"Everyone, partner up."
Liz barely looked up from her desk. Group projects meant the same thing every time: she'd finish it alone.
The teacher scanned the classroom with a clipboard in hand.
"Let's save time. I've made the pairs for Project 4A."
Great.
Liz tensed as names started getting called out. She waited.
"Elizabeth Kang… and Jeon Wonwoo."
A beat of silence.
Heads turned.
Someone whispered, "That's the quietest pair in school."
Liz didn't react. Neither did Wonwoo.
He just closed his notebook and stood.
She followed.
---
They sat in the back of the classroom, side by side.
"Photography and sketching," the teacher said. "Capture a moment from the city and present it from two perspectives—visual and written."
Wonwoo nodded slightly.
Liz said nothing.
They were dismissed early to plan.
---
The hallway outside was bright but strangely quiet. Liz expected him to walk ahead, but he waited for her instead.
"You okay with rooftops?" he asked, barely louder than the lockers clicking shut behind them.
Liz glanced at him, surprised he spoke first.
She nodded. "As long as it's not someone's house."
He cracked the tiniest smile—barely there.
"I know a place."
---
It was a building near the edge of the city. An old record store with access to a rooftop overlooking the skyline. The sun was just starting to dip, and the lights below were flickering on, one by one.
Liz sat on a crate, sketchpad on her knees.
Wonwoo crouched nearby, adjusting his camera lens, completely focused.
She looked at him through her lashes.
He didn't talk much.
But somehow, the silence didn't feel awkward.
It felt… synced.
Click.
He took a shot of the horizon.
Then one of the traffic below.
Then, without warning—
Click.
He took a photo of her.
She blinked. "Did you just—?"
"You moved," he said simply. "I liked it better when you weren't posing."
She raised an eyebrow, but her lips curled just slightly.
"…Let me see."
He turned the camera screen toward her.
She expected it to be awkward. She hated photos.
But in the picture, she looked… calm. Focused. Real.
Not perfect. But not pretending.
"Keep it," he said.
She paused. "What about you?"
He didn't answer.
Instead, he handed her a folded square of film photo paper from his bag.
> Some things are better in print.
It was the first photo of the night.
And she was in it.