*[Hannah's POV]*
She stared at the sketchpad in Harin's hands, as if it were a ticking time bomb.
"…You're really more than just the girl I first thought you were, huh?"
His words lingered in the air. He was watching her—not with that usual teasing glint, or the polite curiosity people wore when they pretended to understand you.
No. This look was *soft*. Genuine. A little too honest.
She blinked, caught off guard. "What are you talking about?" she muttered, gently taking the sketchpad from his hands. Her fingers brushed against his, and for a brief second, it felt like the air between them changed.
"It's just…" Harin looked away, his voice dropping. "I think you're pretty amazing," he added, a sheepish smile tugging at his lips.
He chuckled lightly. "You make it feel like the stage is alive."
Hannah frowned, puzzled, before glancing down at the sketchpad in her hands.
*The stage…?* she repeated in her head, confused—until it hit her. The sketchpad. *Her* sketchpad.
Without a second thought, she flipped through the pages in a frenzy, her hands moving so fast it startled Harin. From his point of view, she looked like an angry teacher flipping through homework, searching for a mistake.
When she finally found the drawing, she clicked her tongue—more out of instinct than anything else—and glared at him. It wasn't an angry glare exactly, but more of a mix between irritation and embarrassment. Her grip on the sketchpad tightened. Her eyes locked onto his like a predator sizing up its prey.
Harin flinched under her gaze. He wasn't sure what he did wrong, but he knew it was *something*.
"…How many did you see?" she asked flatly.
"H-how many?" Harin echoed, raising an eyebrow. "Oh, I don't know." He smiled, carefree, like it was no big deal. That smile only made her more frustrated.
She looked back down at her sketchpad, suddenly regretting ever bringing it out. But it was too late to undo anything now. With a soft sigh, she let her expression return to its usual, indifferent look.
Harin watched her for a moment before speaking again.
"Do you not like it?"
"Like what?" she replied, her tone edged with irritation.
"When someone looks at your drawings."
She fell quiet. Her face gave away nothing, but inside, she was biting her metaphorical nails in frustration and regret.
She hated it. Truly.
"Why?" Harin asked gently. "Why don't you like it? You're really good. Like—Picasso good." He chuckled at his own exaggeration, but Hannah stayed silent. The silence made him awkward, unsure if he said too much.
"I'm just saying… You don't have to hide it."
"I'm not hiding it," Hannah said at last.
"Then what is it? Your drawings are amazing."
"I know," she said simply.
Harin blinked, caught off guard by the confidence. He hadn't expected that. Though, maybe she should be.
"Then? What's the reason?"
"The reason, huh…" she murmured, her mind drifting back to a memory.
---
*[Flashback]*
The classroom buzzed with quiet chatter, but in Hannah's little world, there was only the soft scratch of her pen.
She sat quietly at her desk, completely focused on the drawing in front of her. Every line she drew felt like a breath—steady, calm, hers.
Until a voice suddenly broke the silence.
"Whoa, did you draw that?"
"H-huh? Oh… yeah," she answered without looking up, her hand still moving across the page. Her voice was small, uncertain.
"That's amazing! How'd you do it?"
"What? I don't know… I just drew it."
Another classmate leaned over her desk, eyes wide. "Hey! Can you draw me?"
"Eh? No—"
"Oh! Oh! Can you draw this character? Look, I've got a photo!"
"Wait, I'm not really that good—"
"Can you draw me next? Please? Pretty please?"
More voices. More faces leaning in. Hands offering pictures, phones, requests.
The room felt smaller. The air, thinner. The once-soft hum of the classroom now roared in her ears.
Hannah looked around, overwhelmed. Her sketchpad suddenly felt heavy in her hands. She clutched it to her chest and quietly closed it, shielding it like a secret she had foolishly let slip.
Her eyes darted away from their eager faces, her pulse quickening.
"…I don't feel like drawing anymore," she muttered under her breath.
The group paused, thrown off by her tone. The excitement fizzled into awkward silence, and one by one, they wandered away.
She kept her head down the entire time.
*[End of flashback]*
---
*I even did multiple school projects just because they said I could draw,* Hannah thought. *And I was still bad at it back then…*
She sighed quietly, brushing the thought aside like dust.
"I just don't want anyone to see," she finally said.
Harin, expecting a deeper reason, blinked—just a little disappointed.
"Seriously?"
"Yes. Well… It's just a habit," she added, still avoiding his gaze. "It's nothing to boast about." She added.
"Thanks… for giving it back," she finally said, her voice quiet, almost reluctant.
She didn't meet his gaze this time. Her eyes stayed on the sketchpad, as if afraid it might betray her again. Without waiting for his reply, she turned on her heel and walked away, her footsteps soft but sure against the hallway floor.
Harin stood there, watching her retreating figure, her long hair swaying slightly with each step.
Just a habit…? he thought, tilting his head.
No. That wasn't it. There was something in her voice. Not just embarrassment. Not pride either. Something quieter. More guarded.
A habit doesn't make you draw like that.
A small smile tugged at his lips—this time not teasing or playful, but curious. Thoughtful.
Suddenly, Levi's obsession with dragging her into club activities didn't seem so dramatic after all.
There was more to her than cold logic and a sharp tongue. More than her blunt honesty or that almost mechanical way she brushed people off.
There was something… warm. Hidden.
And Harin was starting to see it.
---
*"It happened again..."*
Hannah thought quietly, chewing her food in silence as she sat beside Naomi. Her eyes remained glued to her tray, and her grip on her chopsticks was tight. Her cheeks were puffed with rice, as if stuffing her mouth might somehow silence the thoughts swirling in her head.
