No Strings Attached

CHAPTER 2: D-0

He was heading somewhere.

Somewhere specific.

Somewhere she'd be eventually.

Because now?

Now he wasn't curious.

He was invested.

He muttered under his breath—first at the cracked phone behind him, then at the memory of her hood casting shadows over her eyes, her words sharp enough to cut glass, her steady voice calling him "transparent" without blinking.

"...adorable."

And this time, he didn't bother denying it—even to himself.

Yerin lay back on her bed, hood pulled low, the room dim except for the soft glow of her phone screen. She reread his message again:

Jaehyun: "How else would I get it? Thought you'd like me to have it."

A ridiculous assumption. An irritating one.
Yet not...surprising.

She typed with her usual precision, fingertips moving neatly across the keyboard:

Yerin: "I doubt many individuals 'like' unauthorized access to their contact information."

She hit send and then set her phone beside her on the blanket.
Her breathing was calm. Her face was calm. Her words were calm.
Her mind, however, was cataloging every possibility, every detail.
He didn't strike her as the type who "asked" for things like phone numbers.
The question wasn't why he took it.
It was how easily he did.

Her phone buzzed again.

Jaehyun: "You don't sound bothered."

She read it once.
Then again.

Not bothered?
She tilted her head.
Emotion wasn't something she handed out for free — of course she didn't sound bothered.

She replied:

Yerin: "Sound is not transmitted through text messages."

A quiet exhale left her — a breath that almost resembled amusement. Almost.
If he wanted reactions, he'd have to work for them.

Another buzz. Immediate this time.

Jaehyun: "Cute."

Cute?
Her brow barely twitched. Barely.

She typed slowly, deliberately:

Yerin: "Inaccurate adjective."

And then she placed her phone on her desk, as if to distance herself from him.
As if that could work.

The room was silent except for the faint hum of the heater.
She pulled her hood further over her head, let her legs curl close, and leaned against the wall beside her bed. She tried to read — tried to distract herself — but her eyes drifted back to the phone more times than she would ever admit.

There was something intrusive about him.
Something that seeped in under the door, through the window, through the silence.
Like even when he wasn't texting, he was there, standing somewhere in the corner of her thoughts with that irritatingly calm stare of his.

Her phone buzzed again.

Jaehyun: "Wait for me."

Her eyes narrowed — not with fear, not even confusion — but with a sort of slow, analytical curiosity.
Wait for him?
For what?
For where?

She didn't reply immediately. She leaned her head back against the wall and let her breathing settle again. The room felt smaller suddenly, tighter, as if every word he sent pressed in on her just slightly.