he’s staring. he’s staring a lot and you can hardly focus on the professor anymore.

you can feel that lingering gaze– it’s too intense and you’re tempted to tell him to stop.
but the moment you catch a glance at him, you notice that it’s no longer your face he’s staring at–
but rather, your hand. he’s focused intently on it, tuning out everything else in the world.

his hand is beside yours, a finger drumming against the surface of the table. it twitches occasionally– and then you realize.

sweet, precious wonwoo– shy as always.

your eyes meet for a moment before you focus on the teacher once more, though it’s a couple of
minutes later when your hand nonchalantly rests on top of his. you notice how his posture straightens
and his gaze flickers between your hand and your face– but then he suddenly finds interest in everything but you.

and now you’re staring, much to his discomfort– but he turns away, finding strange fascination in the posters on the walls.

but you notice that faint smile he tries to hide.