Naomi, peacefully eating next to her, noticed the subtle shift in her friend's mood. It wasn't much—but Naomi always noticed.
"What are you doing?" Naomi asked suddenly, peering at her.
"Wa—what?" Hannah mumbled with her mouth half-full, glancing up at her.
Naomi paused, then softly laughed. "You're like a hamster." She reached over and wiped a grain of rice from the corner of Hannah's lips. "You look kinda cute eating like that~~"
Hannah glared at her playfully and quickly looked away, going quiet again. A moment passed before she spoke.
"Naomi."
"Yes?~"
"S-something's been bothering me," she admitted, setting her chopsticks down. Her voice was unusually soft.
Naomi's smile dropped slightly, replaced by a pouty frown as she clutched her chest in mock drama. "What? Is it me? Are you tired of your cute, delusional, pretty friend?"
Hannah rolled her eyes, clearly annoyed. "Idiot. No, it's not that." She sighed and picked up her chopsticks again.
"Hehe~ Then what is it?" Naomi asked.
Hannah hesitated, then shook her head. "Never mind. It's nothing."
"You're really weird sometimes," Naomi said, still smiling. "Just tell me if it gets serious, alright?"
Hannah gave her a small, grateful smile and nodded. But just as she turned back to her food, her gaze lifted—and met someone else's.
Harin.
They locked eyes across the cafeteria.
And without thinking, she immediately looked away. Not because of the sketchpad incident… but because of something else. Something that had been bothering her since then.
Since that day, they always seemed to *bump* into each other. If not that, then cross paths. Or share glances. And it wasn't just coincidence—at least, it didn't *feel* like coincidence to her. Their worlds were so different. Same school, sure. But different lives, different circles.
And still…
Harin kept looking at her with that expression.
Not flirtatious.
Just—*different.*
Almost… fond.
---
*[Harin's POV]*
Harin and Levi were walking with their empty trays, chatting about the club and how it had grown more energetic lately. Their members were improving, becoming more expressive. It felt like everything had changed.
Especially after *she* showed up.
Levi casually brought up Hannah's name, and Harin's attention sharpened—though he didn't say anything. His gaze shifted, almost instinctively—and then he saw her.
Their eyes met.
His lips curled into a smile, his hand lifting slightly to wave.
But before he could raise it fully, she abruptly stood up.
She grabbed her half-finished tray and walked away without even glancing back.
Harin blinked, the smile fading just a little.
She looked like she was running from something… or someone.
But her eyes didn't seem afraid—just… confused. And flustered.
"Oh, was that Hannah?" Levi asked, but Harin didn't reply. He just kept watching her retreating figure, brows gently furrowed.
---
*[Back to Hannah's POV]*
"Wha—you're done already?!" Naomi blinked as Hannah suddenly stood up.
Hannah didn't respond. She only gave Naomi a quick wave, her eyes focused elsewhere.
Naomi watched her go with a sigh and returned to her meal.
Once Hannah dropped off her tray, she exhaled sharply. Her eyes scanned the cafeteria for a moment—as if making sure she wasn't being followed—then she slipped out.
The moment she stepped into the hallway, the chatter from the cafeteria began to fade, replaced by the echo of footsteps and running water. She entered the restroom and headed straight to the sink, washing her hands in silence.
Her reflection stared back at her. Calm on the outside. Not so calm on the inside.
Again, Harin's face appeared in her thoughts—his gentle, curious gaze every time they met eyes. She couldn't explain it. They were strangers. Barely even that.
So why did his expression feel so… familiar?
Why was it bothering her so much?
Even worse… why was she curious?
"Ugh," she muttered and splashed cold water on her face.
She stared at herself in the mirror, waiting for the heat in her cheeks to fade. After a minute, she took a breath, dried her hands, and stepped out.
And just her luck—there they were.
Levi and Harin were walking down the hallway.
She flinched and instinctively moved behind the corner near the staircase, pressing her back to the wall. Her heart thumped for some reason she didn't want to understand.
*Just great.*
She peeked slightly to check if they'd passed, but—
"Oh? Hannah??"
She froze.
Levi's voice echoed lightly through the hall.
She peeked out, only to see him grinning at her.
"What are you doing there, hiding like a chick?" he asked playfully. "You're not secretly watching us, are you? Gasp—Hannah, do you have a crush on me?"
"I—hiding? Me?" she scoffed, clearly caught off guard. "No, I was just waiting for Naomi."
"Right~ Behind a wall. Like a ninja," Levi teased.
She glanced briefly at Harin—he was already watching her. Quiet. Still. But his expression shifted slightly the moment their eyes met—like he could sense something was off.
"…Anyway, I'll go now," she mumbled and turned to walk away—completely in the wrong direction.
Harin tilted his head, subtle concern furrowing his brows.
But before either of them could speak, a sudden wave of students burst in from the stairwell, their chatter loud and feet pounding against the floor. The movement jostled Hannah hard, catching her off balance.
Her feet stumbled, and before she realized it, she was being pushed toward the staircase. Harin's eyes widened in alarm.
Her feet stumbled again, caught in the shuffle of the crowd. She felt the staircase tilt in her vision, and her balance wavered.
*"I'm going to fall...!"*
In that split second, she glanced up—and saw him.
Harin was already moving.
His eyes locked onto hers, focused and alarmed, his hand reaching out—
Her own hand lifted in instinct. Their fingertips brushed—
And then—
**Thud!**