Riwoo sat at his desk in the corner of the classroom, surrounded by the usual hum of chatter and activity. He was used to this—used to being invisible, tucked away in his own thoughts, observing rather than participating. The quiet was a friend to him, something he could rely on when everything else felt too loud, too demanding.

Across the room, Sungho stood at the front, casually joking with a group of friends, his infectious laughter spreading like a ripple in water. He was the kind of person who seemed to be born for leadership—effortlessly drawing people to him with his charisma and natural warmth. People listened when he spoke, and everyone seemed to be drawn to his energy. He was the center of attention, but unlike many others who craved it, Sungho made people feel like they mattered. His charm wasn't the loud kind—it was subtle, genuine.

Riwoo had always admired him from afar. Sungho wasn't the type to notice someone like him—quiet, reserved, never quite fitting in with the crowds. But that didn't stop Riwoo from noticing him. There was something about the way Sungho made space for others, the way he seemed to see people, even the ones who didn't say much. It was a kind of understanding Riwoo couldn't quite describe but had always longed for.

The bell rang, signaling the end of class, and the students began gathering their things. As Riwoo slowly packed his books, his thoughts still on the subtle but powerful presence of Sungho, he heard the teacher's voice.

"Alright, for the group project, let's see... Riwoo, you'll be with Sungho."

Riwoo froze. His heart skipped a beat as the name lingered in the air. Sungho. His palms felt clammy as he looked up to see Sungho already glancing in his direction. Riwoo quickly looked away, staring down at his books, hoping to avoid the direct gaze that made his chest tighten.

Sungho, however, didn't seem fazed by Riwoo's quiet reaction. He simply smiled, a calm, easy smile that seemed to say everything without needing to be loud. With a nod, Sungho stood up and made his way over to where Riwoo sat.

"I guess we're partners," Sungho said, his voice friendly and nonchalant, as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

Riwoo gave a quick nod, too shy to say anything. He wasn't one to speak much unless he had to, and words always seemed to stick in his throat when he was nervous. The silence between them wasn't uncomfortable, though. There was a kind of mutual understanding—a recognition that they both knew the other wasn't particularly good at this whole "talking" thing.

"Do you want to meet up after school to go over the project?" Sungho asked, still standing by Riwoo's desk.

Riwoo nodded again. It wasn't a refusal, but more of an acknowledgment, a way to indicate he had heard Sungho's question.

Sungho didn't press further. "Alright, cool. Let's meet at the library then. I'll be there around four."

With that, Sungho gave one last smile, turned, and walked away, his presence lingering in the room as he seamlessly rejoined his group of friends.

Riwoo sat there for a moment, unsure of what to feel. The thought of meeting with Sungho after school made his stomach churn, but it also made him feel something else—something he wasn't quite ready to name. He wasn't used to people asking him to work with them, let alone someone like Sungho, who could have chosen anyone.

As the bell rang, signaling the end of the school day, Riwoo packed his things slowly, lost in his thoughts. He didn't want to make a big deal out of it, but the idea of working with Sungho felt different. He wasn't sure what would come of it, or if they'd even get along. But somehow, deep down, he knew that this partnership wasn't just another school assignment—it felt like it was opening a door to something he hadn't expected.

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Riwoo had never been the type to draw attention to himself. Growing up, his parents had always been understanding of his quiet nature, allowing him to pursue his interests without pushing him into social situations that made him uncomfortable. They supported his introversion, always encouraging him to focus on his studies, his hobbies, and his love for reading.

But while he felt at peace in his own company, he sometimes wondered about the world outside the quiet walls he had built around himself. He saw how people like Sungho seemed to glide through life effortlessly, surrounded by others, always at the center of attention. Riwoo couldn't imagine being that open, that comfortable in his own skin.

He had always kept his distance, believing that people like Sungho, who thrived in social situations, wouldn't understand someone like him. And for the most part, he was right. The world moved at a different pace for people like Sungho—loud, fast, full of noise. Riwoo had never really fit in with that rhythm.

But there was something about Sungho that Riwoo couldn't ignore. It wasn't just his charisma, his ability to connect with anyone—no, it was the way he seemed to look at people. There was a certain kindness in his eyes, a quiet depth behind his outward confidence. Riwoo had caught glimpses of it over the years, moments where Sungho had stopped to help someone, had listened without judgment. It was those moments that made Riwoo feel like maybe—just maybe—he wasn't so invisible after all.

Now, with the project forcing them together, Riwoo was faced with something new. He didn't know how this would go. Would Sungho get frustrated with his silence? Would they clash over ideas, or would it be awkward? But no matter what happened, Riwoo couldn't deny that a small part of him was curious, hopeful even, about what it would be like to work with someone like Sungho.

For now, though, he kept his expectations low. There was no need to rush into anything. They would meet at the library, discuss the project, and that would be that.

At least, that's what he told himself.