Hanz had never cared about rumors.
People talked.
They judged.
They assumed they knew everything.
Ignoring it had always been easier than explaining.
✦ ✦ ✦
The moment he stepped into the classroom, he felt it.
Whispers that stopped too quickly.
Laughter that sounded forced.
Eyes that lingered—not curious, but critical.
Hanz noticed.
As usual, he didn't react.
He sat down, took out his book, and started writing as if nothing existed beyond his desk.
Indifference was his shield.
✦ ✦ ✦
Then he saw Bomi.
She was standing near the window.
Not surrounded—
cornered.
Someone spoke with a tone that pretended to be caring.
Another crossed their arms, judgment clear.
Others simply nodded, as if the conclusion had already been reached.
Bomi stood in the middle.
Her posture was straight, but her hands were clenched.
Her expression calm—too calm.
Hanz knew that look.
It wasn't strength.
It was endurance.
✦ ✦ ✦
"We're just worried," one of them said.
"You're too kind, Bomi."
"Yeah," another added. "What if he's just playing with you?"
Bomi smiled faintly. "I'm fine."
"But he's weird," the voice continued.
"Cold. Distant. Never looks serious."
Hanz stopped writing.
The tip of his pen pressed too hard against the paper.
"I think—"
"You don't need to say that much."
Bomi cut in gently. Too gently.
And for some reason… it made Hanz's chest tighten.
✦ ✦ ✦
He stood up.
His steps were slow, deliberate.
The conversation died the moment he stopped behind Bomi.
"If you want to talk," Hanz said flatly,
"talk to me."
Every gaze shifted toward him.
The air froze.
"You're talking about me," he continued.
"So don't use her name."
Bomi turned quickly. "Hanz—"
"Give me a second," he said quietly. Not harsh. Just firm.
He looked at the people in front of them.
"I'm not good at showing things," he admitted.
"But I've never played with anyone."
Someone let out a small scoff. "Then what's your proof?"
Hanz looked at Bomi.
For a brief moment, the cold distance on his face cracked.
"I'm here," he said.
"If that's not enough, I don't care."
✦ ✦ ✦
Bomi stared at him.
Something had changed in Hanz's eyes.
Not anger.
Not indifference.
But an emotion he'd kept buried for too long.
Hanz didn't wait for a response.
He turned to Bomi.
"Go back to your seat."
She nodded softly.
As they walked side by side, whispers rose again.
But this time, Hanz didn't ignore them.
His hand moved slightly—almost reaching for Bomi's arm.
It didn't touch.
But it was close enough.
And for the first time, Bomi realized—
Hanz might look like he didn't care about the world.
But when it came to her…
He wasn't cold at all.