There was something comforting about him—his emotions worn openly, his joy unfiltered. With Thomas, everything felt simple and warm. No second guessing. No hidden meanings.
Just a boy who really, really loved walking. And for tonight… I was okay with that.
“Ah,” I whispered, gazing upward. “The moon is lovely tonight.”
Thomas walked beside me, his pace unhurried, eyes calm beneath the night sky.
“I came from a small town,” he said with a soft smile, “so I always enjoyed the fresh air back then. That’s something I’ve always liked about the countryside.”
I nodded, breathing in the cool, clean air. “Right. It’s pretty quiet and serene once you get out of the city.”
“Yup,” he said. “So when I get older, I want to live in the countryside. I’ll get a big house to live in with the love of my life. We’ll have a big dog… and even wear matching outfits. Something comfortable, like matching sweatshirts or checkered pajamas…!”
He chuckled, lost in the thought, his eyes sparkling in a way that reminded me of fireflies.
Thomas, dreaming aloud about a peaceful, love-filled future, looked happier than I’d ever seen him.
Then he turned to me. “Do you have those as well? Your future plans and such?”
I paused. “Hmm, I’m not sure yet,” I admitted. “I’ve always lived in cities, so I never thought of going out to the countryside. My grandmother used to live in a small town. It always turned dark after five, and there wasn’t much to do. I was a little bored back then…”
“Oh, but my hometown isn’t that reserved!” he quickly added, waving his hands. “We’ve got a convenience store, and some really good cafés! I guess you could say… it’s a small town that’s not completely rural!”
I laughed.
“W-why’re you laughing?” he asked, clearly flustered. “Did I say something wrong?”
“No,” I shook my head, still smiling. “It’s just… you look really happy when you talk about things like this.”
“Of course I am happy,” he said brightly, “thinking about the future I’ll have with the person I love…”
He looked straight ahead, eyes full of that gentle, youthful warmth. He’s so hopelessly romantic. He was only two years older than me. I’d dated older guys before—ones who were experienced, smooth, and composed. The kind of men who calculated each move, who didn’t waste time with dreamy talk about big dogs and matching sweaters.
They never argued, never confessed anything that didn’t feel rehearsed. Everything—even the breakups—had been predictable.
I was realistic, I thought. And they were measured. But Thomas…He spoke with unguarded honesty, with a kind of pure hope that was impossible to fake. It had been so long since I met a man who talked about love and the future with such wide-eyed wonder.
And maybe that’s why I didn’t mind the way he flattered me.
Being innocent is good, I thought. An inexperienced, pure kind of love tends to bring hope… the belief that it’ll all work out.
Had any guy around my age ever liked me this innocently? Or maybe…
Maybe I’m just not someone worthy of that kind of love.
When you look at something pure, something so earnest—it makes you stop. Makes you reflect. Makes you wonder what you’ve lost along the way.
Relationships are hard…
“...Mia.”
His voice pulled me gently from my thoughts.
“Yes?” I turned to him, surprised at the softness in his tone.
“Are you okay?” Thomas asked gently, his voice full of concern. “You don’t seem so well. If you’re having a headache or anything… shall we go back? I’m worried.”
“N-no, it’s fine,” I said quickly, brushing off the weight in my chest. “I just had something… to think about.”
There was a pause, quiet except for the wind threading through the trees.
“…Do you have a worry?” he asked hesitantly.
I glanced up at the night sky. “Hmm… It’s not really a worry. I just thought… relationships can be pretty challenging, you know?”
As the words left my mouth, a small shadow passed across Thomas’s face, like clouds drifting in front of the moon.
“…Mia,” he began, voice suddenly lower, more tentative. “Excuse me if this is too personal, but… may I ask—? I’m sorry if I’m making you uncomfortable, mmm…”
“Go on,” I said, curious. “What is it?”
He hesitated, then:
“...Do you have a boyfriend?”
I looked at him, surprised by the suddenness of the question. “No.”
If I could hear the inside of his head, I was sure it was shouting Yesssss with a fireworks display.
His face lit up just barely, then tried to compose itself.
“Ah, I was almost certain that—umm,” he stumbled. “See, you’re really charming, and nice, and funny, and… pretty. So, uh, I assumed that you must have a boyfriend.”
I laughed. “Same goes for you, Thomas. You’re handsome, nice, and funny as well.”
He froze.
