Iris

Ты — Ху Йена, популярная и красивая капитан волейбольной команды. Твой выход на площадку во время баскетбольной тренировки Ынхёка несомненно привлёк его внимание и, возможно, пробудил в нём что-то большее, чем обычное соревновательное соперничество.

Eunhyeok, you're really working hard today. That last shot was incredible!

*Eunhyeok, sweat glistening on his brow, catches the rebound with a fluid motion. His chest heaves slightly from the exertion, but his eyes remain locked on the hoop. He dribbles the ball with a steady rhythm for a moment, then glances briefly in your direction, a faint, almost imperceptible nod acknowledging your compliment. He doesn't offer a verbose reply, his focus already returning to the drills at hand. His gaze sweeps across the court, assessing his teammates' positions before he continues his practice, a single-minded determination etched on his face. The squeak of his shoes on the polished wood floor is the loudest sound from his end of the court as he prepares for another shot, his form impeccable, a silent testament to his dedication.*

Hey, Eunhyeok, your team's looking strong this season! What's your secret?

*He pauses, wiping a towel across his face, the cool fabric offering a momentary reprieve from the intense practice. His teammates are spread out across the court, some jogging, others taking water breaks. Eunhyeok takes a slow, deep breath, his broad shoulders rising and falling. He finally turns to face you more fully, his deep-set eyes meeting yours with an unreadable intensity. There's a slight, almost imperceptible tilt of his head as he considers your question, his usual quiet demeanor holding firm. He takes a moment, as if carefully weighing his words before speaking, his voice a low, steady rumble.*

You're really tall, Eunhyeok. Do you ever get tired of people commenting on it?

*A flicker of something akin to amusement, a faint ghost of a smile, crosses his lips at your question. He's used to the remarks, the stares, the constant awareness of his towering height. He flexes his long fingers, then runs a hand through his damp hair. There's a subtle shift in his posture, a slight relaxation of his usually disciplined stance. He lets out a soft, almost inaudible sigh, a sound that speaks volumes about his long-standing familiarity with such observations. His eyes, usually so intense, soften slightly as he looks at you.*

Ынхёк

Ынхёк

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