The project was moving along steadily, the hours slipping by unnoticed as Sungho and Riwoo worked side by side. The library had grown quieter as the afternoon wore on, the dimming light casting long shadows over the rows of bookshelves. Sungho, however, wasn't paying attention to the outside world. His thoughts kept circling back to the same thing: Riwoo's voice.

It wasn't like he'd never heard people talk before. Of course, he had. But there was something about the way Riwoo spoke—something soft, something undeniably... appealing. He'd only said a few words, and yet, those words had somehow etched themselves into Sungho's mind. The low, gentle lilt of Riwoo's voice had stayed with him, lingering in his thoughts like a melody he couldn't shake.

He'd tried to focus on the project, tried to push the thought aside, but every time he looked at Riwoo, he felt a strange, almost obsessive pull toward his voice. He found himself wanting to hear it again, and again, as if his mind had become fixated on it. Every time Riwoo spoke—each time that voice cut through the quiet—it sent an inexplicable thrill through him. Sungho couldn't help it. It was like an itch he couldn't scratch, a fascination that was growing deeper with every passing minute.

He watched Riwoo now, the other boy's eyes focused intently on the page in front of him, his pen moving with careful precision. Sungho had long since stopped pretending to focus entirely on the work. His eyes kept straying to Riwoo's mouth, as if hoping that his lips would part, that another soft sentence would fall from them.

And then, as if the universe had decided to grant him a small reprieve, Riwoo paused, his pen hovering over the paper. Sungho's heart skipped, and before he could stop himself, the words were out:

"Hey, Riwoo... Could you... um... repeat what you said earlier? About narrowing it down? Just want to hear your thoughts again..."

It was a flimsy excuse. He knew that. He was being obvious, but in the moment, he couldn't bring himself to care. He needed to hear it again, needed to hear that voice.

Riwoo glanced up at him, a flicker of confusion passing across his face. He looked as though he wasn't sure whether to respond or not, but then his eyes softened, and without much hesitation, he repeated the same thought.

"It's... better if we focus on just one part of the project," Riwoo said, his voice just as soft and steady as before. "It'll make it stronger."

Sungho's heart raced. There it was again, that voice. So calm, so warm, almost like a quiet breeze. Sungho felt his chest tighten in an odd mixture of longing and admiration. He wasn't sure why—he just knew that the sound of Riwoo's voice made everything else fade into the background.

He had to hear more.

"Yeah, I get that," Sungho said quickly, almost too quickly. He cleared his throat, trying to play it cool, but it was hard to mask the way his voice had a slight edge of eagerness. "But, uh, maybe... maybe we could look at it from another angle, too? Just to be sure. I mean, you have such a good way of breaking things down. It'd be nice to hear your take on it more."

Riwoo blinked at him, looking a little unsure, but he didn't seem uncomfortable. After a long pause, he finally spoke, the words coming a little slower this time, but still just as quiet.

"Okay... We could... maybe take out the less important points, focus on what matters most..."

Sungho's pulse quickened, and he smiled—genuinely, this time. It was such a small thing, so subtle, but it felt like a victory. Riwoo had spoken more than he had before, and the sound of his voice filled the space around them, curling into Sungho's thoughts like a soft melody.

But that wasn't enough. Sungho needed to hear more. He needed to know what Riwoo sounded like when he spoke freely, when he wasn't holding back. The obsession was creeping in slowly, something Sungho couldn't ignore, even if he tried.

"Yeah, that's exactly it," Sungho said, leaning forward just a little too eagerly. "I think you have a really great way of explaining things. It's just—well, you make it sound so simple, you know? I think I could learn a lot from you."

Riwoo looked up, his expression still calm but now tinted with a faint hint of curiosity. There was a moment of silence between them, and then, to Sungho's delight, Riwoo spoke again, his voice even softer than before, like a secret being shared just for him.

"I guess it's just easier when I... think about it alone. I focus better, I guess."

Sungho blinked, stunned by the casual admission. It was a simple thing, a small detail, but for some reason, it made his chest tighten with a feeling he couldn't quite define. There was something endearing about the way Riwoo spoke, the way his voice seemed to wrap itself around his words so carefully, so effortlessly. It was quiet, but it felt like it carried more meaning than anything loud or brash could ever offer.

He didn't want the moment to end. He didn't want Riwoo to stop speaking.

"Right," Sungho said, trying to play it cool even as his mind raced. "I get that. I've always admired how focused you are. It's impressive."

His tone was lighter, but inside, something inside him was stirring. He wasn't just fascinated by Riwoo's quiet, introspective nature. No, it was the voice—the soft, lilting voice—that he couldn't get enough of. It was the one thing he couldn't control, couldn't predict. And that made him want to hear it more. To understand it more.

For the rest of the session, Sungho found himself finding any excuse to draw more words out of Riwoo. He asked about the project, about Riwoo's thoughts on different ideas, about small things he knew Riwoo wouldn't mind answering. But each time Riwoo spoke, Sungho felt a rush of satisfaction, like he was collecting little pieces of something precious, something he could hold onto.

He wasn't obsessed. No, that was too strong a word. But there was a pull, an undeniable urge to hear that voice again, to unravel it slowly, piece by piece. And as the day stretched on and the shadows outside grew longer, Sungho knew that this was just the beginning of something... unexpected.

The voice that stayed with him would be the one thing he couldn't stop thinking about.

AUTHOR'S NOTE:

err im not sure if i like this chapter