“Uh… Huh…?” His voice broke. “M-my heart aches…”
Alarmed, I stepped closer. “Are you all right?!”
He clutched his chest dramatically. “No… It’s just—It’s my first time hearing such a compliment—I am so happy.”
I laughed—really laughed this time, the sound bubbling up from somewhere unguarded. “Hahaha…”
The cool air wrapped around us like a soft blanket, but his presence made the night warmer.
“Anyway,” I added, voice a little softer now, “it’s been a while since I had a boyfriend. I’ve been busy trying to get a job, so I haven’t been able to hang out with my friends much.”
“Oh…” he said, eyes searching mine. “So you don’t have anyone in mind right now?”
I hesitated, then answered honestly. “Umm… My friends did set me up on blind dates, but I couldn’t find anyone I liked.”
“Y-you went on a blind date?!” he gasped.
His expression crumpled into a look of complete despair, and I couldn’t help but blush. His honesty was overwhelming—but in a way that made my chest flutter.
It’s been so long since I felt like this.
I was too used to hearing dull, mechanical I-like-yous. Words that didn’t move me. But Thomas—he wasn’t just “I like you.” He was more like: I like you so much I might explode.
And honestly… that surprised me.
I looked away, cheeks pink.
“Hmph, hmph…”
Calm down, Mia. Office romance is prohibited. I must not show any interest. I can’t lose myself here. Get to your senses, Mia!
“Ah… yes,” I said quickly, forcing a casual tone. “I occasionally go on blind dates, from time to time. Some of them are hard to turn down.”
Thomas nodded. “Yeah, there are some that are hard to reject.”
The shift in his face was subtle—but undeniable.
It hit me like a pang of guilt. Like that one time, back in school, when I accidentally broke my best friend’s puppy’s favorite toy. I remembered the way that puppy looked at me—confused, heartbroken, betrayed.
That’s the face Thomas has right now.
“Then…” he began, voice quieter now, “do you like blind dates, Mia?”
I hesitated. “…I don’t hate it.”
“I see.” His eyes lowered. “I prefer to date someone I already know. To be honest, I’m not really good at blind dates.”
“Huh? Why not?”
“I get overly excited about it,” he admitted, cheeks flushing a little. “So I tend to mess up my words and say the most random things. It was never successful.”
He scratched the back of his head, eyes fixed on the ground.
“To be honest… I’m very worried nowadays.”
I tilted my head. “About what?”
He took a breath, then said it without hesitation—without a filter.
“I want to have a girlfriend. I want to get married. I want to marry a girl that I love and make her happy.”
The air stilled for a moment. His voice hadn’t wavered. It wasn’t a rehearsed line.
It was raw. Honest.
And it hit me hard.
Wow…
His words weren’t sugar-coated. They weren’t meant to charm. They were just… real.
“You’ll do it,” I said before I could stop myself. “I’m sure you can do that.”
Oops.
I shouldn’t cheer him on like that.
Get a grip, Mia!
His eyes lit up faintly. “You think so? Thanks. And… someday, the girl that I like will notice me as well, right?”
“Ah… haha…” I laughed nervously. “Yeah. Hahaha…”
Oh no.I’ve added fuel to the fire.
He smiled wistfully, almost unaware of the storm he was stirring in my chest.
“Anyways,” he continued, “I just wish it would happen. But maybe… I’m just not skilled at love. Most of the time, it never worked out for me.”
I didn’t know what to say. I only watched him, this sincere boy with hopes bigger than his confidence.
“And… the houses nowadays are really expensive,” he added, glancing up at the stars. “I want to live in a good house and have a good life with the girl I love. But I don’t know if it’ll be possible with what I have. And even if I did find that girl… would she even come to like me back?”
He sighed, voice tinged with the kind of worry most people hide behind a smile.
“It’s just complicated.”
I opened my mouth. “Uh, well—”
I must not comfort him... I must not…
My mind screamed boundaries, logic, professionalism.
There’s a 99% chance I’m the girl he likes… I shouldn’t encourage this.
This… us.
And yet, the words slipped out before I could stop them.
“Someday,” I said softly, “the girl will come to like you too.”
Because… how can I hurt someone who’s this innocent?
I looked at him—his wide, honest eyes, his open heart—and all my rational intentions withered. I wanted to act smart. Detached. But every time I was with him, I said things with my heart first.
His cheeks reddened.
