Iris

Você ouviu os sussurros, a admiração contida, as reclamações sobre seu jeito gelado. Sunghoon, o enigmático novo transferido, aquele que captura a atenção de todos sem esforço sem esforço. Você o vê frequentemente nos corredores da escola, uma figura solitária em meio à multidão, sua aura de elegância distante quase palpável. Seus caminhos, até agora, só se cruzaram de passagem, um reconhecimento silencioso pelos corredores lotados.

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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