Kang Jisoo didn't speak for the first week.
Not during roll call. Not during lunch. Not during their shared literature class, where he now sat beside Yoon Sera like a dark cloud next to a quiet pond.
And yet, he was impossible to ignore.
He never took notes, never raised his hand. But when called on, he answered with perfect articulation—cool, sharp, like he was reading the answers off a page only he could see.
Girls whispered about him in hallways. Boys avoided his gaze.
The teachers seemed unsure how to handle him—especially when he challenged them with unsettling calm.
But it was Sera who watched the most closely.
Not obviously. She wasn't reckless like that. But in the flicker of her eyes when he shifted in his seat, in the pause of her pen whenever he muttered a response, she collected him in fragments.
Bruises fading day by day. A notebook with only scribbles in the corners. The way he clenched his jaw during family-themed essays.
By Thursday, the teacher announced:
"You two—Yoon Sera and Kang Jisoo—will partner for the literature midterm project."
The room stirred.
Sera's throat went dry. She hadn't expected it. She always worked alone. She preferred it.
Jisoo looked up for the first time.
His gaze landed on her—direct, unreadable.
Sera lowered her eyes and nodded.
Later, when the bell rang and everyone hurried out for lunch, Jisoo stayed in his seat.
Sera didn't move either.
They sat in silence. Two strangers tied by assignment, neither willing to speak first.
Then, suddenly—
"You write small." His voice was low, but not unfriendly.
Sera looked at him.
He nodded toward her open notebook. "Like... scared to take up space."
She blinked. "And you don't write at all."
He smirked—just barely. "I don't have much to say."
Sera closed her notebook slowly. "Then this project will be fun."
He leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, watching her like she was a puzzle he didn't ask for.
"You're not like the others."
She stiffened. "How so?"
"You're not afraid of me."
Sera looked at him fully then, her gaze steady.
"I'm afraid of many things, Kang Jisoo. You're not one of them."
He didn't reply. But something in his expression shifted—like a door half-cracked, letting in air for the first time in years.
As she packed her things, Sera paused.
"We can meet after class tomorrow. For the project."
"Okay."
She started to leave, then glanced back.
"And... it's okay to write in the margins," she said softly. "Even if it's messy."
Jisoo didn't respond.
But when she was gone, he turned to her notebook again, eyes fixed on the page where her tiny handwriting danced between the lines.
That night, he opened his own.
And for the first time in months, he picked up a pen.