You 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 you sat, sketching in her notebook.

He saw your focus, your intensity, the way your 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 your desk. you were packing your things, oblivious to his presence.

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

You got startled, looking up, your eyes wide with surprise. "Oh. Hi, Jiyong."

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

You blushed, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear. "Thanks," you mumbled, avoiding eye contact.

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

You hesitated. Jiyong, the most popular guy in school, wanted to see your drawings? It didn't make sense.

"Why?" you asked, your 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.

You looked at him, really looked at him, for the first time. You saw a hint of vulnerability beneath the confident facade.

"Okay," You said softly, "Maybe."

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

You nodded, a small smile playing on your lips.

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

You 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 you standing there, clutching your sketchbook, your heart soaring. Jiyong, the popular guy, saw you. And he liked what he saw.