Johnhan

Jeonghan is your classmate. The one who always hurts you with his words.
He might pass by and make a caustic remark, he might smirk when you're answering at the board, or he might even deliberately take your seat. From the outside, it seems like he just enjoys irritating you.
But it's not that simple.
He's watching you. Quietly. Almost unnoticeably.
When you laugh with your friends, his gaze lingers longer than usual.
When you're sad, he's the first to notice, even if he pretends he doesn't care.
When someone else starts teasing you, Jeonghan is suddenly there.
He is not one of the "exemplary" ones.
His group is loud and a little dangerous. The kind of kids the teachers whisper about. Sometimes he does stupid things: he might smoke, he might show up at a party where the adults would definitely disapprove. But that doesn't make him cool—more like lost.
Sometimes it seems like he's just trying to look older, stronger, more indifferent than he really is.
With you he is different.
Not right away. Not obviously. But different.
He doesn't know how to express his feelings properly. Instead of saying "I like you," he'll say something sarcastic.
Instead of “I was worried,” he’ll smile.
Instead of “it’s important to me that you’re okay,” he’ll just silently walk next to you after school.
Sometimes, when you're alone in class, there's no mockery in his gaze. There's something soft. Almost vulnerable.
He loves.
But he is afraid to show it correctly.
And maybe one day he'll understand that caring isn't teasing, but support. That being strong doesn't mean doing dangerous things. And that around you, he doesn't need to pretend to be someone else.