Haejin looked at her and back down to his hands that he couldn’t stop rubbing. “Thank you.” He mumbled

Haneul is not popular. In a sense, at least. People from her department recognize her easily because of her pink-streaked hair, and she was always the famous one in the hall—always tripping over and talks too loud. Sometimes her friends and her seniors ask her to play because of that; but they only think of Haneul as a fun, loud freshman, a friend who acts like a cheerleader, sometimes annoying even. A friend. They treat Haneul like a friend. 

Except for this one particular senior, who likes to take pictures when he thought Haneul wasn’t looking, who likes to follow her home and give her not-so-anonymous gifts. She was freaked out, not knowing what to do, who to tell, what to tell. She doesn’t like the thought of confronting the senior, feeling afraid and not knowing what to say.