the first time you spoke to him, you asked if he liked the rain. he looked at you for a long moment, eyes unreadable, and said, “i don’t like or dislike things. they just happen.” you nodded. then sat beside him the next day. and every day after that.

friendship with si-eun wasn’t simple. he didn’t laugh much. didn’t talk unless there was something to say. but you learned to read the space between his words. how his fingers twitched when he was thinking hard. how he always bought two bottles of water and silently handed you one without asking. how he walked you home when the sun went down, even if he never said why.

you got used to it — his silence, his stares, the way he always seemed like he was calculating the world and choosing you anyway.

people didn’t get it. they said si-eun was scary. too smart. too closed off. and maybe he was. but not with you.

with you, he listened. when you asked about physics, he explained. when you forgot things, he remembered. when you cried over a bad grade, he let you sulk in his room and only rolled his eyes once, before quietly pushing a packet of snacks your way.

you admired him. that was the simplest truth of it all. not in a puppy love way. not like those girls who whispered about him in the halls. you admired the way he always knew what to do. how he seemed immune to everything that confused you — emotions, impulses, the mess of being young. si-eun had answers. you.. had questions.

you always thought si-eun was a little unreal. not in the dramatic, daydream kind of way. more like he didn’t seem to belong to the same world as everyone else. while your classmates stumbled over themselves, trying to be liked or seen or chosen, si-eun just existed. unbothered. untouched. like the rules everyone else followed didn’t apply to him, and maybe they didn’t.

he was too smart, too fast, too aware of everything. not just in class — though his grades made teachers swoon — but in fights too, the kind that happened in empty stairwells or behind buildings when someone pushed too far. he always won. but to you, he was just si-eun.

you, who couldn’t punch a wall without crying. who didn’t understand half the formulas written on the board. who walked through the world like it was full of things you hadn’t figured out yet. and somehow, for reasons you never fully grasped, he liked being around you.

sometimes you wondered why. you talked too much. you asked questions that made other people look at you funny. once you asked si-eun if he believed in ghosts and spent the next fifteen minutes rambling about the difference between spirits and shadows. he didn’t interrupt. didn’t laugh. just listened, completely still, until you trailed off with a sheepish “…never mind.”

“I think you’re more interesting than a textbook,” he said after a beat and hell you didn’t stop smiling for hours.

the others noticed it, of course. “why does he only talk to you?” su-ho once asked, mouth full of snack crumbs and voice full of suspicion. “like, what do you even do to him?”

“is he maybe into weird girls?” he snorted, dodging a soda can you threw at his head. “it’s kinda funny watching him look at you like that.” he added.

you had no idea what su-ho or they meant. you weren’t doing anything. si-eun was just your friend. your weird, closed-off, unnaturally competent friend who let you fall asleep on his shoulder during movie nights and always stood a little too close in crowded places.

who handed you napkins without being asked when you spilled something. who once got a nosebleed during a fight and still texted you right after: you need help with physics tomorrow?

you didn’t overthink it. you admired him, sure. everyone did. but your admiration was different.

you liked how he remembered small things. like how you hated seafood and couldn’t drink coffee without sugar. you liked how he never tried to make you feel smaller for being confused or slow. even when you whined and said things like “i’m gonna drop out and open a flower shop,” si-eun just nodded and said, “you’d be good at that.”

he didn’t say things unless he meant them. and that made you want to believe every word that came out of his mouth. he wasn’t as expressionless as people thought, either. you learned how to read him.

when he was annoyed, he’d tap his fingers — short, quick movements like he was trying not to snap. when he was amused, he’d blink a little slower, the corners of his mouth twitching like he was trying not to smile.

and when he looked at you, sometimes — just sometimes — there was something different in his eyes. not fondness, exactly. something heavier. softer. you didn’t know what to call it, but it made your skin feel too warm.

si-eun wasn’t much of a talker, but he never shut you out. not really. once, you asked him if he liked being your friend. it was a stupid question. you regretted it the second it left your mouth.

but he looked at you and said, “you’re the only person who makes me feel like.. i’m not just good for fixing things.” you didn’t say anything back. just leaned against him and hoped he could hear your heartbeat. it was loud. embarrassingly so.

and now, you were in si-eun’s room again, the one place that never changed. the curtains were still half-drawn, the light outside dim enough to make everything inside feel like it was holding its breath.

his desk was organized like always — books stacked in perfect columns, black pens lined in a row, a digital clock ticking too quietly. you were on the floor, stretched out on your stomach, chin propped up on your arms, your phone somewhere nearby but forgotten.

si-eun sat behind you, back against the wall, legs stretched long beside yours. he was scrolling through something on his tablet, probably notes you wouldn’t understand even if you tried. you didn’t know why your heart had been beating too fast all day.

maybe it was because you’d started noticing things you used to ignore. like the way his hair had grown just a little longer over his ears. or how his sleeves were pushed up, exposing veins and wrist bones and that thin scar on his forearm that you’d once touched without thinking.

or how his voice sounded different when he talked to you — slower, quieter, like he didn’t need to say much at all to keep you listening. you couldn’t focus. your thoughts were loud in your head, tangled up and restless.

you were thinking about how you’d never kissed anyone before. not seriously. not properly. and you weren’t embarrassed, exactly — it just felt strange. like you were missing something that everyone else seemed to understand instinctively. like you were too far behind, and eventually someone would find out.

but the real problem wasn’t the kiss. it was that you kept thinking about what it might be like if si-eun was the one to teach you. the thought had been creeping in lately. quiet, uninvited. the way his mouth would feel. the way his hand might tilt your jaw.

the way he’d look at you after. it didn’t make sense — you weren’t dating. he wasn’t flirty. he wasn’t even particularly gentle. but there was something in the way he always noticed you. something that made your stomach twist and your fingers curl.

so you said it. you didn’t even mean to. it just slipped out, too casual, too soft, like a pebble dropped into still water.

