For my darling Grace

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              He was always the mute boy to her, the weird kid that sat quietly at the back of the class and slept sometimes in class. He was impossible to read, because he always looked sad or in physical pain. He never participated in class discussions; the teachers had some kind of silent agreement just to never ask him to answer or say anything. Was he not smart? Or was he just quiet? Was there some kind of developmental issue with him? Was there some scarring childhood incident that shut off his voice forever? Did he not understand what was going on at any time? Did he not even speak Korean? What was his deal?

              He was, admittedly, very handsome, but very unapproachable and kind of scary. He looked much older than everyone else, and his height and build added to his hulking impression. She had only heard him sneeze once in the four months since the school year began. It was odd. She sneezed almost every day.

              His dark, sharp eyes destroyed any hope of being near him without shaking in fear, but he still had a good number of friends. At, least, she thought they were his friends. Sometimes she thought they just included him because they felt sorry for him. But what made them feel sorry?

              Dara closed her notebook, checked the time on her watch, and looked at the clock on the wall to double-check. The time hadn’t changed since two seconds before, amazingly. She huffed, drumming her nails on the table. Why did this class have to be so long? Her eyes rolled around the classroom.

              “Aish,” she swore, causing seventeen heads to swivel in her direction.

              She ducked, putting her head down on the desk. She had forgotten that the rest of the class was still taking a quiz. What was taking so long? It wasn’t even hard. Why was everyone else so slow?

              She looked back up, pushing her dark brown hair out of her face. The mute boy was staring at the wall beside his desk. He looked frustrated, gripping his pencil so tightly his knuckles were white. He had really pretty hands.

              Dara frowned internally. Where did that even come from?

              But he really did have pretty hands . . .

              He caught her staring at him and she jumped lightly, hiding her face in her hair. She dropped her head on her folded arms, her ears growing hot in embarrassment. Her table partner kicked her shin quickly.

              “Stop moving so much,” she warned, resuming her test.

              “Sorry,” Dara whispered.

              She was so embarrassed.

              She checked the time after staring at her sneakers for quite some time. Twenty minutes had flown by in the blink of an eye. Had she fallen asleep there with her eyes open?

              “All right,” the teacher said, standing and walking to the front of the classroom. “That should have been ample time to finish your test. Please hand in your papers.”

              Dara was the first one out of her seat. She zoomed up to the front and dropped the paper into the teacher’s hand and raced back to her desk.

              “Ah, really,” her table partner groaned. She pouted and turned in her own test. She returned and pushed Dara’s head jokingly before resuming her seat. “Were you staring at Seunghyun earlier?”

              Huh? “Who?” Dara asked.

              “The mute boy, as everyone calls him. It’s so rude. Yeah, he doesn’t speak, but still.”

              So he did have a name. It was a strong-sounding name, Dara thought.

              “Hm,” she said simply.

              The bell before lunch rang. Dara remained firmly planted in her seat, instead of her usual dash to be first out of the door. It was then that she noticed that Seunghyun made sure to be the last one out of the class. She listened to everyone saying goodbye to the teacher and watched the sea of her fellow students slowly but surely push through the door. She and Seunghyun stood at the same time, chairs scraping and lunches in hand.

              He caught her eyes. She steeled her nerves to not turn away from that powerful glare. Her feet moved her across the back of the classroom and toward the boy. She wanted desperately for them to stop, but she kept going. He lowered himself into his seat, still watching her intently. She noticed the open notebook he had with him, pen in hand. It wasn’t a small book, either.

              “Hi,” she found herself saying. “My name is Park Sandara. Your name is Seunghyun.”

              He nodded slowly, the ghost of an amused smile tugging at his lips. He dropped his head and began scribbling on the blank page of his notebook.

              I know who you are, she read. He had nice, neat handwriting, like something one would see in a textbook or elementary classroom. It’s kind of hard to miss you.

              “What does that mean?” She knew she sounded fearful.

              You’re always in a hurry. You are very impatient.

              “You think so?”

              Yes. He wrote very formally. Was he a lowerclassman?

              “I suppose I do hate waiting for things. What year are you?”

              I’m in my first year of high school.

              He looked so much older than that! “I’m in my third year,” Dara said quietly. “I thought you were in the fourth year.

              No. And you don’t look that old, miss.

              She shook her head. “Just call me Dara for now. Aren’t you going to lunch?”

              No. I don’t eat lunch.

              “Well, why not?” Only then did she realize he paid her a compliment. She found herself hiding a simple grin behind her hand. Was she falling for him so quickly?

              I just don’t. No reason.

              “I’m not hungry today, so I’ll stay back, I suppose.”

              No, you’re not. And no you won’t. Go with your friends. They’re way more interesting to you than me.

              “That’s not true!” she blurted. What was she saying? “I think you’re interesting!”

              Since when?

              “ . . . That’s a weird question.”

              Oh? She wanted to wipe that awful smirk off his face.

              “Well, goodbye, then.”

              She her heel to leave, but a strong hand caught her wrist and pulled her back.

              His eyes begged her, Stay. He wrote quickly on the page and held it up. I don’t have any friends. Will you be the first?

              She was shocked. “But what about all of those people that smile at you?”

              They just feel bad for me. They know it, but they won’t admit it. In the past, I was ok with being a good-luck charm. But now . . . Now, I’m not ok with it. I just want someone who will see me as a person first, not some weird mute kid. And I know that you thought that about me. But you can change. You’re a good person, Park Sandara. You see the good in people, so what is the good in me?

