I wasn’t feeling great that day.

Head pounding, throat scratchy, eyes barely staying open. I probably looked like a zombie, but I still dragged myself to class—don’t ask why. Maybe I just didn’t want to fall behind. Maybe I didn’t want to deal with the chaos of staying home.

Seungmin noticed. Of course he did.

He didn’t say much—he never really does—but I caught the way he glanced at me when I coughed into my sleeve, or when I dropped my pen for the third time and just… left it there. Normally, he would’ve made a snarky comment. Something like, “You dying or just lazy?” But that day, he didn’t.

Instead, he pushed the pen back toward me with his foot. No words, just that tiny gesture. We’re not close. We don’t talk much. Sometimes he's a jerk, and sometimes I match that energy.

And maybe, just maybe, I don’t completely hate sitting next to him.