“hey… can I ask you something?”

si-eun hummed. not looking up yet.

“it’s gonna sound really dumb.”

he glanced at you then. his face was unreadable, but you could feel his attention sharpening. he always listened like that — completely, like he was watching a wire for signs of tension.

you hesitated. your skin prickled.

“…do you know how to kiss someone?”

the silence hit you immediately. thick. loaded. you almost regretted saying it — almost laughed it off, ready to cover it up with a joke, but then he sat forward slightly, tablet lowering to his lap, and your breath caught in your throat.

“why are you asking me that?” his voice was calm. too calm. not teasing, not annoyed, just.. still?

you swallowed, suddenly aware of how close you were to him, how the space between your knees and his was barely wide enough to fit a thought.

“I don’t know,” you said, your voice smaller now. “I guess… I was just wondering. you always seem to know everything. and—” you paused. “I haven’t. not really. I mean, I’ve never done it properly.”

si-eun stared at you for a long time. his eyes weren’t cold, but they were heavy, like he was holding something back. something sharp and coiled and dangerous, sitting quiet just under the surface.

“and you want me to teach you?”

you blinked, he didn’t sound surprised, more like he was trying to confirm it. like he’d already run the calculations in his head and was now trying to decide if he should press the button.

you sat up slowly, heart pounding so hard you thought it might echo. “I just thought… if anyone could explain it, it’d be you.”

he let out a breath. not a laugh. just an exhale, low and almost bitter. “you really think kissing someone is something you can explain?”

your mouth opened. closed. “you’re smart,” you tried again, weakly. “you’re good at things.”

“i’m not good at this.”

you tilted your head, trying to read him. “you’ve kissed someone before, right?”

he didn’t answer, which meant yes. you nodded, trying to play it cool, trying to stay where the air wasn’t burning.

“i’m just curious,” you said, softer now. “i’ve never done it. I don’t know what it’s supposed to feel like.”

si-eun didn’t move for a long time. then, quietly: “what do you want it to feel like?”

you blinked. “I… don’t know. warm, I guess?” his jaw tensed. his hands stayed in his lap, fingers laced together, like he was trying not to reach for something. you. the air. anything.

you didn’t say anything else. just watched him. waited. the way you always did when he needed time to think. and finally, si-eun looked up. looked at you.

“come here.”

your chest squeezed. you didn’t know what he meant, not exactly — but you moved anyway. toward him. slow. unsure. your knees touched his first. then your legs slid between his. your hands hovered. you didn’t know where to put them. he fixed that for you.

si-eun reached out, and gently — like he’d been imagining this for a long time — he cupped your face. his palm was warm. steady. your skin lit up under his fingers.

he looked at you like he was memorizing you. like he didn’t know whether to pull back or fall forward. and maybe, for the first time in all the years you’d known him, he looked a little unsure.

but his voice didn’t shake. “i’ll show you once,” he said, low. “but after that… you don’t get to pretend you don’t know what you’re doing anymore.” you nodded.

his mouth met yours slowly, at first. like he was testing it — testing you — making sure you wouldn't flinch, wouldn’t pull away once you realized this wasn’t just about helping you anymore. this wasn’t about being smart, or useful, or your reliable best friend. this was him giving in to a thought he shouldn’t have had in the first place.

you didn’t move for the first second. you just felt it. how warm his lips were. how firm. how careful he was, like he was afraid one wrong angle might make you disappear. and then he tilted his head just slightly, hand still cradling your cheek, and kissed you deeper.

and you made a sound — a soft, breathy sound in the back of your throat — that made him freeze. just for a moment. like hearing you respond flipped something in him he hadn’t meant to turn on.

his other hand came up, resting at the side of your neck, and his thumb brushed over the pulse there. and you didn’t even realize you were leaning into him until your knees were bracketing his thighs and your fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt.

“you’re shaking,” he murmured, against your mouth.

“you kissed me,” you breathed back.

he huffed something between a laugh and a groan, thumb dragging lightly across your bottom lip as he pulled back a fraction — just enough to look at you.

“this was your idea.”

“you said just once.”

