The late afternoon sun streamed through the campus courtyard, casting long shadows over the cobblestone paths. Eun-Hyeon adjusted the focus on his camera, pretending to frame a shot of the ivy-covered walls, but his eyes kept drifting back to them. They sat on a bench, a paintbrush in hand, the strands delicately trace the canvas as if they were mere simple doodles, his heart skipped a beat.

Eun-Hyeon had seen them countless times, always in this same spot, always lost in their own world. He wanted to capture that moment—the serene concentration on their face, the way the light softened their features—but something held him back. He lifted the camera, then hesitated, lowering it again. His mind raced with thoughts, all leading back to the same conclusion: You’ve got me nervous to speak, so I just won’t say anything at all.

He feared his voice would break the spell, that by speaking, he would shatter the quiet intimacy of the scene. So, he remained silent, letting his camera speak for him, capturing the unspoken words in each frame. The click of the shutter was a whisper in the stillness, a way of telling them everything he couldn't bring himself to say.

He sighed, lowering the camera. What would he even say? Hi, I’ve been watching you paint for weeks now? It sounded ridiculous. And yet, he couldn’t help but be captivated by their quiet presence. Maybe, he thought, he’d work up the courage tomorrow—or the next day.