The first twenty minutes of class went smoothly…
if "smoothly" meant I forgot how to breathe every time Jin Haejun moved.
Every tiny gesture he made felt strangely amplified.
The way he tucked a stray strand of hair behind his ear.
The way he quietly scribbled notes in neat handwriting.
The way he tapped his fingers lightly on his desk, in a rhythm only he understood.
The sparkles around him flickered with each movement, like soft green fireflies dancing.
I'd never seen anything like it.
My ability—seeing emotions as light—had always been predictable.
Watercolor swirls. Cloudy mists. Gentle pulses.
But this?
This was stardust.
I tried not to stare, I really did.
But every time I glanced sideways, there he was. Quiet but somehow shining.
A quiet gravity.
A silent melody.
Someone who wasn't trying to draw attention… but my attention kept drifting toward him anyway.
---
"Han Mirae."
I jerked up so fast I almost flung my pencil.
The teacher raised an eyebrow. "Since you seem very awake today… can you answer number three?"
Snickers spread across the class.
I blushed. "Ah—yes, sir."
I stood, explained the answer quickly, and sat down again.
When I did, I caught a pair of brown eyes watching me.
Haejun's.
He wasn't laughing.
He wasn't mocking.
He was simply… observing, curious.
For a second, our eyes met.
The sparkles around his heart fluttered — like someone had flicked them with a fingertip.
My breath hitched.
He immediately looked away, adjusting his hearing aid.
The sparkles settled back into their soft rhythm.
But that tiny flutter stayed in my chest.
---
When the bell rang for morning break, I practically shot up from my seat like a startled rabbit.
"G-gonna go get some water!" I muttered to no one in particular.
I wasn't even thirsty.
I just needed to breathe something that wasn't sparkling.
The hallway was blissfully calm. I pressed my palms to my cheeks, willing the heat away.
"He's just a boy," I whispered to myself. "A normal boy."
A normal boy with glowing, sparkling heart-light.
Great, Mirae. Very normal.
I sighed and leaned against a vending machine.
Two girls approached from the classroom and slowed when they saw me.
"That's her," one whispered. "The transfer girl."
"The one who bumped into Jin Haejun this morning?"
"Yeah. Look at her—she's shaking."
"I mean… wouldn't you? He's impossible to talk to."
I frowned.
Impossible?
Why?
Before I could think too much, footsteps approached.
Slow. Soft. Familiar.
I turned.
He was standing there.
Jin Haejun.
Holding his notebook, expression unreadable but eyes focused on me with quiet intent.
No sparkles flickered this time. They were calm—steady as a heartbeat.
He lifted a hand and signed something.
My brain froze completely.
I had no idea what the gesture meant.
He paused.
His lips twitched—somewhere between amusement and patience.
Then he took out his notebook, flipped to a page, and held it out.
"Are you okay?"
I nodded quickly. "Y-yeah! Just… needed some air."
He tilted his head slightly.
I didn't need glowing emotions to know he didn't believe me.
I sighed. "Okay, maybe I'm a little overwhelmed."
He slowly wrote something.
"Because of class?"
"…Also because I'm sitting next to you."
His head jerked up in surprise.
Realizing what I'd admitted, I slapped both hands over my mouth.
"I MEAN—NOT IN A BAD WAY—JUST—UH—YOU KNOW—YOU HAVE AN… uh… presence."
Oh my god. Kill me.
I wanted the floor to swallow me whole.
He stared at me for one very long moment.
Then—
A sound.
A soft huff of breath.
A laugh.
A tiny one, barely audible, but I heard it.
Well… I didn't exactly hear it.
It was more like I felt it—like the warmth of sunlight brushing skin.
His sparkles glimmered faintly, like shy starlight.
He glanced at the vending machine, then back at me.
He signed something again.
I blinked helplessly.
He waited, then pointed to the machine, then tapped his wrist like checking a watch.
"Oh! Break time?"
He nodded.
"Drink?"
He nodded again.
"You're asking if I want a drink?"
He shook his head and pointed at himself.
OH.
OHHHH.
"You want a drink?"
He nodded once.
I smacked the vending machine button like it personally offended me and bought him a green tea.
He accepted it with both hands.
Then wrote something in the notebook.
"Thank you. Sorry if speaking is hard when the classroom is loud."
Ah.
That made sense.
Around groups. In noisy spaces.
It must've been harder for him to tune in and make out sounds.
I felt a soft pang in my chest.
Not pity—
just understanding.
"That's okay," I said gently. "You can write. I can read."
He paused.
Then slowly wrote:
"You don't have to try so hard."
"I'm not trying hard," I said, smiling. "I'm just… talking."
He looked at me for a long moment.
Like he was studying me.
Like he couldn't decide if I was being sincere or just kind.
I turned away; his gaze was too intense.
Then suddenly—
His notebook nudged my elbow.
"Your handwriting is cute."
I froze.
WHAT!?
My handwriting?
CUTE?
His expression remained perfectly neutral.
But the sparkles around him flickered in soft amusement.
"Oh," I squeaked. "Th-thank you."
Silence.
Not awkward.
Just… soft.
Comfortable.
The bell rang again.
He gestured toward the classroom and waited for me to walk first.
The girls from before stared at us with wide eyes, whispering furiously.
Did he notice?
No.
Or maybe he didn't care.
We walked side by side back to class.
Halfway there, he tugged lightly on my sleeve.
When I turned, he held up his notebook.
One sentence.
One that made my heart skip so hard I almost tripped.
"Can we talk again later?"
My breath caught.
"Y-yes," I whispered.
His eyes softened.
The sparkles around him shimmered gently…
and for the first time,
they were warm enough to touch.