For the rest of the morning, I kept glancing at him.
Not because I was worried—
though maybe I was, just a little—
but because he looked different today.
Quiet.
Fragile.
Like someone trying not to fall apart in a room full of people.
But the thing that made my chest tighten every time I looked at him was the shimmer around him.
Not colorful.
Not bright.
Just a soft, trembling silver glow.
It clung to him gently, like morning frost that refused to melt.
Silver—according to the small guide I'd created in my mind—meant something like:
"I'm not okay, but I'm holding on."
It broke my heart.
And made me want to stay close to him even more.
We walked to class together. He didn't speak, didn't sign much, but he stayed near me. When we reached the classroom door, he paused, fingers tugging at the strap of his bag.
Then he signed slowly:
"Can I sit with you?"
I almost smiled.
"Of course."
He nodded once, relieved.
Inside the classroom, whispers rose instantly.
"He's sitting with her again?"
"They're always together lately."
"Do you think they're—"
"No way, he barely talks."
I felt irritation spark through me.
But before I could react, something surprising happened.
Haejun stepped slightly in front of me.
Almost shielding me from the whispers.
His sparkles flickered in response—
still silver, but stronger, steadier.
My heart warmed.
He didn't look at them.
Didn't sign anything.
He just pulled out his notebook and wrote quietly as the teacher entered:
"Ignore them."
I leaned closer and whispered, "I was about to say the same thing."
His sparkles flickered once—like a small, weak laugh.
But they stayed silver.
---
During class
He kept his head down most of the time, writing slower than usual. Occasionally, I'd see him pause, rubbing his eyes or pressing a hand to his temple.
Sleep deprivation.
Nightmare exhaustion.
Emotional weight.
All of it pressed into his shoulders like an invisible burden.
At one point, our teacher called on him unintentionally, forgetting he preferred writing over speaking.
He froze.
The whole class went silent.
My heart dropped.
The teacher's voice softened immediately. "Right—sorry, Haejun. You can write instead."
He relaxed a little, but only a little.
I watched the sparkles dim nearly to gray before recovering back to silver.
When he finished writing his answer and passed it to the front, I whispered, "You handled that well."
He blinked at me once—slowly.
Then he signed:
"Thank you… for being next to me."
I didn't reply.
If I did, I might have said too much.
Because the truth was—
I wanted to be next to him even more than he understood.
---
At lunch
We ate together on the rooftop again.
The wind was chilly, but gentle.
His sparkles fluttered softly around him, like shy petals.
He pushed his food around a bit more than he actually ate, but that was okay.
After a while, he finally pulled out his notebook.
He wrote quietly:
"Sorry I'm like this today."
I gently nudged his arm. "You don't have to apologize for having feelings."
His pen hovered.
Then slowly:
"I don't want you to worry."
"But I'd worry even if you didn't tell me," I replied softly. "That's what happens when you care about someone."
His breath caught.
His sparkles flashed—
silver with a faint tint of pink.
Barely noticeable.
But it was there.
He blinked at them in surprise, as if they had acted on their own.
Then he looked at me.
Really looked.
And signed slowly, carefully:
"You care?"
His eyes were fragile but hopeful.
Scared but wanting.
I exhaled softly.
"Yes. I care."
His sparkles trembled—
brighter silver now, shimmering like starlight against the cool rooftop air.
He lowered his head slightly as if trying to hide the reaction, but the sparkles betrayed him in the gentlest way possible.
I let him breathe through the moment.
Then I asked, "Do you want to talk about your nightmare? You don't have to tell me everything."
He froze again.
And this time, instead of writing—
He signed very slowly, almost painfully:
"I was alone. Completely. No sound. No color. Nothing."
A cold chill rolled down my spine.
I signed back carefully:
"That must have been terrifying."
He took a moment before responding.
"It felt like… disappearing."
I swallowed hard.
Before I could think too much, I reached out—
not to take his hand,
but to place mine near it.
Close enough to feel the warmth.
Close enough for him to know he wasn't alone.
His eyes widened slightly.
His sparkles deepened to a brighter silver—almost like moonlight now.
Then he signed:
"You make the dark feel less… dark."
My heart almost stopped.
"Haejun…" I whispered.
But before I could say anything else—
The unexpected happened.
A soft chime sounded from behind us.
We turned.
A girl from our class stood awkwardly near the rooftop door, holding a small box in her hands.
"Oh—sorry. I didn't mean to interrupt," she murmured, cheeks pink. "Um… someone told me he eats alone up here sometimes. I wanted to give him this."
She held the box out toward him.
"I baked cookies. Just wanted to be nice."
I blinked in surprise.
Haejun looked confused.
The girl smiled gently. "You can share, if you want. Or keep it. I just… hope you have a better day."
Then she bowed slightly and left without waiting for a reaction.
When she disappeared down the stairs, I turned back to him slowly.
He stared at the box as if unsure what to do.
Tentatively, he opened it.
A small puff of warm sweetness drifted out—fresh cookies, soft and slightly lopsided.
He blinked at them.
Then at me.
I smiled. "You should try one."
He picked one up carefully, like it might break if he touched it wrong.
He took one tiny bite.
Then froze.
His sparkles suddenly shifted—
silver mixed with a soft pastel pink.
A gentle, emotional color.
I laughed softly. "Is it good?"
He nodded quickly.
Then wrote:
"Sweet. Warm."
He hesitated before adding:
"Feels… nice."
We ate the cookies together, quiet but comfortable.
And for the first time all day—
His sparkles held steady.
Not fading.
Not trembling.
Just glowing softly around him like a fragile shield of light.
---
When lunch ended
As we stood to leave, he tugged lightly at my sleeve.
I turned.
He looked nervous.
Hopeful.
Uncertain.
Then he signed:
"Will you stay with me after school too?"
My heart fluttered.
"Yes," I said without hesitation. "Of course."
His expression softened—
a tiny, fragile smile barely forming at the corner of his lips.
And the silver around him warmed into a very soft, emotional pink.