Snow melted by morning.
Seoul looked washed — softer somehow.
But Seo-yeon felt restless.
Last night replayed in her head on an endless loop.
His hand over hers.
"You're important."
"I can promise I won't believe them."
It felt too intimate for something that technically meant nothing.
They weren't dating.
They hadn't confessed.
They hadn't crossed any lines.
So why did it feel like they had?
Ji-hoon arrived before her again.
Seat 3B.
Back straight.
Expression unreadable.
When she slid into her seat, their eyes met for half a second longer than usual.
A silent acknowledgment of last night.
No teasing.
No sarcasm.
Just… awareness.
Min-jung noticed.
Of course she did.
Her gaze flicked between them during homeroom.
Calculating.
But today she didn't whisper.
She didn't smirk.
She just watched.
That unsettled Seo-yeon more than anything.
During lunch, Seo-yeon stayed back in class to finish reviewing chemistry notes.
She didn't feel like facing the cafeteria's buzzing atmosphere.
The classroom was quiet.
Peaceful.
She walked toward the window to adjust the curtain—
And noticed something on Ji-hoon's desk.
A small black notebook.
Different from his usual textbooks.
It had fallen slightly open.
She hesitated.
She shouldn't look.
She absolutely shouldn't—
A breeze from the hallway flipped the page.
And her eyes caught a line.
"겨울은 차갑지만, 너는 따뜻하다."
Winter is cold, but you are warm.
Her heart stilled.
That line.
It sounded familiar.
Too familiar.
Her fingers moved before her brain could stop them.
She stepped closer.
The handwriting was unmistakably his.
Neat.
Precise.
But softer than she expected.
She read another line.
"눈이 내려도, 네가 웃으면 봄이 된다."
Even if snow falls, when you smile, it becomes spring.
Her breath caught.
This wasn't homework.
This wasn't math.
This wasn't something logical and calculated.
This was—
Poetry.
And it was beautiful.
Her name wasn't written anywhere.
But she knew.
She knew.
"Looking for something?"
She froze.
The voice came from the doorway.
Ji-hoon stood there.
Still.
Watching.
Her face burned instantly.
"I— I wasn't—"
"You were reading."
It wasn't a question.
Her fingers quickly closed the notebook.
"I'm sorry."
He walked toward her slowly.
Not angry.
Not amused.
Just… guarded.
"You weren't supposed to see that."
Her chest tightened.
"Why?"
He stopped in front of her.
Because that wasn't something Ji-hoon could answer easily.
He had always been precise with words.
Controlled.
Measured.
But poetry wasn't controlled.
It was vulnerable.
"It's nothing," he said finally.
"It's not nothing."
She held the notebook out to him gently.
"It's beautiful."
He didn't take it immediately.
"You don't have to pretend."
"I'm not."
She swallowed.
"Did you write it about someone?"
The question hung between them.
Dangerous.
Unavoidable.
His jaw tightened slightly.
"Yes."
Her stomach dropped.
Oh.
Of course.
Why wouldn't he?
He was smart.
Handsome.
Everyone liked him.
Why had she assumed—
But then he added quietly—
"You."
The room felt too small again.
Too warm.
Her pulse roared in her ears.
"Me?" she whispered.
He finally took the notebook from her hands.
"You weren't supposed to know yet."
"Yet?"
His eyes met hers.
Dark.
Honest.
"I don't say things I'm not sure about."
She remembered what he told her in the library.
"I'm not certain about most things."
But he had sounded certain last night.
And now—
Her throat felt dry.
"Since when?" she asked softly.
He hesitated.
Then:
"The first day."
Her mind replayed that memory.
The chalkboard.
The silence.
Her walking in.
"You didn't even smile at me," she said faintly.
"I noticed."
Her heart did something dangerous.
Something reckless.
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"You were leaving," he replied simply.
Busan.
Rumors.
She had been guarded.
Closed off.
He had seen that too.
"And now?" she asked.
"Now you're here."
The honesty in his voice made her chest ache.
She had never met someone like him before.
Someone who didn't rush.
Didn't dramatize.
But felt deeply.
"Ji-hoon…" she whispered.
Her fingers trembled slightly.
"I don't know how to do this."
"Do what?"
"This."
She gestured between them.
The tension.
The closeness.
The unspoken gravity pulling them together.
"I've never liked someone like this before," she admitted.
The words felt terrifying.
Exposed.
He stepped closer.
Not touching her yet.
Just close enough that she could feel the warmth radiating from him.
"Like what?" he asked softly.
She looked up at him.
"Like it matters."
Silence.
Then—
His hand lifted slowly.
Carefully.
Brushing a strand of hair behind her ear.
The same gentle movement from last night.
Only this time, he didn't step back.
"Seo-yeon," he said quietly.
"응?"
(Yeah?)
"If I say it, I won't take it back."
Her heart pounded violently now.
"Say it."
His thumb brushed lightly against her cheek.
Barely there.
But enough to make her knees weak.
"I like you."
Not dramatic.
Not cinematic.
Just steady.
Certain.
Her breath left her in a shaky exhale.
"I know," she whispered.
His brows lifted slightly.
"You know?"
She nodded faintly.
"I think… I like you too."
He didn't smile widely.
He didn't celebrate.
But something in his eyes softened completely.
Like a wall quietly collapsing.
"Think?" he teased gently.
She hit his shoulder lightly.
"Don't ruin it."
A rare laugh escaped him.
Soft.
Low.
And it did something dangerous to her heart.
They stood there for a long moment.
Neither moving away.
The air felt different now.
Less tense.
More real.
"So what happens now?" she asked.
"Now," he replied calmly, "we study."
She stared at him.
"Are you serious?"
"Yes."
She groaned dramatically.
He smirked.
"But," he added, "after midterms… we can go somewhere."
Her heart skipped.
"Like… a date?"
"Yes."
The word settled warmly between them.
"Okay," she whispered.
"Okay," he echoed.
The bell rang suddenly in the hallway.
Reality returning.
Voices approaching.
He stepped back reluctantly.
She adjusted her uniform nervously.
But before other students entered—
He leaned closer one more time.
Close enough that she could feel his breath near her ear.
"Don't read my notebook without permission again."
She shivered.
"I won't."
A pause.
Then he added softly—
"I'll write something new for you instead."
Her cheeks burned bright red.
And for the first time since she arrived in Seoul—
Winter didn't feel like something she had to survive.
It felt like something she wanted to stay in.
That night at 8PM, they studied again.
But this time—
Their hands brushed more easily.
Their glances lingered longer.
And when she smiled at him across the table—
He wrote something new in his notebook.
"오늘부터, 너는 나의 봄이다."
From today, you are my spring.