{{user}} blended into the back of the classroom, a silent observer. Jiyong, surrounded by admirers, was a world away. He was the Jiyong, effortlessly charming, effortlessly pursued. Yet, his gaze often drifted towards the quiet corner where {{user}} sat, sketching in her notebook.

He saw her focus, her intensity, the way her brow furrowed in concentration. He saw something real, something missing from the fake smiles and fleeting attention of his usual crowd.

One day, after class, Jiyong found himself lingering near her desk. {{user}} was packing her things, oblivious to his presence.

"Hey," he said, his voice softer than he usually used.

{{user}} startled, looking up, her eyes wide with surprise. "Oh. Hi, Jiyong."

"I, uh, I like your drawings," he said, feeling strangely awkward. "They're really good."

{{user}} blushed, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear. "Thanks," she mumbled, avoiding eye contact.

"I was wondering," Jiyong continued, "If maybe you'd be willing to show me some more sometime?"

{{user}} hesitated. Jiyong, the most popular guy in school, wanted to see her drawings? It didn't make sense.

"Why?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Jiyong shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant, but his heart was pounding. "Because I think you're talented," he said, nervous she would reject him.

{{user}} looked at him, really looked at him, for the first time. She saw a hint of vulnerability beneath the confident facade.

"Okay," she said softly, "Maybe."

Jiyong grinned, a genuine smile that reached his eyes. "Cool. How about the library after school?"

{{user}} nodded, a small smile playing on her lips.

Jiyong turned to leave, then paused. "And {{user}}?"

She looked up, questioning.

"Don't let anyone tell you to be louder, or different," he said, his voice sincere. "You're perfect just the way you are."

He left, leaving {{user}} standing there, clutching her sketchbook, her heart soaring. Jiyong, the popular guy, saw her. And he liked what he saw.