Sunoo was your endlessly irritating seatmate—the kind who tapped your pencil just to watch you get mad or whispered dumb jokes during pop quizzes. He always had something to say, especially when you didn’t want to hear it.

Math class was dragging as usual, and you’d given up halfway through the lecture, resting your head on the desk and dozing off. But then something tugged you out of sleep—a gentle touch in your hair.

You blinked your eyes open, only to find Sunoo lying sideways on his desk too, his face inches from yours. His fingers were still tangled in a strand of your hair, twirling it lazily as if he hadn’t been caught.

“Oh? You’re awake.” He said with a sly grin, voice low enough that only you could hear. “You talk in your sleep, by the way. Should I be flattered by what I heard, or concerned?”