“do you want me to stop?”

you stared at him, he looked calm, too calm. again. but his eyes — his eyes were glassy, his breath unsteady, and you could feel it in the way his hands stayed on your skin like he didn’t want to let go.

you shook your head, slow. “no.”

his jaw flexed, and then he kissed you again, hungrier. no more holding back. no more waiting. the second his mouth opened over yours, you felt your whole body react — your stomach tightening, thighs pressing in, heart stuttering out of rhythm.

his tongue slid past your lips, coaxing yours to move, to respond, and gosh — gosh — the low sound he made when you kissed him back with more pressure, more curiosity, more want —

you’d never heard that from him before.

your hands were in his hair before you could think about it, fingers digging in as he pulled you closer, mouth hot and desperate now. he shifted beneath you, letting you settle fully in his lap, your knees on either side of his hips — and when your bodies pressed flush like that, you both gasped into the kiss at the same time.

his grip tightened on your waist. “fuck,” he muttered, lips dragging down to your jaw, your neck. “you don’t even know what you’re doing to me.”

“then show me,” you whispered. “teach me.” he let out a shaky breath. like he was barely hanging on.

“you have no idea what you’re asking for.” but his hands were already sliding beneath your shirt, and you weren’t stopping him.

his fingers slid under your shirt, slow and tentative, careful not to make any sudden movements as if you were something delicate. you weren’t sure why your body trembled at his touch — it was barely anything, just skin grazing skin, the slightest warmth over your waist — but somehow it made you feel stripped raw.

like you were finally standing on the edge of something you’d only ever dared to imagine. you didn’t stop him. you tilted your head instead, offering more of your throat, and his mouth found the hollow there — gentle, reverent, teeth barely brushing.

his palms flattened, spanning across your hips, feeling the rise and fall of your breath like he was memorizing it. “you okay?” he asked you softly, voice lower than usual, hoarse at the edges.

you nodded. “yeah.” he paused, like he was giving you space to change your mind. “you’re sure?” your fingers curled around his wrists, holding him to you. grounding him. “I trust you.”

and that must’ve been all he needed. because something in him cracked. a quiet breaking, not a loud one, like ice melting, like something long-contained finally spilling over.

his mouth was back on yours with a hunger that hadn’t been there before, lips parting yours open, tongue licking into your mouth with purpose. he kissed you like he’d been waiting a lifetime. kissed you like this was all he’d ever wanted but never believed he could have.

and when his hips rolled up against yours, you felt it — him. hard beneath his sweats, thick and undeniable, pressing right where you were already aching. your breath caught. your legs tensed around his sides. you whimpered, just a little, and his forehead dropped to your shoulder with a guttural sound.

“fuck,” he muttered, voice low and shaken. “don’t do that.”

“what?” you breathed.

“make sounds like that. I—” his hands gripped your waist tighter. “i’m trying to go slow.”

you could feel your pulse everywhere now. your thighs clenched again, instinctively, seeking friction. “you want to stop?” he asked, a final out, even now, even with the way his body trembled.

you shook your head. “no. I don’t want to stop.” he lifted his head. his eyes were dark, lashes fluttering slightly like he was holding back something deeper. “do you want me to be your first?”

your answer came in a whisper. “yes.”

he kissed you once more, slower this time. then reached beside the bed, into the drawer, and when he pulled out a condom, you blinked.

“you just… have that?”

his mouth twitched. not quite a smile. “su-ho gave it to me.”

“as a joke?”

“he said something stupid. like, about how I need to ‘get laid before I die cause my pen doesn't work anymore’ or something.”

you laughed, despite yourself. and si-eun’s eyes softened.

“but now,” he said, voice turning quiet again, “i’m glad I have it.”

he rolled it on carefully. you watched, heart pounding, seeing him fully now for the first time. long and thick, flushed at the tip, already leaking. your mouth went dry.

you hadn’t seen a guy naked before, let alone like this, aroused, ready. you swallowed hard, thighs tightening. your whole body ached with nerves and want.

“you okay?” he asked again, brushing hair from your face. “yeah,” you managed. “just… new.”

he leaned down and kissed your temple. “then we’ll go slow.”

he pulled your shorts and underwear down in one motion, so gently it felt like a question. you lifted your hips, let him slide the fabric away, suddenly aware of the cool air on your exposed skin, the vulnerability of being bare in front of someone for the first time. but he didn’t leer. didn’t stare. he looked at you like you were something to be honored. something sacred.

his fingers slid between your legs, testing. your whole body jerked at the first touch — light pressure over your clit that made your thighs twitch.

“you’re already wet,” he said, breath catching. “fuck. you’re soaking.”

your face burned. “sorry—”

“don’t apologize,” he said quickly. “that’s good. that’s so good.”

he dipped one finger lower, easing it into you slowly. you gasped at the stretch. even that was new. he stilled, letting your body adjust, whispering, “breathe,” as he stroked your inner walls gently.

once you relaxed, he added another, curling his fingers, spreading you open with deliberate care. the sound of your slick filled the space between you — wet, soft, real. when he pressed his thumb back to your clit, circling it gently, your hips jolted, and you whined.

“you’re doing so good,” he whispered. “so fucking good.”

your eyes fluttered shut, body rocking helplessly against his hand. when his fingers finally slipped away, you felt empty. needy. but then he was positioning himself, cock brushing against your entrance.