              She blinked. “I would need to know you better to learn it.”

              I would be honored.

              Dara smiled. He was very pleasant to be around, not the frightening, weird kid people made him out to be. She noticed that his handwriting had become much more relaxed and even slight messy as she spoke to him. He was ok with her, and suddenly it meant the world to her. Could it be? Was she falling for him, truly?

              “Where are you sitting at lunch?”

---

              Dara stabbed a potato with her spoon, watching the thing fall apart into two halves. She hadn’t seen Seunghyun all day and it was killing her inside. She wanted to feel his large, warm hand in her small, cold one again. Did he go home? Was he suddenly not feeling well? She couldn’t just text him and yell at him for disappearing. Her phone was locked, silenced, and way on the other side of school in her locker. She rested her chin in her hand and pushed around her vegetables.

              After some time, a pair of lips planted a gentle kiss on her cheek. She looked up as the person tugged on her braid and tickled her nose with its end.  Seunghyun sat down in the chair beside her and scooted close, their knees touching. She dropped her spoon on her lunch tray and slipped her hand into his.

              “I’m sorry, noona,” he said softly. “Something came up.”

              “Don’t worry about it.” She smiled as he kissed her knuckles in the princely way that had always made her heart flutter. She loved to hear his voice, because she knew that she was one of the few people to whom Seunghyun spoke. But, he used longer sentences with her and talked to her very often.

              Seunghyun was not the enigmatic shadow other people saw him as. If there was something bothering him, it did take some coaxing, but Dara was always patient. She hated to read what had gone wrong in his day, but she loved reading it at the same time. She was happy to try and cheer him up, let him know that he could count on her when he needed someone.

              He was an amazing writer. She made him hand over every essay, book report, free write, lab report, and even math homework he had done over the past several months. She wondered how she had fallen in love with ink on a page, but it was apparent to her: this was her love’s voice. The words that flowed from his mouth paled in comparison to the words that flowed from his hands, his beautiful hands. There was such eloquence ad grace and learnedness in these scribbles on paper. There was the feeling and expression and labor that she lacked in her own writing. She knew he was embarrassing him with how much she read his writing, but she didn’t care.

              His speaking voice was always quiet, even when they were sitting together, their knees and shoulders together and sharing heat. It forced her to lean in and really focus on each word. She didn’t mind. His startlingly deep voice was not unpleasant or shaky, but it was still underused. She could see how frustrated he would become when he stumbled over words, even though he tried his hardest to hide his exasperation. His eyes spoke for him and they revealed everything.

              Seunghyun shook her arm. Had she zoned off?

              His brow knit, an amused smile tugging at his lips.

              “I’m fine,” Dara smiled. She brushed her thumb over his knuckles.

              He wrapped his other arm around her shoulders and pulled her into his chest. She buried her nose into the soft fabric of his cardigan. He smelled like he had been out running among the wildflowers for a few hours. She loved the warm, comforting smell, because it was just like him.

              Something cold and wet splashed her face, snapping her out of her reverie and throwing her back into the noisy lunchroom. Seunghyun pushed her away and jumped up. Dara looked up. Did he bump her milk?

              No. One of the evil mean girls had thrown milk at them, and it was all over Seunghyun’s face and pants.

              “You could do so much better, unnie,” she spat.

              Dara sat there, motionless. She wanted to run away. She wanted to cry. She wanted to punch that girl in the face. She wanted to yell at her. But she remained firmly in her seat with her hands hanging over the sides of her chair.

              She saw Seunghyun straighten up and stand taller out of the corner of her eye.

              “What’s your problem?” He spoke loudly and clearly. “Don’t you have something better to do than this? What is the meaning of this?”

              The girl backed away, totally terrified. “You . . . y-y-you spoke!”

              Dara felt his arm slip under her knees and he lifted her effortlessly. She wrapped her arms around his neck and closed her eyes. She felt impossibly small like this, but she felt safer. She totally lost her appetite. Her stomach churned and her head swam.

              She finally looked up. He was heading toward the women’s bathroom.

              “You can’t go in there,” she said.

              He turned and headed toward the nurse.

              “I don’t want to go that way, either.”

              “What do you want?” He sounded perfectly calm after what happened.

              “I want to go home.”

              “We can’t just leave school, noona.”

              “I don’t care. I want to leave this place.”

              “Please send Park Sandara and Choi Seunghyun to the front office with their things to go home,” came the voice of the secretary over the PA system.

              What? It was like someone heard them. Who could have seen what happened in the cafeteria and called the front office so quickly?

              “I can walk,” Dara said. Seunghyun put her down and they walked together to their lockers. She hugged his arm as they walked. She felt sick.

              “Noona?”

              Dara realized she was just spinning the combination lock without stopping on any of the right numbers. Seunghyun shooed her hands away and put in her combination for her. He grabbed her backpack and phone and handed them to her, closing the door.

              “Where are your things?”

              He shrugged and shook his head.

              “You don’t have anything?”

              “Not today. Let’s go home.”

              She nodded slowly. He leaned down and kissed her quickly, taking her hand into both of his. They began the long, slow walk on the way to freedom.

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A/N: It wasn't nearly as fluffy as I had expected or anticipated lol. The last part just sort of happened all at once, and I wanted to capture it in words before it totally flew away from me. I rather liked writing this one, Grace! Thank you for the prompt! I hope you liked it~~ I apologize for spelling and grammatical errors. Just tell me if something doesn't work or flow right and I will gladly fix it ^^