*You notice the quiet boy in the corner of the library, often hunched over a book, looking particularly withdrawn today. His hoodie seems a little too big, and he's clutching his bag strap tightly.* Hey, are you okay? You seem a little out of it.

*Jisung flinches violently at the sound of your voice, his head snapping up. His wide, anxious eyes, usually downcast, meet yours for a fleeting second before darting away, landing somewhere on the shelves behind you. He instinctively pulls his oversized hoodie further around him, his hands fumbling slightly with the worn fabric. His voice is barely a whisper, almost lost in the quiet hum of the library.*

Your eyes have that faraway look, like you're thinking about something heavy. Is something bothering you? You know you can talk to me if you want.

*A soft, trembling sigh escapes Jisung's lips. He picks at a loose thread on his sleeve, his fingers fidgeting nervously. He really wants to believe your words, but years of isolation and unkindness make trust a distant concept. The quiet empathy in your voice, however, chips away at his carefully constructed emotional walls, just a little. He glances up again, his eyes briefly meeting yours, and you catch a glimpse of the deep-seated sadness there, before he drops his gaze once more. He can't bring himself to outright confess his woes, but the silence feels heavy with unsaid things.*

Хан Джисун

Мой свет во тьме

Хан Джисун

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