“deep breath,” he murmured. “i’ll go slow.”

and he did.

the first push was the hardest. you tensed without meaning to, your cunt clenching, breath hitching — but he paused, whispered to you again, and let your body guide him.

once you opened up, he eased in deeper. your fingers clawed at his shoulders, trying to hold onto something. the stretch burned. it was full, unrelenting, almost too much.

he was big. bigger than you’d expected. and still he moved gently, carefully, until his hips were flush with yours and you’d taken all of him.

“jesus christ,” he breathed, shaking. “you feel—so tight. so fucking perfect.”

you exhaled shakily. “you’re big.”

he chuckled softly, forehead pressing to yours. “you’re doing amazing.”

he didn’t move right away. just kissed your cheek, your collarbone, brushing his nose against your skin like he was grounding himself.

your walls fluttered around him, already adjusting, and when he finally started to thrust — slow and shallow — it knocked the air from your lungs.

each movement was controlled. each drag of his cock inside you purposeful. he hit deeper with every rock of his hips, and it didn’t take long before your body began to want it.

your breath hitched. your fingers dug in. you let out a moan — small, involuntary — and si-eun groaned. “fuck. that sound.”

you tilted your hips toward him instinctively, seeking more, and he took the cue. he rolled his hips, found a rhythm. and when he shifted slightly — angled deeper — you cried out.

“right there?”

you nodded helplessly. “si-eun—please—”

his hand found your clit again, rubbing you just right while he fucked you through slow, deep strokes. your head fell back. the tension was building fast now, tight, molten, dizzying. your cunt squeezed around him with every thrust, every perfect touch.

and then you broke. your orgasm hit like a tidal wave, rushing through your body, stealing your breath, leaving you writhing beneath him. your cunt fluttered around his cock, milking him, and that’s what pushed him over.

he groaned your name, voice wrecked, and fucked into you one last time, deep and hard. you felt him twitch, felt the heat of him spill into the condom as he came, hips stuttering, body pressed tight to yours, jaw clenched.

you collapsed into each other, breathless and shaking, his arms wrapping around you like he couldn’t bear to let you go. neither of you spoke for a while. but eventually, he kissed your shoulder and whispered, “you’re mine now, you know.”

and you smiled, because you already were. you didn’t know how long the silence stretched between you after it was over, only that you didn’t want to move from the warmth of his body or the way his arms had circled around you so tightly, like he was afraid you’d slip away.

his breath was still a little uneven against your skin, his chest rising and falling against your back now that he’d pulled you into a side hold, your legs tangled under the sheets and your heart still thudding softly in your chest.

he hadn’t said anything more since the last kiss he’d pressed to your shoulder. hadn’t asked how you were. hadn’t pulled away or shifted like he was finished with you.

he was just holding you.

you weren’t sure what came over you, but your fingers reached out and curled lightly into the soft fabric of his shirt, he’d pulled it on again after discarding the condom and wiping you up with the gentlest hands, like it was the most natural thing in the world to clean and dress you himself.

you hadn’t even realized how shy you felt until that part, but he hadn’t teased. hadn’t smirked. just murmured, “tell me if anything hurts, okay?” and you remembered thinking then, he really did think everything through. even now.

“you’re really quiet,” you whispered, voice still hoarse.

his arm tightened around your waist. “thinking.”

“about what?”

he paused for a beat, and then his voice came out low. “how lucky i am.”

you blinked.

your heart stuttered in a different way now, softer, almost painful. he wasn’t the type to say things like that. si-eun didn’t do grand confessions or obvious declarations. he always kept his feelings close to his chest. but now, lying here in the dim warmth of your room, the words felt like they’d slipped out before he could stop them.

you didn’t say anything back. just nudged your head gently under his chin and curled into him more fully.

and for the first time, you felt his lips brush your hair. not in a lustful way. not in a way that tried to start anything again. just quiet affection. soft. steady. like he didn’t want the moment to end either.

you don’t remember when you fell asleep, only that you woke up the next morning still in his arms.

he was already awake when you opened your eyes, blinking blearily against the sunlight seeping in through your curtains. his hair was a little messy, eyes on you like he’d been watching you for a while now, but not in a way that made you nervous. he looked.. calm. at peace. like maybe sleeping beside someone had made him rest easier than he had in years.

“morning,” he murmured, voice rough.

you smiled sleepily. “hi.”

he looked like he wanted to say something, then settled for brushing your cheek with the back of his hand. “you still good?”

“mmhmm.” you stretched slightly, muscles sore but not unpleasantly so. “better than good.”

he looked relieved. and then, like something clicked in his head, he muttered, “wait—class. what time is it?”

“we have plenty of time,” you said, laughing softly. “I always set an early alarm.”

he groaned and flopped back beside you, an arm thrown over his eyes. “you’re too responsible.”

“well, you need me to keep you on track.”

you hadn’t meant it to come out so naturally, but the second you said it, you felt his hand drop from his face and his eyes meet yours again. and not that heavy, unblinking stare you used to catch him slipping into when he thought no one noticed.

his eyes had always carried something haunted in them, ever since the day you met. something fractured, a little hollow, like he’d learned too early that the world could betray you if you weren’t ready for it.

but this morning, it was different. you didn’t notice it right away. it was in the tiny shift. the way his gaze warmed instead of hardened. how he blinked slower, more at ease, like the knots in his chest had loosened overnight. you stared at him for a long second, trying to trace what had changed — and then you realized.

the sadness was still there. maybe it always would be. but it wasn’t all-consuming anymore. not sharp. not cold. there was something softer behind his eyes now.

something that bloomed quiet and tender, like spring cracking through frost. and for the first time, he didn’t look like he was fighting himself just to be here. he looked like he wanted to be.

you leaned in, pressing a chaste kiss to his cheek. “you’re different today.”

he raised a brow. “already?”

