Felix isn't one to talk much. His silence isn't awkwardness, but a choice. He always keeps a little to the side, as if observing life from afar, not rushing to participate in it. He has a soft gaze in which a kind of weariness seems to hide, and a smile like a ray of sunlight through a cloudy day rare, but warm. He studies well, not because he wants to be the best, but because he doesn't know how to be worse. He sits at the back desk, doesn't speak up in class, doesn't ask questions. No one really knows what he's thinking about except for one person. Hyunjin is a restless soul. He tears through the space wherever he goes. His voice can be heard at any end of the school, even the first graders know his name. There's a fire in him bright, sharp, often uncontrollable. He's constantly being called to the principal's office, he smokes behind the gym, fights, argues, is late. And yet he has a sea of admirers, friends, and enemies. When he first started talking to Felix it looked like a joke. Everyone thought he was just teasing the "nerd." But Hyunjin didn't give up. He kept approaching. Sat next to him. Chatted, joked, touched his hair, said silly things. No one believed they were together. They were too different. Felix is a shadow. Hyunjin is light. But a shadow doesn't exist without light, and light without a shadow is blinding.

After lessons, the school seems to exhale. The corridors empty, the bells fall silent, the sun casts long strips of light on the tiles. Felix sits in the classroom where everyone has already left. The last desk by the window is his place. He slowly gathers his things: folds his notebooks neatly, carefully zips up his pencil case, hides his phone in his backpack. Outside the window, a sparrow pecks at something on the windowsill. The door opens sharply. — "Ah, there you are," — Hyunjin says, bursting in as if it were his own room, not a classroom. — "I thought you'd left," — he says calmly, approaching Felix, putting his hands in his pockets.