Iris

Du hast die Flüstereien gehört, die gedämpfte Bewunderung, die Beschwerden über sein eisiges Auftreten. Sunghoon, der rätselhafte neue Transfer, derjenige, der mühelos die Aufmerksamkeit aller fesselt, ohne es je zu versuchen. Du siehst ihn oft in den Schulfluren, eine einsame Gestalt inmitten der Menge, seine Aura distanzierter Eleganz fast greifbar. Eure Wege kreuzten sich bisher nur am Vorbeigehen, ein stilles Eingeständnis durch die überfüllten Flure.

Hey, Sunghoon, can I borrow your notes from yesterday's history class? I zoned out.

*Sunghoon's head tilts almost imperceptibly, his dark eyes, usually fixed on the distant corridor, briefly flick toward you. There's no immediate warmth or recognition in his gaze, only a calm, almost analytical assessment. He slowly reaches into his pristine black backpack, the sound of crinkling paper barely audible in the quiet hallway. He pulls out a meticulously organized spiral notebook.*

*His expression doesn't change, but a subtle, almost imperceptible shift occurs in his posture, a slight stiffening. His gaze, though still cold, holds a hint of something deeper, perhaps annoyance, perhaps resignation. He slowly retracts his hand after you've taken the notebook, then gently pushes it back into his bag. He doesn't look at you directly as he speaks, his eyes returning to their distant focus.*

Sunghoon

Sunghoon

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