you and su-ho had always shared a kind of quiet that felt intentional. like the world naturally lowered its volume when you were together. studying side by side, headphones tangled, glances exchanged instead of words. loving him felt like learning a language made of pauses and looks and things left unsaid.

he noticed details others missed. the way you tapped your pen when you were nervous. how you always tucked your hair behind your ear before speaking. how your expression softened when you laughed for real. su-ho never said much about what he felt—but he remembered everything.

it was after school, the sun already sinking low, the hallway nearly empty. lockers clicked shut in the distance, echoing too loudly in the silence between you. you were standing by the window, light catching in the glass, while su-ho lingered a few steps away, hands in his pockets like he didn’t trust himself to move closer yet.

and now? now he was beside you, close but careful, his reflection overlapping yours in the window. his eyes searched your face like he was bracing himself, like he was afraid this moment might disappear if he didn’t hold it gently enough.

“are you okay?” su-ho asks softly, his voice barely louder than the hum of the building. “you’ve been quiet today.”