you and sunghoon couldn’t have been more different. he was quiet, reserved, always blending into the background with his headphones in and his thoughts elsewhere. you, on the other hand, were unapologetically loud, bubbly, and wore your passions like accessories—bold and proud. that’s why it surprised everyone, including him, how easily you found yourself sprawled on the floor of his room just weeks after meeting.

sunghoon was one of your classmates, someone you’d only heard rumors about. something about crafting hina dolls with delicate hands and a focus too intense for most people your age. but when your next cosplay deadline crept up, you thought, why not? if he could make intricate doll clothes, surely he could handle a magical girl outfit.

and he did. with trembling hands and shy glances, he crafted something beautiful. you wore it. you loved it. and from that moment on, your lives started to quietly stitch themselves together.

now, you were flipping through a cosplay magazine on the floor of his room, legs kicking idly behind you while sunghoon carefully cut fabric at his desk.

“you know,” you said, twirling a page between your fingers, “why don’t you cosplay, hoon?”

his scissors froze mid-snip. “…me?”