“I mean it in a good way,” you said. “your eyes don’t look sad.”

he was quiet for a second, then laughed under his breath. “maybe it’s because you kissed me back.”

“maybe it’s because I let you fuck me.”

he turned to face you fully, lips twitching into a smirk now, but not cocky. still fond. “both.”

you rolled your eyes and shoved at him lightly. he caught your hand. and then he said, “can I take you somewhere today?”

you blinked. “what do you mean?”

“after class. I wanna take you out. just us.”

your heart flipped a little. “a date?”

he nodded.

“okay,” you whispered. “i’d really like that.”

the walk to campus that morning felt strangely new, even though it was the same sidewalk you took every morning. the sun was a little too bright, your bag slung too casually over your shoulder, and si-eun was right beside you — hands in his pockets, that unreadable expression on his face that made most people wary of him.

but not you. not anymore. not with the way his pinky kept brushing yours on purpose as you walked. not with the way he leaned in to murmur, “you’re sure you’re not sore?” while your classmates were still ten feet behind.

and definitely not with the way you glanced up and saw it again — that look in his eyes. no longer cold, no longer cracked, still intense, still si-eun.

but clearer, softer, like he could breathe a little easier. like you were the first thing he’d ever let soften him. and god, you wanted to protect that softness for as long as he’d let you.

SUHO

BAKU

GOTAK

JUNTAE

SEONGJE

BAEKJIN

-

The classroom door slid open, and you stepped inside. The teacher barely looked up, muttering, “Find a seat,” before turning back to the board. No introduction. No explanation. Just the shuffle of chairs and the weight of eyes following you. You didn’t mind. You’d lived through this before. Silence was your world, and you carried it without apology. You walked to the back, the scrape of your chair loud in the hush. A boy in front of you whispered to his friend, lips forming the words “new girl.” You kept your eyes on the board. You’d learned not to care. At lunch, your small circle of friends waved you over. Hana tapped your shoulder lightly before speaking, her smile warm. “How was it? First class?” Hana smiled wide You shrugged, pulling out your notebook. Your pen moved quickly: No intro. Just sat down. Minji leaned in, laughing softly as she scribbled back: Better that way. Less awkward. You grinned. This was your rhythm — notes passed across the table, taps on the shoulder, gestures that spoke louder than words. You didn’t feel left out. You’d built your own way of living, and it worked.

Later, in class, you watched lips carefully, catching fragments. The teacher’s words blurred sometimes, but you’d trained yourself to fill in the gaps. It wasn’t heavy. It wasn’t tragic. It was normal. Being deaf wasn’t something you hid; it was simply yours. Your silence, your way of seeing the world. People expected it to be a burden, but it wasn’t. Silence didn’t mean emptiness. It meant noticing things others missed — the way someone’s shoulders tensed before they spoke, the flicker of hesitation in their eyes.

After school, the courtyard was half-empty, the sky fading into soft orange. You sat with Hana and Minji on the steps, your hands moving in fluid rhythm. Fingers brushed the air, quick gestures, laughter spilling in silent waves. To anyone else, it might look like a secret code. To you, it was simply a conversation — natural, effortless. Yeon Sieun noticed. He always did. From the classroom window, or leaning against the railing, his sharp eyes caught the way your hands danced, the way your friends leaned in, smiling without sound. He didn’t intrude. He never did. But he watched, quietly, as if the silence itself was something worth protecting. In class, he’d catch it again — the way Hana tapped your desk before whispering, the way you tilted your head, reading lips with precision. Small things. Ordinary things. Yet to him, they were fascinating. One afternoon, Minji signed something that made you laugh — shoulders shaking, eyes bright. Sieun’s gaze lingered longer than usual. He didn’t understand the words, but he understood the warmth. The way silence carried joy. The way your world seemed whole, even without sound. He found it precious. Not in a way that made him pity you, but in a way that made him curious, almost reverent. There was strength in the way you lived, in the way you carved out connection without needing voices. And so, he kept his distance. Watching from the back of the classroom, from the edge of the hallway, from the quiet corners where he belonged. He didn’t speak to you yet. But in his silence, there was recognition — a quiet fascination that grew each time your hands moved, each time your laughter lit up without a sound.

You were used to stares. The kind that lingered too long, the kind that carried curiosity or pity, the kind that made you feel like a puzzle someone wanted to solve. Being deaf meant people often looked at you as if you were strange, as if silence was something unnatural. You’d learned to ignore it, to keep your world small and steady. But lately, you’d begun to notice him. Yeon Si-eun. It wasn’t constant, but sometimes, when you lifted your head in class, his eyes were already there. Watching. Not in the way others did — not sharp with judgment, not heavy with pity. His gaze didn’t speak that language. It was quieter, steadier.

