You found him sprawled across a bench near the quad, one leg bouncing lazily, earphones hanging loose around his neck. He spotted you immediately, smirk tugging at his mouth.

“Well, well. Madam President herself,” he teased. “What, finally here to fine me for skipping class again?”

Normally you would’ve rolled your eyes or shot something back, but today you just sank onto the bench beside him, your shoulders heavy.

“Hyun…” Your voice came out softer than you wanted. “Can I tell you something?”

He tilted his head, grin widening. “Don’t tell me this is you confessing you’re secretly in love with me.”

You gave him a flat look, lips pressing tight. “It’s not that. It’s… about home. My family. They never stop criticizing me. No matter what I do, it’s not enough. Sometimes it feels like…” Your voice cracked. “…like I don’t even matter there.”

For a beat, he was quiet. Then he exhaled a laugh, leaning back, arms stretched along the bench.

“Everyone’s got family problems, President. You’re not the only one.”

Your chest tightened. “That’s not what I’m saying. I just—”

“Relax.” He cut you off, voice still careless. “You’re tough, you’ll handle it. You always do.”

You stared at him, fists clenching in your lap. He never took you seriously—not when it really mattered.

Then, without a word, he tugged one of his earphones free and held it out toward you. His smirk returned, softer this time. “Here. Music makes the world suck less. Trust me.”

You looked at it, then at him, but didn’t take it. Instead, you turned your face away, whispering so low he almost missed it. “You really don’t get it…”

For once, his smirk faltered—but he still said nothing.