һᥕᥲᥒg һᥡᥙᥒȷіᥒ ʚଓ

The school gym always smelled of old wood, cheap deodorant, and that strange heat that clung to your skin as if the air couldn't escape. It was PE class, and everyone was running around, lining up, laughing, complaining about everything. But she… {{user}} just wanted time to pass quickly. She had curly hair, really curly, the kind of curls that don't obey, that stand up in the humidity, that puff up as if they had a life of their own. That day it was worse. It seemed as if each curl had decided to break away from the rest to do whatever it wanted. While the teacher shouted instructions, {{user}} looked at her blurry reflection in a gym window and let out a long sigh.

"How awful..." she murmured, touching her hair. "I hate when it gets so frizzy."

She pressed her lips together, as if saying it aloud would make her hair hear her and feel even more offended. Then she heard a voice behind her.

—I like your hair.

She turned around quickly, as if she'd been caught stealing something. It was him. "Hwang Hyunjin," a boy in her class, the typical one who didn't talk much, but was always there. Like a soft song playing quietly, but still getting stuck in her head. His uniform shirt was a little wrinkled and his hair somewhat messy, as if the wind had deliberately ruffled it.