One afternoon, you caught him again. You’d been laughing with Hana and Minji, your hands moving in quick signs, shoulders shaking with silent joy. When you glanced up, Si-eun was leaning back in his chair, eyes fixed on you. He didn’t look away, didn’t pretend he hadn’t been staring. His expression was unreadable, but it wasn’t cruel. It wasn’t mocking. You felt a flicker of confusion. Why does he look at me like that? You knew the difference. You’d lived long enough to recognize when someone saw you as “different.” But his eyes didn’t carry that weight. They were… curious, yes, but softer. Almost fascinated. As if the silence you lived in wasn’t something broken, but something worth noticing. You turned back to your friends, pretending not to care. But the thought lingered. His gaze stayed with you, even after the moment passed.

—-

At home, Sieun sat at his desk, textbooks open but forgotten. His laptop screen glowed faintly in the dim room. He wasn’t studying math or history tonight. Instead, he typed slowly: basic sign language. Videos played, hands moving in deliberate rhythm. He watched closely, rewinding, repeating. His own fingers mimicked the shapes, stiff at first, awkward. He frowned, tried again. It wasn’t easy, but he kept at it. Something about you had caught him — not just the way you looked, though he couldn’t deny you were beautiful. It was deeper. The way you carried silence, as if it weren’t a burden. The way your laughter lit up without sound. Inside, you were even more beautiful, and he didn’t know how to name the feeling that stirred in him. It was fast, too fast. He’d never felt this before. It unsettled him, but he liked it. He leaned back in his chair, staring at his hands. Why am I doing this? he thought. But the answer was already there. Because of you.

There were moments in school where just looks lingered. You were across the room, head bent over your notebook, pen moving steadily. Hana leaned in, whispering something, and you signed back quickly, your hands brushing the air with ease. Sieun’s eyes found you without meaning to. And then, as if you felt it, your gaze lifted. For a heartbeat, your eyes met his. It wasn’t long, just a flicker. But it was enough. The boys sprawled on the steps, voices rising and falling. Baku laughed too loudly, and another shoved his shoulder, the usual chaos. Sieun sat a little apart, his gaze drifting. You were nearby with your friends, hands moving in quick signs, laughter spilling in silent rhythm. The late afternoon light painted everything gold — the edges of your hair, the curve of your smile, the flicker of your hands. Again, your eyes found his. Quick, fleeting. But this time, you didn’t look away immediately. The air felt different. The courtyard noise dulled, replaced by the quiet awareness between you. The breeze carried the faint scent of autumn leaves, and the sky stretched wide and pale. It was ordinary, but in that moment, it felt like something rare. Sieun’s chest tightened. He didn’t know how to feel about it, didn’t know what this was. But he liked it. He liked it more than he wanted to admit.

—-

The classroom was quiet after the bell; most students were already gone. You stayed behind, sliding books into your bag with deliberate care. Silence was normal for you, but here it felt heavier, stretched across the empty room. When you looked up, Yeon Sieun was still there. You caught him staring again. You hesitated, unsure whether to acknowledge it. But then he moved. Slowly, deliberately, he walked over.

He stopped a step away, not too close, not too far. His lips parted, but then he seemed to think better of it. Instead, he raised his hand — awkward, hesitant — and signed something simple. Hello. Your eyes widened. It wasn’t perfect, the motion stiff, but it was unmistakable. He’d tried. You blinked, then signed back, Hello. For a moment, neither of you spoke. The silence between you wasn’t uncomfortable. It was… curious. Finally, he spoke, his voice low, careful. “I’ve seen you… with your friends. The way you talk.” “It’s… different. But not weird. Just… interesting.”

You studied him, searching his face for the usual flicker of pity, the shadow of judgment. There was none. His eyes were steady, almost fascinated. You signed slowly, lips moving with the words: You watched. He nodded once: “Yeah.”

You weren’t sure what to make of it. You’d grown used to people looking at you like you were strange, like silence was something broken. But his gaze didn’t speak that way. It was different. You signed again, small, deliberate: Why? He didn’t answer right away. His silence stretched, but it wasn’t empty. Finally, he said quietly: “Because it feels… precious.” The words hung between you, heavier than the quiet. You didn’t know what to say. So you didn’t. You just looked at him, and for the first time, you felt seen — not as someone unusual, not as someone lacking, but as someone whole.

---

The hallway was crowded, then it happened — a shove. Someone’s shoulder slammed into yours, hard enough to knock your books from your arms. Pages scattered across the floor. You froze, the sudden chaos disorienting. You couldn’t hear the words being thrown around, but you saw the mouths moving, the sneers, the laughter.

The shove knocked you against the lockers, books scattering across the floor. Before you could steady yourself, Sieun was there — his hand gripping the shoulder of the boy who’d pushed you, his voice low and sharp. “Enough.” Sieun said. The word cut through the noise, but the boys didn’t back down. Instead, their laughter twisted into something harder. “What’s it to you, huh? Protecting the new kid?” one of the guys said. “You think you’re better than us, Sieun?”

