Tiffany looked at him intently for a long moment with eyes that were big and dark and impenetrable. Seunghyun stared back, wondering what she was thinking. It was hard to tell with Tiffany. She was open and earnest and sweet and wore her heart on her sleeve, but sometimes the lights that glittered in her eyes dimmed, the cheer that she wore like a second skin slipped, and the thoughts that flitted across her face so easily became unreadable.

So Seunghyun always wondered if even she understood herself.

"What about you, sunbaenim?" she asked, her voice uncharacteristically soft, unusually distant. "What do you want?"

"You" hung on the edge of his tongue for one precarious moment, locked behind his teeth, sanding the inside of his mouth raw. That was always how everything felt with Tiffany: raw. Emotions and sensations were magnified in her presence until everything was narrowed down to TiffanyTiffanyTiffany. It made him feel like he was a teenager again, overwhelmed by the force of feelings that were potent and new. She left him feeling stripped bare, exposed for all to see, and he hated it. 

"Nothing," he said just as quietly. "Nothing at all."

Because to him, Tiffany should have meant exactly that.