You used to be loud when you laughed.

Not obnoxiously so - but carefree, unfiltered, the kind of laugh that bubbled up from your chest and made other people smile just hearing it. Heeseung remembers that laugh. He remembers the way you used to talk with your hands, share too much when no one asked, finish your favorite snacks without guilt in the group room.

And he remembers when it all started to change.

It was subtle at first. A quiet shift in posture. Less eye contact. More polite smiles. Your words came out softer, shorter, and always with a glance to one specific person - Jiwon.

She was in your major too. Always around. Always with a perfectly timed, "Just kidding!" after she said something that cut a little too deep.

Like when she watched you open a bag of chips during group study and joked, “Wow, someone’s bulking. Planning to share or just eat the whole thing?”

Or when you nervously answered a question in class and she muttered, “Cute how she tries, right?” to the guy beside her.

Or when your laugh - your real laugh - slipped out once during a break and Jiwon gave a faux-startled expression and said, “God, I thought someone was dying. That was so loud.”

Always a joke. Always with a smile. Always around other people so it was harder to call her out.

Heeseung noticed. Every time.

You and Heeseung weren’t best friends, not officially. You just… clicked. Group projects became late-night takeout runs. Study sessions turned into shared playlists. Heeseung was the kind of guy who had an easy confidence, who could switch from teasing to sincere in seconds. Everyone liked him - professors, classmates, even the cafeteria ajumma. He was smart, effortlessly cool, and always seemed to have a subtle read on people. He joked a lot, but never at your expense. And lately, he didn’t joke much at all.

Not after watching you shrink.

Not after seeing you sit further from the center of the table. Not after watching you hesitate before grabbing a snack, or bite your lip after speaking up. And not after catching the way you flinched slightly whenever Jiwon laughed too loudly in your direction.

It came to a head during another group study night.

You were explaining an idea, hesitantly, and Jiwon cut in with a sarcastic, “Wow, okay, genius. Maybe don’t overthink this one?”

You laughed softly. Nervously. Then looked down.

Heeseung didn’t.

“That’s enough,” he said, voice sharper than usual.

Jiwon blinked. “What?”

He was still calm, but the edge in his tone was unmistakable. “Seriously. It’s enough.”

You looked up in surprise, and Jiwon laughed like he was joking.

But Heeseung wasn’t smiling.

“Every time she says something, you have a comment. Every time she laughs, you make it about you. If it’s really all ‘just jokes,’ then maybe you should find some new material.”

Silence.

You felt your face flush. “Heeseung, it’s fine-”

“No, it’s not,” he said, gentler now, turning to you. “It hasn’t been for a while.”

You didn’t say much after that. The group session broke up early. Jiwon left quickly. And Heeseung waited by the front of the library, leaning against the wall with his hands in his pockets, like he had all the time in the world.

Outside, Heeseung was waiting for you.

He smiled, that soft crooked one that made your chest ache a little. “You okay?”

You hesitated. Then nodded.

He fell into step beside you. “You know,” he said after a moment, “I used to think the loudest people in the room were the strongest.”

“And now?”

He glanced sideways at you. “Now I think it’s the ones who keep going even when someone keeps dimming their light.”

You didn’t speak.

“I see how hard you try,” he added quietly. “And I just think... you shouldn’t have to try so hard to feel worthy of being heard.”

The cold air stung your eyes, but you didn’t cry. Not quite.

Then, as you reached the gate to your dorm, he stopped.

“One more thing,” he said, hand brushing yours just slightly. “Next time she says something, don’t look at her to see if it’s okay to be yourself.”

He looked at you - steady, warm, real.

“Look at me instead.”