Dae Hyun POV:
Who was she to you? She was your reason to smile. That was what you decided—the more and more you were around her, the more you were captivated. It was like she was the Earth, and you were the moon, constantly in her grasp, unable to leave. But as the end of the year nears, her mind seems preoccupied, like her mind was somewhere else.

When she played Call of Duty with you, she would die within the first few minutes of the match. Usually, she would win. You raised an eyebrow when you asked her.
“What’s up?” was the question you asked her.
“Nothing,” she said as she knifed another player on the game.
“Nothing must be a big deal.” you state as you throw a semtex.
She sighs.
“How do you always know?” she spits.

With your sniper, you shoot someone’s head off. Bullseye. You smirk, not only because you got a good shot, but also because you were able to detect and analyse Yuri’s behavior. She hissed at you, slightly aggravated that you can see right through her.
“Graduation,” she finally says, not explaining any further.

But you already knew. You smile bitterly, pained that she would worry so much about Minwoo. Think about me instead.

“Stop thinking about him.” you order.
“Don’t you think I would’ve if I could?” she snaps. 

Ouch. So Minwoo does have an effect on Yuri. I always thought they were just playing around. In anger, on the game, you throw a dagger in her direction, but purposefully miss her by an inch of her life. Next to you, she shrugs, annoyed that you almost killed your own team mate by ‘accident’. You chuckle softly.

“I can help you forget.” you tell her.
You brush your fingers against her soft, jet black hair and start braiding it. She leans back, slightly confused. She closes her eyes. Maybe she’s tired.
“How can you possibly make me forget?” she questions as you continue.
You continue playing around with her hair. She sighs ever so softly next to you, and with a still expression, tears fall from her eyes.

This is the second time. The second time. Her face is serious, and shows no hint of sadness, but her eyes say otherwise. Tears well up in the corner of her dark, icy eyes, and her hands start shaking. Forget him, look at me. Look at me only. That’s what you wanted to tell her, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to say it. Why couldn’t you?

As she lifts her arm to wipe her tears, you stop her.
“Don’t,” you tell her, gripping tightly to her wrist. “Let yourself cry. Don’t hold it in anymore.”
Her raised hand wraps around your torso. You can feel her shaking. She buries her head in your chest, and your hands wrap around her like a warm blanket. Like a kicked puppy, that’s what she was like. That was how weak she seemed under your arms.

“Look, tomorrow’s a Saturday,” you tell her.
She just sniffs and hiccups. How cute.
“I’ll take you out for ice-cream.” you promise her, raising her chin to make contact with her teary eyes.
“N-ne. (Y-yes.)” she says in between her hiccups.
You pull her into your arms once more, more tightly, and let her go.

“Do you want to sleepover tonight?” you suggest.
She shoves you teasingly.
“How erted of you.” she snaps.
She smirks, and returns back to her normal self. She grabs a pillow and hits you in the face.
“I’d love to sleepover,” she replies with a smile.
She trusted you; that you wouldn’t do anything to her. And she was right for trusting you; because you wouldn’t dare do anything thing to her.