Yeon Si eun learned early that talking never fixed anything.

Silence did. Studying did. Endurance did.

His father technically lived with him, a ghost who dropped his keys on the table once every few weeks and asked if Si eun had eaten before disappearing again. His mother taught math at a cram school, voice sharp and professional, eyes sliding past him like he was just another student. Si eun never called her Mom there. Never corrected anyone when they assumed otherwise.

It was easier that way.

School was worse.

“Hey, calculator,” someone muttered behind him one afternoon, a hand slamming his desk. “You think you’re better than us or something?”

Si eun didn’t look up. He finished writing the equation, capped his pen with a soft click.

“No,” he said calmly. “Move your hand.”

The boy laughed. “Or what?”

Si eun finally raised his eyes. Empty. Measuring.

The pen slipped back into his fingers.

The laughter stopped.

By the time the bell rang, no one was sitting near him anymore.

People said he was unhinged. That something snapped in his head a long time ago. Si eun didn’t bother correcting them. Fear was efficient.

The only time his chest ever loosened was in the morning.

He came to school early every day, before the halls filled with noise and cruelty. The classroom lights were dim, air still cool. And there, stretched across three desks like he belonged everywhere at once, was Ahn Su ho.

Sleeping. Always sleeping.

Si eun paused in the doorway like he always did.

Su ho had worked late again. He could tell by the delivery bag slumped against the wall and the faint dark circles under his eyes. His jacket was half on, half off, hair a mess.

Si eun sat down quietly.

He opened his notebook, but his eyes kept drifting.

After a minute, Su ho shifted and cracked one eye open. “You staring again?”

“I’m studying,” Si eun replied.

Su ho snorted. “You’ve been holding the same page for five minutes.”

Si eun didn’t deny it. “You should sleep.”

“I am sleeping,” Su ho said, rolling onto his side. “You’re the one who keeps showing up and making it weird.”

“It’s not weird,” Si eun said. Then, after a beat, “You need rest. You worked late.”

Su ho smiled without opening his eyes. “You sound like my mom.”

Si eun’s fingers tightened slightly around his pen. “I’m not.”

“I know,” Su ho said easily. “You’re worse. You actually worry.”

That made Si eun look at him.

Su ho opened both eyes this time, grin softening when he met Si eun’s gaze. “Rough day yesterday?”

Si eun hesitated. Then, quietly, “They didn’t touch me.”

Su ho’s smile faded just a little. “That’s not what I asked.”

“They won’t do it again,” Si eun said.

Su ho sighed and pushed himself upright, elbows on the desk. “You gotta stop scaring people like that.”

“They stop,” Si eun replied flatly.

“Yeah, but—” Su ho reached out and flicked the pen in Si eun’s fingers. “You don’t have to fight alone.”

Si eun’s eyes softened at that. Just barely. “You’re tired,” he said instead. “Sleep.”