The morning after the viral post, the world felt different. My footsteps echoed too loudly in the hallway, the whispers louder than ever, though Hwan claimed he didn't hear them. I didn't care anymore. Not really. Today's challenge wasn't the gossip — it was Eun Ji.
I spotted her near the lockers, headphones in, her notebook clutched against her chest. She didn't notice me at first, or maybe she chose not to. I hesitated. Usually, I would have walked right past — new girls didn't often stick around. But this one was different.
Hwan nudged me. "You're staring. Go say something before I convince her you're some stalker."
I shot him a look. "I can handle this."
Which was a lie.
I walked over, careful to appear casual, although my stomach betrayed me with every step. "Hey, Eun Ji," I said, keeping my voice neutral.
Her eyes flicked up briefly, then returned to her notebook. "Hi," she replied softly, barely above a whisper.
I exhaled internally. Not much of a conversation, but it was something. Small victories, right?
"You're quiet," I added. Too soon, too casual. "All the time."
She didn't flinch. "I like it that way. Less noise."
I blinked, momentarily taken aback. Most girls my age would have laughed or blushed, or at least tossed some teasing remark at me. Not Eun Ji. She didn't care about my reputation, my jokes, or the whispers. She cared about… nothing, apparently.
Hwan, somewhere behind me, snorted. I ignored him.
The bell rang, dragging us toward class, and I couldn't shake the thought: she's real. Not a game. Not someone I can charm away with a smile.
Homecoming
After school, I trudged home, the city's late afternoon sun spilling across the streets. The golden light felt heavy, like it was pressing secrets into the asphalt. My father was already home, grading documents at the dining table, eyebrows furrowed. My mother was at the stove, humming softly, her apron tied perfectly around her waist.
"Han Joon," my father said without looking up. "Your grades are slipping again. Is this the loverboy lifestyle finally catching up to you?"
I swallowed. "I'm working on it."
He didn't respond. He never did. Silence was his preferred punishment.
My mother set a cup of tea beside me. "Don't let it get to you, dear. You'll figure it out," she said quietly.
I wanted to say something, anything, but the words caught in my throat. She meant well, but we were always a little apart — separate islands in the same house.
I moved to my room, dumping my bag on the floor, and stared at my phone. Eun Ji's calm, detached manner haunted me. She isn't like the others.
I thought back to the viral post — Seo Min. She had a way of exposing cracks I hadn't noticed. Her words lingered, sharper than any teacher's criticism or fatherly reprimand: "Some boys love everyone but no one."
I felt the truth in them, deep down. Maybe she was right. Maybe I hadn't loved anyone, not really.
Next Day at School
The next morning, I found her again — Eun Ji, perched by the window, scribbling in her notebook. I tried to keep my distance, but curiosity, that stubborn itch, drew me closer.
During the first break, I finally had a moment to talk.
"So," I began, leaning against the wall, careful not to seem too eager. "Do you… notice anything around here?"
She raised an eyebrow, flicking her pen in a slow, deliberate rhythm. "Notice? Like what?"
"Like… me. Everyone notices me, but you don't. You're the only one who seems to care about… nothing."
A corner of her mouth twitched — a faint, almost imperceptible smile. "Maybe I just don't like noise."
I laughed softly. Not my practiced, flirty laugh, but a quieter one. "Fair enough. But I like noise. Usually."
Her gaze softened slightly. "You don't seem like most people."
There it was. A crack. A small one, but it was there. A crack in my carefully constructed world of charm and performance.
I wanted to ask more, to press, but the bell rang, pulling us both toward class.
Lunchtime and Observation
I found my usual spot in the cafeteria, but my attention kept drifting to her table. Eun Ji wasn't eating alone, but she wasn't social either. Just a few classmates, quiet conversation, shared glances, and the occasional chuckle. Nothing dramatic, nothing staged.
Hwan plopped down beside me, tray clattering. "So, are you going to do it?"
"Do what?" I asked, feigning innocence.
"You know. Talk to her properly. Not charm, not jokes. Just… be normal. See what that feels like."
I swallowed. "Normal? That's terrifying."
He smirked. "Exactly. That's why you should do it."
A Small Connection
After lunch, the afternoon dragged through tedious lectures and group activities. I couldn't focus. Every time my notebook opened, I scribbled her name in the margin. Every glance out the window reminded me of her quiet presence.
Finally, during the last period, I found an opportunity. A small project assignment paired us together.
"Looks like we're stuck," I said, smiling, trying not to overplay it.
Eun Ji didn't smile. "I don't mind," she said calmly.
I laughed, quietly, to myself. This was going to be harder than I thought. She wasn't impressed, she wasn't intimidated, she didn't react like the others. But that made her… real.
We worked in silence at first, her methodical pace contrasting with my jittery, sometimes chaotic notes. I realized I didn't have to impress her. I didn't have to perform. I could just… exist next to her. And for the first time, that felt okay.
Walking Home Together
School ended, and she packed her bag slowly. I stepped beside her as we left the building.
"You live nearby?" I asked, casually.
"Yes. A few blocks over," she said, not looking at me.
I glanced at her. Quiet, steady, unflinching. "Do you… mind if we walk together sometimes?"
Her pen had dropped from her bag, and as she bent down to pick it up, I felt a pang of something — anticipation, hope, curiosity.
"You can," she said, standing up again. Her gaze met mine briefly. A flicker of acknowledgment. Not a smile, not friendship, not warmth — just recognition.
And that was enough.
Reflection That Evening
By the time I got home, the sunset had cast long shadows across my room. I sank onto my bed, staring at the ceiling. Hwan's words echoed in my mind: See what normal feels like.
Maybe that was the lesson here. Maybe for the first time, I didn't have to perform. Maybe for the first time, I could try to understand what it meant to connect without the mask.
I pulled out my phone. No messages. No notifications. Just quiet. And that felt… promising.
I didn't know if this would last. I didn't know if Eun Ji would like me, or if I could even like her properly. But for the first time in a long while, I wanted it to.