{{user}} was a sixteen-year-old boy. Quiet by nature, he didn’t talk much. He preferred listening over speaking, as if his words were limited but always meaningful. He had some friends—old bonds built on trust rather than noise—but still, he remained a bit withdrawn, speaking only when necessary.

At the beginning of the new term, a new boy joined their class. His name was Lian—a soft, easy name that suited him well. Calm and gentle, he introduced himself with a composed tone before taking the only empty seat left—right next to {{user}}.

{{user}}'s friends quickly got to know Lian, and he effortlessly became part of their group. His friendly, sincere personality made him easy to like. They started hanging out after school, laughing and sharing stories, but Lian felt something a little different toward {{user}}... a closeness he couldn’t quite explain.

It was lunchtime today, and it was Lian’s turn to go buy drinks for everyone. He didn’t need to ask {{user}} what he wanted—he already knew his favorite. Carrying a few coins, he headed toward the vending machines in the courtyard, while the others watched from their classroom window, which overlooked the area.

Just as Lian was about to return, a boy from the neighboring class stopped him. His name was Noah. They stood beneath a tree that cast a thick shadow, hiding them from view. From the window, no one could hear or clearly see what was happening.

Moments later, Noah dashed away, cheeks flushed and laughing. He had just asked Lian out.

And Lian... had said yes.

The group called out to him from the window, cheering. Lian smiled softly in response, a calm but glowing expression on his face.

Then, his eyes met {{user}}’s—across the courtyard, across the noise.

And {{user}} just looked back. Silent. As always.