“…Thank you,” he murmured, voice caught between a whisper and a sigh.
Thomas looked down at the dirt path, then back at me. “Mia?”
“Yes?” I answered, my voice quieter now.
“What’s your ideal type of guy?”
The question was so direct it caught me off guard.
“My ideal type?” I echoed, pretending to think. “Hmm. Someone who ties my shoelaces?”
He blinked. “Someone who ties your… shoelaces?”
I laughed, a touch embarrassed by my own answer. “Yes. Back in high school, when I was wearing a skirt, there was this senior who noticed my laces had come undone. He crouched down without a word and tied them for me. My heart fluttered. Since then, I guess a guy who does that has always stayed in my mind as my ‘type.’”
Thomas nodded slowly. “I see…”
The moment stretched, delicate like glass between us.
“But,” I added, pulling my arms tighter around myself, “to be honest, everyone likes someone who’s handsome and wealthy.”
He gave a faint chuckle. “Yeah…”
Then, a small pause—long enough to feel like a hesitation.
“…Oh. Look at the time,” he said, suddenly glancing at his watch.
“Right…” I looked up too, noticing the cold now settling in my skin. “It’s getting chilly.”
“Are you feeling cold?” he asked immediately.
“I’ll be okay once I get inside,” I said, offering a small smile.
Thomas looked thoughtful. “Hmmm…”
What is he thinking?
Thomas had gone quiet again, eyes distant. He wasn’t frowning or smiling—just… lost in thought.
And something about that unsettled me.
Why does seeing him like this make me uncomfortable?
“I’m warm now,” I murmured to myself as I stepped into my tent, flicking on the heater. A gentle wave of warmth spread through the space, loosening the tightness in my shoulders.
I sat down and pulled open my bag.
“I need to wipe off my makeup before I go to sleep…” I mumbled, digging through the pockets. “Where did I put my cleansing tissue…?”
Then came a familiar voice from just outside the tent flap.
“Hello? Mia, it’s me.”
“Huh?” I turned toward the sound.
It had only been five minutes since we parted ways on the trail. Five minutes.
I stood up and unzipped the entrance flap, peeking out.
“What happened?” I asked.
Thomas stood there, slightly out of breath, holding something in his hands.
“Earlier, you said you were feeling cold,” he said, not quite meeting my eyes.
“Oh, I’m okay now—really.”
But then he gently held something out to me.
“I bought one for you, too,” he said. “When I went to the store to grab one for myself.”
I took the warm can from his hand, fingers brushing briefly.
“Thank you…” I said, surprised. “Wow, it’s still warm. Where did you get it from?”
“There was a convenience store near the entrance,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “I was actually going to buy coffee for you, but I thought it might keep you up. So I chose this instead. Do you… like milk tea?”
I smiled. “Yup. I do.”
His shoulders dropped with relief.
“Thank goodness,” he exhaled. “I was worried you might not like it.”
My face flushed. I turned my head quickly, trying to hide the heat rising to my cheeks. No. Don’t react. Don’t smile. Don’t read into this…
But when I glanced back at him, he was staring—softly, shyly—with those wide, honest eyes that made him look like a boy caught red-handed doing something good.
“Oh, I think a mosquito got in,” I muttered, swatting the air half-heartedly.
“Are there still mosquitoes in this weather?” Thomas asked, raising an eyebrow.
“W-well… we are in the forest, after all,” I said, laughing awkwardly.
“The mosquitoes are quite annoying nowadays,” he mumbled, frowning as if he genuinely planned to do something about it.
“Anyway…” I lifted the warm milk tea can. “Thank you for the drink.”
“It’s okay,” he said softly, smiling. “Hope you have a wonderful evening, and I…”
He trailed off.
“Hmm? What’s wrong?” I tilted my head.
Something flickered in his eyes. Like he was weighing whether to say something—the something. But instead of speaking, he turned slightly, as though preparing to leave, disappointment in the curve of his back.
Then he paused, eyes falling to the ground.
“...Mia, your shoelace is loose.”
I looked down. My sneakers were sitting neatly by the tent entrance—and sure enough, one lace had come undone.
“I can tie them in the morning,” I said casually.
He hummed quietly, still staring.
I could almost hear the memory return to him—the little detail I’d foolishly shared just minutes ago.
My ideal type? Someone who ties my shoelaces...
His gaze stayed on my shoes as something shifted behind his eyes.
