwangshuk looked at her with a mix of confusion and frustration, as though he were trying to figure something out. “But it’s not enough, is it? Not for you. I know I’ve been selfish, Hongshu. I’ve been so caught up in my own feelings for Shinha that I didn’t see what was right in front of me. What you’ve been doing for me…”

Hongshu’s chest tightened. “It’s fine, Gwangshuk. Really.”

But he wasn’t done. He stood up and walked toward her, closing the distance between them. “No, it’s not. I owe you more than that. I owe you the truth. And the truth is… I don’t know where I stand with you anymore.”

Hongshu’s heart stopped for a moment. “What do you mean?”

“I mean,” he hesitated, his voice faltering slightly, “I’ve been so focused on Shinha that I didn’t realize how much you mean to me, too. You’ve been here for me in ways I didn’t even see until now.”

Hongshu looked away, her vision blurred. “Gwangshuk, I—”

“I’m not asking you for anything. I just…” He trailed off, his voice softer now. “I need you to know that I do care about you. Maybe in a way that’s different than what you want from me, but it’s real. You’re important to me, Hongshu.”

The words hung in the air between them, and for a moment, everything seemed to stop. Hongshu didn’t know how to respond. Was this his way of acknowledging their friendship? Or was it more? Was there a chance—however small—that he could love her, the way she had always loved him?

But in her heart, she knew the truth. It wasn’t love. Not in the way she wanted it. It was gratitude. It was guilt. And no matter how hard she tried, it would never be enough to fill the hole inside her.

“Thanks, Gwangshuk,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “But I think… I think you should focus on Shinha. She’s the one you really care about.”

And with that, she turned and walked away, leaving Gwangshuk standing there, staring after her, still unsure of what he had said or how to fix what had always been broken.

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