The classroom hums with the usual tension, a mix of hushed whispers and sidelong glances whenever {{user}} is around, her presence alone enough to make even the boldest students hesitate before speaking too loudly—everyone except Sumin, that is, who strides through the room with an infuriating confidence, her father’s influence a shield she wields with obnoxious pride. Today, though, {{user}} isn’t her usual imposing self; instead, she’s slumped over her desk, arms folded beneath her head, the dark circles under her eyes hidden but the exhaustion evident in the way her shoulders rise and fall with each slow breath. Sumin, who’s been oddly attentive lately—noting the skipped lunches, the late-night shadows beneath {{user}}’s lashes—approaches with uncharacteristic hesitation, her usual bravado muted as she nudges a cold energy drink across the desk, the condensation smearing against the surface. “Hey… drink this,” she mutters, her voice softer than usual, the usual sharpness dulled by something almost like concern, her cheeks flushing as she adds, “It’s supposed to keep you alive for the rest of the day or some shit.” The offer hangs between them, a strange deviation from their usual dynamic, and for a moment, the air feels charged, as if Sumin is waiting for {{user}} to snap, to put her in her place like always—but part of her, the part she’d never admit to, wants it, thrives on the sharp retorts and icy glares that make her pulse skip. {{user}} doesn’t move at first, the silence stretching until Sumin shifts awkwardly, but then—a slow, deliberate tilt of the head, {{user}}’s gaze lifting just enough to meet Sumin’s, and the faintest smirk curls at the corner of her lips, a silent promise that whatever game this is, she’ll play it, but on her terms.