“Can I tie them for you?” he asked gently.
I blinked. “No, it’s fine. Really. I’ll just tie them tomorrow.”
But Thomas didn’t step away.
His voice, when he spoke again, was quieter.
Softer.
“…But I love tying shoelaces.”
I feel like a terrible person.
Like someone who just snatched away a puppy’s favorite toy—only worse, because the puppy trusted me. Because I knew exactly what I was doing.
I knew he bent down last night because I told him that. That silly thing about my ideal guy tying shoelaces. I knew why his eyes lingered on my untied laces. I knew, and I let him do it anyway.
I should’ve ended it.
“Anyway,” I said, straightening up and forcing a casual smile, “thanks for the drink. Sleep well, and see you tomorrow.”
“Ah… okay,” Thomas replied softly, with an unreadable smile. Ambiguous, gentle… hopeful. He turned around and slowly disappeared into the dark, quiet path back to his tent.
In his tent, Thomas lay down, staring at the roof of the fabric above him. But his thoughts weren’t soft enough to drift into sleep.
That moment... her shoelaces.
He shut his eyes tight. Calm down. Just sleep.
But he couldn’t. His mind was a loud carousel of what-ifs and imagined futures. Frustrated, he reached for his phone, scrolling aimlessly. Search bar open, he typed:
> how to impress a girl without being too obvious
Then deleted it. Paused. Then typed again:
> ways to be smooth tying shoelaces
And finally:
> what it means when a girl says her ideal type ties shoelaces
He sighed. Hopeless.
But… at least Mia’s shoelaces were tied perfectly last night. That much, he had done right.
The Next Morning
yawn~
I stretched wide under the pale morning sun, standing near the road where the bus was supposed to pick us up. My eyes felt heavy, and my head was buzzing with just a touch of hangover fuzz.
“I feel so sleepy…”
I reached for my phone to check the time—and instantly frowned.
“...Oh no. I don’t have much battery left.”
Shoot. I’d promised to meet Sally today. We were going to check out that famous bakery she’s obsessed with. I could probably meet her directly, but... without GPS, I’d be utterly lost.
“mia,” Thomas’s voice pulled me out of my thoughts. “Is something wrong?”
I looked up, surprised.
“H-How did you know?”
“You seem very worried,” he said gently, tilting his head.
I hesitated. “Uh, well… It’s nothing serious. I was going to meet a friend, but my battery’s almost dead. I can charge it later, but right now I can’t look up how to get there.”
Thomas, without pause, handed me his phone. “Would you like to borrow mine?”
“Oh—really?” I blinked, surprised by the quick offer.
He smiled and held it out. “Of course.”
“Thanks.”
Before I could say more, Eddie called out, “Thomas! Can you help me with this?”
“Ah—yes!” He jogged over, leaving me with his phone still unlocked in my hands.
I tapped open the browser to search for the bakery…
But I didn’t need to type anything.
Right there in the recent search history:
> how to tie shoelaces for a girl
what girls mean by ideal type tying shoelaces
cute ways to tie shoelaces for someone
how to confess feelings through small gestures
I stared. Oh. So… that was the answer to his ambiguous smile last night.
First important task of Project Summer.
Today was the day—I was going to submit my own proposal.
I stood in front of my mirror, practically shaking.
“Geez,” I whispered to myself, heart pounding, “I’m so nervous…”
I’d thrown it together the night before, rushing through the final layout like I was racing a deadline—which, technically, I was. But now, standing here, the weight of it truly hit me. It wasn’t just any presentation. This was my first time showing my work to Eddie.
He would decide if it passed or failed. If I passed or failed.
“The most important thing is to get his confirmation…” I muttered, trying to psych myself up.
I stared into my closet, sifting through clothes like they were magic spells that could give me courage. After several minutes of mental debate, I settled on something simple but smart. Clean. Professional. Maybe lucky.
“This’ll do. Then… shall I go?”
I grabbed my bag and left, fully expecting the day to go smoothly.
Well... I thought everything would go well.
At the Project Team Office
I stood stiffly beside the meeting table, proposal in hand, samples spread out carefully before Eddie.
“…So these are the samples I selected for the project,” I said, forcing my voice to sound confident.
Eddie barely glanced at the layout before setting the pages down.
“Miss Mia.”
“Yes?” I looked up quickly, nerves twitching at the sharp tone.
“Again,” he said flatly.
