The afternoon sky slowly shifted colors as they sat on a bench in the back garden of the school. The wind blew gently, carrying the scent of damp grass left behind by the rain earlier that day.
Bomi stared down at her shoes. Her fingers were tightly intertwined on her lap, a habit she never noticed until moments like this—when her thoughts felt too loud to control.
Hanz sat beside her. Not too close. Not too far. Just close enough for his presence to feel steady and real.
"I'm not good with words," Hanz said suddenly. His voice was low, almost swallowed by the rustling leaves. "So… if I say something wrong, tell me."
Bomi turned to look at him. "You don't usually worry about that."
"That's because I usually stay quiet."
He glanced at her briefly. "But with you, it doesn't feel right to keep doing that."
Her heart skipped. Just slightly—but enough.
Hanz let out a slow breath. "When you were crying earlier… I didn't know what I was supposed to do."
He paused. "But I knew one thing."
"What?" Bomi asked softly.
"I don't like seeing you blame yourself."
She gave a small, bitter smile. "I'm used to it."
"Then stop getting used to it," Hanz replied without hesitation. "You're not someone who has to keep giving in."
He reached into his bag and pulled out a can—still warm—from the vending machine.
"Here," he said simply.
Bomi accepted it with both hands. "You bought this… for me?"
"It's sweet," Hanz answered. "They say it helps when someone's feeling down."
She laughed quietly. Genuinely—for the first time that day.
"Where did you hear that?"
"The internet."
The answer was stiff. Awkward, even.
But the intention behind it was unmistakable—and that alone made warmth spread through her chest.
They sat in silence for a while.
It wasn't uncomfortable.
It didn't need to be filled.
"Hanz," Bomi finally said, her voice barely above a whisper. "If I look okay… that doesn't mean I'm strong."
He turned toward her fully now.
"I know," he said. "That's why you don't have to be strong around me."
Her eyes shimmered, but no tears fell this time.
"You're strange," she murmured.
"Why?"
"You make people feel safe," she said, "without saying much."
Hanz was quiet for a moment. Then he answered honestly.
"Because I care."
The word was simple.
Unpolished.
Not wrapped in anything sweet.
And yet, it pressed heavily against Bomi's heart.
The evening wind grew cooler. Without realizing it, the distance between them narrowed. Their arms nearly touched.
For a brief moment, Bomi wished time would stop right there.
With someone who didn't force her to smile—
someone who was willing to stay, quietly, until she was ready.