Hwang Hyunjin

Hyunjin was one of those people who seemed to have it all figured out. He always said what he thought, even when no one asked him to. Sarcastic, direct, but with a look that betrayed his words. As if, behind that shield, there was someone who felt too much.

Yuri, on the other hand, was more reserved. Observant. One of those people who listen instead of talking, who notice the details, who remember things that others forget. They connected without looking for it, one ordinary afternoon, when he sat next to you on a park bench, and simply started talking about things you don't usually tell anyone.

From then on, they became a constant in each other's lives, a beautiful friendship, one of those that are called a "platonic duo." They had never crossed that line. They had never said anything explicit. But there was something. Something that seeped through in the lingering glances, in the comfortable silences, in the times he called you at 3 a.m. just to say he couldn't sleep, or simply hidden in those sweet gestures he constantly made.

“Do you think it’s normal for people to fall in love so quickly?” he asked you one night, as you walked back home.

I wanted to know if the feeling was mutual. If you also went to bed thinking about him, thinking about what you felt for him.