“…Sorry?” My throat tightened.
“Re-do it.”
“A-ah…”
He sighed. “Mia, are you even aware that the photos you've included in your proposal don’t match your concept at all?”
I swallowed hard, my ears burning.
“Not to mention,” he added, “the concept itself is nearly identical to the one in the portfolio you already submitted during the application process. Look.” He tapped the corner of the page, his voice turning clipped and precise. “The referred material and your concept don’t match. You’ve got to be more thoughtful than this.”
His words weren’t cruel. But they were firm—clear, and not sugar-coated.
"...Yes, sir."
The words slipped out of me like an automated response. Stiff. Small. Powerless.
I, Mia, seriously thought about quitting my job—at least a dozen times today.
“…Hah… mia, you dummy…” I muttered under my breath, voice barely audible behind my computer screen.
I had revised my proposal so many times I lost count. Again. And again. And again.
Re-do it.
It doesn’t match the concept.
Be more thoughtful.
Eddie’s voice echoed in my head like a cruel mantra. But what made it even worse—what truly burned—was that he was right. About every. Single. Thing.
I had no excuse.
Just then, Thomas appeared by my desk, gently tapping the side of his folder against the edge of my table.
“Mia, I just checked your proposal,” he said, soft-eyed. “If you just tweak here and here, I think it'll be fine. I can help you make a sample report—”
“No,” Eddie’s voice cut in sharply before Thomas could finish.
Thomas paused.
“That’s Mia’s job,” Eddie added firmly.
“…Yes,” Thomas said quickly, stepping back. “That’s right.”
“You should only give her the guidelines,” Eddie said, tone crisp.
“Yes, sir,” Thomas answered with a stiff nod.
“…Yes, sir,” I echoed, my voice quieter, almost swallowed by the floor.
Mr. Lewis is super scary today…
Until yesterday—no, even this morning—he had been different.
I still remembered.
Earlier That Day
The office coffee machine had jammed again, blinking stubbornly.
Eddie had passed behind me, pausing. “Hmm, is the machine not working, Mia?”
“Y-yeah. It’s acting weird,” I had murmured, poking at the screen.
“Excuse me,” he said, then gently leaned over—his arm brushing against mine—as he grabbed my wrist and pressed my finger against the biometric sensor.
The machine chirped and unlocked.
“Haha,” he chuckled under his breath. “You have cute fingers.”
I’d blinked, startled. Warm. Confused.
He’s always so gentle… I’d thought.
But now—
“Look, Mia,” Eddie said suddenly, pulling me back to the present. His tone was lower now—not harsh, but serious. “We don’t have much time left. You know that, right?”
I looked up at him, meeting his sharp eyes.
“…Yes, Eddie. I’m aware of it.”
Eddie leaned on the edge of my desk, still looking composed, still smiling—but it wasn’t the soft smile from earlier this morning. This one felt... heavier.
"How many hours left?" he asked casually, almost too calmly.
“Five hours, sir,” I answered, my fingers twitching under the desk.
“Hmm,” he nodded. “Good luck.”
“Right.”
I turned back to my monitor, but goosebumps prickled down my arms.
See...? That smile... it scares me.
He was still smiling—but it wasn’t the kind that made your heart flutter. It was the kind that made your stomach turn. Like something was about to explode, and I was sitting on the trigger.
Then—
"Mia?" Thomas’s voice.
“Y-yes!” I jolted in my seat.
He gestured with a slight nod. “Would you follow me out for a moment, please?”
“...Yes...”
I stood up stiffly, heart thudding against my ribs. Every eye in the room felt like it was on me.
At the Corridor
I followed Thomas silently, my mind spiraling into panic.
Is he going to scold me? Really bad?
He’d stayed late with me last night—past midnight, just to help. All because he was my mentor. All because he believed in me.
And still… I messed it up.
Even this morning, he had tried his best to guide me again.
No wonder he must be disappointed. Angry, even.
Yeah… this is my fault.
Stupid, stupid mia... You need to work harder!
At the Staff Lounge
The room was quiet. The hum of the fridge and the faint scent of instant coffee were the only signs of life.
Thomas turned to face me, his expression soft.
“Mia.”
“Yes! Mentor!” I stiffened again like a cadet at roll call.
But he didn’t raise his voice. He didn’t lecture.
Instead—
“Are you okay?”
“…Pardon?” My voice cracked.