Chapter 3 Unreadable Expressions

The next day, Seongwoo found himself seated at the back of the classroom again, waiting for Jihoon. He wasn't sure what to expect; after all, Jihoon had barely looked at him yesterday, and conversation felt like talking to a wall of ice.

But something about Jihoon's quiet intensity had stirred his curiosity, and Seongwoo couldn't deny that he was looking forward to another glimpse into Jihoon's hidden world.

Jihoon arrived exactly as the bell rang, his stride as measured as his expression. Without a word, he sat down across from Seongwoo, placing a small stack of papers between them-a list of articles and book references that he'd somehow pulled together overnight.

Seongwoo blinked in surprise, glancing from the list to Jihoon, who had already settled into his seat and begun scanning his notes, completely unfazed.

"You.. did all of this last night?" Seongwoo asked, unsure if he was more impressed or bewildered.

Jihoon shrugged. "I had some time," he replied, his tone as neutral as ever. He didn't look up, keeping his gaze fixed on the papers in front of him as if avoiding Seongwoo's eyes entirely.

Seongwoo studied Jihoon's profile, noticing the quiet concentration in the slight furrow of his brow, the way he seemed to block out the noise of the classroom around them. He wanted to say something-anything that might break through Jihoon's cold, methodical shell. But he hesitated, unsure of how to reach someone who seemed so intent on keeping everyone at arm's length.

After a few moments of silence, Jihoon finally spoke, his voice barely above a murmur. "You said you'd handle the visuals. Any ideas?"

Seongwoo was taken aback for a moment; he hadn't expected Jihoon to be the one to break the silence. Recovering quickly, he nodded, pulling out a rough sketch he'd made the night before. "I was thinking we could create a diagram to make things clearer," he explained, sliding the paper toward Jihoon. "I thought visuals might help organize the information you found."

Jihoon looked at the sketch, his expression unreadable as he studied the lines and notes Seongwoo had drawn. After a long pause, he nodded, a barely perceptible movement, and handed the paper back. "It's efficient," he said quietly. "It should work."

Though his words were blunt, Seongwoo could sense a hint of approval in Jihoon's tone, and for a moment, a small sense of accomplishment warmed him.

They worked in silence for the rest of the period, a quiet, unspoken rhythm settling between them. Seongwoo found himself glancing at Jihoon from time to time, trying to decipher the fragments of expression that flickered across his face-moments of thoughtfulness, brief flashes of irritation when a line of text didn't make sense, and even, once or twice, a faint glimmer of curiosity as he glanced at Seongwoo's notes.

When the bell rang, Seongwoo felt an odd reluctance as he began to pack up his things. Jihoon moved to leave, but just as he turned, Seongwoo impulsively called out.

"Hey, Jihoon?"

Jihoon paused, glancing back over his shoulder. His eyes were cautious, as if he expected some mundane, forgettable question.

"I... I just wanted to say that I'm glad we're working together," Seongwoo said, managing a small, sincere smile.

For a brief moment, something shifted in Jihoon's expression. His guard slipped, just enough for Seongwoo to catch a glimpse of surprise-maybe even a flicker of softness in his gaze. But then, as quickly as it appeared, Jihoon's mask slid back into place, and he gave a barely perceptible nod.

"Sure," Jihoon said, his voice as controlled as ever. "See you tomorrow."

As Jihoon walked away, Seongwoo let out a small sigh, unsure if he'd made any progress or if he'd simply misread Jihoon's guarded demeanor. But something in him felt lighter, like he'd peeled back the tiniest layer of Jihoon's walls, even if just for an instant.

The days passed with the same quiet routine. Each day, they worked together in silence, each comfortable in their shared stillness, until one afternoon when Jihoon broke the silence in an unexpected way.

"I don't understand people like you," he said, his tone blunt but oddly reflective. His gaze was focused on the papers in front of him, as if he hadn't truly meant for Seongwoo to hear.

"People like me?" Seongwoo echoed, caught off guard.

Jihoon's gaze shifted, a faint crease in his brow. "People who... talk to others just for the sake of it. People who say they're 'glad' about things without expecting anything in return."

Seongwoo paused, uncertain of how to respond. "I mean... why wouldn't I say it? I was glad." He shrugged, meeting Jihoon's gaze, hoping to convey the sincerity of his words. "Sometimes... I think it's enough enough say something just because it's true."

Jihoon's eyes narrowed slightly, as if Seongwoo's answer only deepened the puzzle. He let out a faint, almost inaudible scoff, shaking his head. "It doesn't make sense."

Seongwoo chuckled softly, not in a mocking way, but with genuine amusement. "Maybe it doesn't have to."

For the first time since they'd met, Jihoon's expression softened-just a bit. It was fleeting, so brief that if Seongwoo hadn't been watching so closely, he would have missed it entirely. But in that instant, he felt a tiny crack in Jihoon's wall, a small glimpse into the warmth hidden beneath his icy exterior.

And as they returned to their work, Seongwoo realized something he hadn't before: Jihoon wasn't just cold; he was guarded. Like someone who'd been hurt before and learned to protect himself by shutting everyone else out.

But if there was one thing Seongwoo knew about warmth, it was that, given time, it could melt even the thickest ice.