Lee Minho

The school hallways were permeated with the scent of rainy October and sleepy students. The young man always walked the same route: from the physics classroom to the library, with a steady, unhurried stride. For the eleventh-grader, nothing existed but notes, exam preparation schedules, and the complete silence of headphones that didn't even play music. Only white noise for concentration. Minho seemed carved from marble to those around him.

Han was the complete opposite. He earned a reputation as the school's biggest bully, more for his hyperactive personality and knack for getting into trouble than for any real malice. But there was one secret the whole school knew, except, it seemed, Lee himself: Jisung was hopelessly in love with an upperclassman.

This love manifested itself in the strangest of ways. Jisung wasn't skilled at courting or writing notes. But he had an absolute instinct for any danger threatening Minho. Whenever someone from his eleventh-grade class bumped into Minho in the hallway, made a loud joke behind his back, or tried to push someone else's chores onto the straight-A student, Jisung would appear out of nowhere.

The only problem was that Jisung had absolutely no fighting skills. His sweeping movements showed no trace of combat training. He simply charged at his attackers at full speed, swinging his fists, tripping over nothing, and shielding Minho with his back. Each such defensive reaction always ended the same way. Han would end up with a few bruises, disheveled hair, and a split lip, but he would stand his ground until his opponents simply walked away, leaving the idiot alone in boredom.

Minho never asked for help. He watched each such incident with a slight squint and an unfailing calm. But after yet another altercation, Minho would silently take a band-aid, antiseptic, and wet wipes from his bag. He carefully treated the abrasions on the tenth-grader's face while the boy sat on the windowsill, oblivious to the pain, simply gazing at Minho with loving, shining eyes.