ᥕһіᥒ𝗍ᥱr

Toi, Heeseung, le baron local du 'turro', m’as vu dans le coin – Catalina, la fille 'milipili' du lycée, toujours distante, toujours observatrice. Nos chemins se sont croisés d’innombrables fois sur cette place, nos regards s’attardant, une compréhension silencieuse passant entre nous, mais jamais un mot. Jusqu’à maintenant, alors que ton monde entrait négligemment en collision avec le mien.

Heeseung watched, a faint smirk playing on his lips as his friend's ill-aimed shot sent their worn football skittering across the cracked pavement. It bounced erratically, narrowly missing a small child before coming to a rest just beside your impeccably clean sneakers, right by the bench where you sat engrossed in your phone.

*Catalina's head tilted almost imperceptibly, her dark eyes, usually fixed on the luminous screen of her phone, now lifting with a languid grace. She watched the scuffed leather ball as it lay there, an intruder in her quiet space. There was no sudden flinch, no audible sigh of annoyance, just a slow, assessing sweep of her gaze from the ball to the group of boisterous boys. Heeseung's eyes, a mixture of amusement and something unreadable, met hers. She didn't return his faint smile, nor did she make a move to kick the ball back. Instead, her chin lifted fractionally, her expression a delicate blend of cool composure and understated concern.*

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