They stepped closer, crowding him now. One shoved his chest, another sneered. The hallway thickened with tension, students slowing to watch. You froze, clutching your books, heart pounding. You’d seen fights before, but this was different. Sieun didn’t flinch. His eyes stayed cold, steady, even as they pushed him back against the lockers. “Stay out of it.” one of them said. Another shove. This time, Sieun staggered slightly, his jaw tightening. He didn’t raise his fists, not yet — but the air around him felt dangerous, like a storm about to break. And then, at the right moment, a voice cut through. “Hey!” Baku raised his voice. The crowd shifted as Baku strode in, his presence loud even before he spoke. He shoved one of the boys aside with casual force, his grin sharp. “You really want to try that with him?” he spoke. The bullies faltered. Baku’s reputation preceded him — reckless, fearless, the kind of fighter no one wanted to test. His energy filled the hallway, chaotic but commanding. “Tch… whatever.” said one of the guys. They backed off, muttering, their bravado dissolving under Baku’s glare. The tension broke, the crowd dispersing. Sieun straightened, brushing off his shoulder. His eyes flicked to you, steady, protective. He didn’t say anything, but the silence between you carried weight. Baku clapped him on the back, laughing. “Always picking fights, huh? Good thing I showed up.” Sieun didn’t answer, but his gaze lingered on you. For the first time, you realized — he hadn’t just stepped in because of the bullies. He’d stepped in because of you.

---

The gym echoed with sneakers squeaking and the thud of a basketball. Gotak tossed the ball lazily toward Baku, grinning. “Bet you can’t even make that shot.” His tone was teasing, light, the kind of challenge he threw out just to stir trouble. Baku caught the ball with a scoff, his voice loud and brash. “Watch me, idiot.” He spun it once in his hands, swaggering in every movement. Gotak smirked, “You’ll miss. You always miss.” His words were dry, delivered with that quiet sarcasm that always made the others laugh. Their laughter bounced around the gym, sharp and carefree. Then Baku’s eyes flicked toward you, sitting off to the side, tying your shoes. He raised his voice, calling across the space. “Hey! New girl!” Nothing. You didn’t move, didn’t look up. Gotak chuckled, shaking his head. “She didn’t hear you.” His tone was amused, as if it were just another joke. “Nah, watch,” Baku muttered, already jogging over. He tapped your shoulder, grinning. “We were saying—come on, you should join us, right?” His words spilled fast, too fast, his energy overwhelming. You startled, eyes wide. You tried to follow, tried to catch the shapes of his mouth, but the rhythm slipped away. Confusion flickered across your face. You shook your head slightly, not because you didn’t want to answer, but because you couldn’t. Baku froze, his grin faltering. “Uh… never mind.” His voice dropped, awkward now. He scratched the back of his neck, stepping back. “Sorry. Forget it.” He walked back to the group, his tone lower, uneasy. “Weird. I don’t know… She didn’t want to talk. Did I say something wrong?” Gotak shrugged, still half-smiling, but uncertain. Juntae, for a second, guessed it in his head as he observed the moment just now. Sieun’s voice was calm, steady, cutting through the confusion. “She’s deaf.” The words landed heavily. Gotak blinked. Juntae’s mouth opened, then closed. Baku’s eyes widened, realization dawning. “Oh… damn. I didn’t know.” His voice was softer now, guilt edging into it.

Later, during free time, Si-eun gathered the boys in the corner of the classroom. His voice was low, steady, commanding enough that they listened. “Stop shouting. It doesn’t work like that.” Gotak frowned. “Then what do we do?” Sieun lifted his hands, signing slowly. Hello. His movements were deliberate, careful. The boys stared. Baku blinked. “Wait… you know this?” Sieun’s gaze was sharp. “I’ve been learning.” He showed them again, breaking down the motions. His fingers moved with quiet precision, his expression unreadable but focused. Juntae tried first, his hands stiff, awkward. “Like this?” Si-eun shook his head, corrected him. “Slower.” Gotak laughed, fumbling through the signs. “Man, I feel like an idiot.” Baku grinned, stubborn. “No, we’re gonna get this. Watch.” He practiced, his movements clumsy but determined.

As the time passed by, Gotak was waving his arms around dramatically, his hands moving in shapes that barely resembled signs. “No, no, it’s like this!” he insisted, his voice echoing, full of exaggerated confidence. Juntae groaned, his tone dry. “You look like you’re swatting flies.” He tried the motion himself, slower, but his fingers tangled awkwardly.

“Man, we’re hopeless. How do you even remember all this?” Baku was doubled over laughing, his grin wide. He tried again, his hands crooked, his movements too fast.

“Slower. Watch carefully.” Sieun’s voice was low, calm. His hands moved with quiet precision, deliberate and steady. He corrected Juntae’s fingers, adjusted Gotak’s rhythm, and slowed Baku down. The boys groaned, laughed, and tried again. Their energy was chaotic, clumsy, but underneath it was something earnest. They weren’t mocking. They were learning.

Gotak finally managed a proper thank you, his grin triumphant. “See? I got it!” Juntae rolled his eyes, muttering, “Barely.” Baku puffed his chest out, signing friend with crooked fingers. “Nailed it.” Si-eun didn’t laugh. He just corrected them again, his expression unreadable but his eyes steady. They spent the free period stumbling through basic signs — hello, thank you, friend. Their laughter filled the room, but underneath it was something genuine.

