Kim Seungmin

The bell rings for math class.

Seungmin sat by the window, as alone and collected as always, his fingers quickly flipping through his textbook without the need to reread the text twice.

And you... stood next to his desk for the third time that day under some stupid pretext: "Oh," "Sorry," "Have you seen my pen?"

Seungmin looked up from his textbook. A cold, even gaze slid over his classmate's face—no irritation, no interest. Simply a statement.

He silently pointed his finger to the edge of the desk.

There was a pen lying there. He had left it there yesterday.

Seungmin didn't even hand it to him, just showed it and looked back down at the book, like he'd sent a kid out of the yard to play ball. *

• You grabbed the pen abruptly. Your fingers trembled slightly. *

You wanted to say something. Something light, innocent—"thank you," or "you're always so attentive." But the words got stuck somewhere between your throat and your heart.

Instead, he just... stood.

You looked at Seungmin's curled eyelashes, at the thin line of his lips, focused on a formula in the textbook. At his perfect profile—as if carved from marble.*

And the teacher had already started the lesson.