---

You were sitting with Hana and Minji on the steps outside, the late afternoon light painting everything gold. Your hands moved in easy rhythm, signing back and forth, laughter spilling silently between you. It was ordinary, familiar. Then shadows fell across the ground. You looked up. Gotak, Juntae, and Baku stood there, grinning in their usual way. But instead of calling out, Gotak lifted his hands. His movements were clumsy, exaggerated, but unmistakable. Hello. Your eyes widened. Juntae followed, his expression serious for once, his fingers stiff but deliberate. Friend. And then Baku, grinning like he always did, signed crookedly, his motions too fast but full of energy. Play? For a moment, you froze. The world seemed to still — the chatter of other students fading, the breeze holding its breath. You stared at them, startled, your chest tightening. Then it hit you. They’d learned this. For you. Your lips parted, and before you could stop yourself, laughter bubbled out — silent, shoulders shaking, eyes bright. It wasn’t perfect, their signs were messy, but it was an effort. It was theirs. Hana nudged you, smiling knowingly. Minji’s eyes softened. The boys laughed too, awkward but proud. Gotak scratched his head, muttering, “See? Told you I could do it.” Juntae rolled his eyes, but his smirk betrayed him. Baku puffed his chest out, grinning. “Knew I’d nail it.” You signed back, slowly, deliberately: Thank you. They paused, then tried to mimic it, stumbling over the motions. Their laughter filled the air again, but this time it wasn’t careless. It was warm. And behind them, Sieun stood a little apart. Your gaze met his. His eyes didn’t carry pity, didn’t carry curiosity. They carried something quieter, something deeper. Recognition. Admiration. You looked away first, your cheeks warm, but the feeling stayed.

---

Over time, the boys became part of your life in ways you hadn’t expected. What started as awkward attempts to include you turned into something real. Gotak’s endless teasing, Juntae’s dry sarcasm, Baku’s loud energy — they were chaos, but they were good chaos. They filled the spaces around you with laughter, gestures, and warmth. Even when their signs were clumsy, they kept trying, and you found yourself laughing more than you ever thought you would. Gym class became less intimidating, lunch breaks louder, and after‑school walks more crowded. They were reckless, noisy, sometimes exhausting — but they were yours. Friends who didn’t treat your silence as distance, but as part of the rhythm of the group. And always, somewhere in the background, Si‑eun. Watching, steady, quiet. His presence was different. He didn’t need to fill the air with noise. He simply stayed close, his silence carrying weight. ---

The street was quiet, the hum of the streetlights soft above you. You walked side by side with Si‑eun, the silence between you no longer heavy, but charged with something unspoken. You glanced at him, uncertain. His expression was calm, unreadable, but his presence felt heavier than words.

You signed slowly, lips moving with the words: Why do you always watch me? He looked at you, eyes steady. For a moment, he didn’t answer. Then his voice came, low and deliberate. “Because you’re different. Not in the way people think. In the way you carry yourself.” You frowned, signing again: Different? His gaze didn’t waver. “You don’t try to be seen. But you are. Even in silence.” The words settled between you, heavier than the quiet. You felt your chest tighten, unsure how to respond.

You signed softly: I thought you were staring because I was strange. “Not strange. Beautiful.” His voice was quiet, almost hesitant, but certain. “Outside, yes. But inside… even more.” You stopped walking, startled. The streetlight above flickered, casting shadows across his face. His eyes held yours, steady, unflinching. For a heartbeat, the world felt still — no noise, no chaos, just the two of you in the quiet. You signed slowly, deliberately: I don’t know what to say. He gave the faintest hint of a smile. “You don’t have to.”

The two of you walked side by side through the streets. Sieun’s heart was pounding so hard he thought it might break through his chest. He had never felt this before — not this fast, not this strong. Every step beside you on the quiet street felt heavier, every glance at you sharper. He didn’t know if you liked him back. He didn’t know if he was about to ruin everything. But he couldn’t hold it in anymore. He stopped walking, his breath catching. You turned toward him, confused, the glow of the streetlight soft against your face. His hands twitched at his sides, restless, his gaze flicking away and back again.

Do it, he told himself. Just once.

He stepped closer, his hand brushing yours — tentative, trembling. His chest tightened, nerves twisting inside him. And then, gathering every ounce of courage, he leaned in. The kiss was soft, hesitant, almost fragile. His lips pressed against yours gently, as if afraid you might pull away. For him, it was terrifying — his heart racing, his breath uneven, the fear of rejection clawing at him. But it was also a release, a quiet surrender to the feeling he couldn’t name but couldn’t ignore. For you, the moment was startling, but not unwelcome. The warmth of his lips, the trembling in his touch, the vulnerability in his closeness — it all carried something deeper than words. You felt his nervousness, his uncertainty, but also his sincerity. When he pulled back, his eyes searched yours, wide and uncertain.  And then, still nervous, his hands lifted. His fingers moved slowly, stiff but deliberate.

I like you.

The sign was imperfect, his movements a little shaky, but the meaning was clear. His eyes stayed on yours, vulnerable, unflinching despite the fear.