Hes

The fluorescent lights of the Student Union basement hummed with a low-frequency buzz that Yunho felt in his teeth. He, Mingi, and Jongho sat huddled around a circular table, looking like three mourners at a funeral rather than twenty-year-olds participating in a "Peer Integration and Creative Collaboration" program.

"I’m just saying," Mingi groaned, resting his forehead against the cool wood of the table, "I didn’t sign up to be treated like a ghost. I’m six-foot-tall. I’m loud. How does he just... pretend I don’t exist?"

"He’s not pretending you don’t exist, Mingi. He literally can’t see you," Jongho reminded him, though his voice lacked its usual patient edge. He was busy snapping a stress ball between his palms. "But I get it. The attitude is the problem."

Yunho sighed, checking his watch. "They’re late. Well, Seonghwa isn’t late, he’s probably just navigating the hallway with Hongjoong. We have to be patient. The professor said this was about bridging gaps."

"The only thing we’re bridging is the gap between my sanity and a total meltdown," Mingi muttered. "Seonghwa is an angel, don't get me wrong. He’s the prettiest guy on campus, he tries so hard to make us feel welcome, and his sign language is like watching art. But Hongjoong? Hongjoong is a cactus."

As if summoned by the complaint, the heavy double doors at the end of the hall creaked open.

Park Seonghwa entered first. He was striking, his tall, slim frame draped in a perfectly tailored lilac trench coat that screamed 'Fashion Major.' His dark hair was swept back, revealing a face that looked carved from porcelain. Following closely behind, with one hand lightly gripping Seonghwa’s elbow, was Kim Hongjoong.

Hongjoong was a stark contrast. He was significantly shorter, his head barely reaching Seonghwa's shoulder. His hair was a shock of bleached blond, messy and soft-looking. He wore oversized, thick black-rimmed glasses that took up half of his face, and a chunky knit sweater that looked three sizes too big. In his free hand, he clutched a folding cane and a braille note-taker.

Seonghwa caught Yunho’s eye and offered a bright, apologetic smile. He raised his hand, fingers dancing in a fluid motion of Korean Sign Language while simultaneously speaking in his distinct, melodic deaf accent.

"Hello, everyone. Sorry... we are late," Seonghwa said, the vowels elongated and soft, his voice carrying that unique, airy quality. "The elevator... it was broken. We had to use the stairs."

"It’s fine, Seonghwa-hyung," Yunho said, standing up to pull out chairs. "We just got here too."

Hongjoong didn’t move. He stood stiffly, his head tilted slightly to the side as if he were trying to map the room through sound alone. His glasses were slightly crooked.

"Hongjoong-ah," Seonghwa murmured, gently guiding the blond man toward a chair.

Hongjoong’s mouth thinned into a hard line. He sat down, his movements precise and defensive. He tucked his cane away and immediately pulled his laptop toward him, his fingers flying over the keys to activate his screen reader.

"Hey, Hongjoong," Mingi said, leaning forward with a forced cheerfulness. "We were thinking about the music theory project. Since you’re the music major, maybe you could—"

"No," Hongjoong snapped.

The table went silent. Hongjoong didn't look up. He didn't even turn his head toward Mingi.

"I haven't even finished the sentence," Mingi said, his voice rising in frustration.

"I don't care," Hongjoong replied, his voice small but incredibly sharp. He leaned closer to Seonghwa, his shoulder brushing the taller man’s arm for comfort. "I already told Seonghwa what I’m doing. He can tell you. I don't talk to strangers."

"We’ve been in this group for a week!" Jongho pointed out, dropping the stress ball. "We aren't strangers anymore. We’re your teammates."

Hongjoong’s jaw tightened. He reached out, his hand searching blindly until it found Seonghwa’s sleeve. He tugged on it twice—a silent signal.

Seonghwa sighed, his expression flickering with a mix of sympathy and exhaustion. He looked at the three sophomores, his hands moving gracefully as he spoke. "He is... shy. Please. He needs time to trust."

"He's not shy, hyung, he's feisty," Yunho countered, trying to keep his voice level. "We want to help. We want to be friends. But he won't even tell us what key the composition is in. He just whispers to you and ignores us like we’re background noise."

Hongjoong suddenly slammed his laptop shut. The sound made everyone jump.

"You’re loud," Hongjoong hissed, his face flushing a deep red. "You’re loud and you move too much. I can hear your feet tapping and your breathing and it’s distracting. I don’t need 'friends' who just want to pity the blind kid for their extra credit grade."

"Nobody pities you!" Mingi blurted out. "We’re annoyed by you! There’s a difference!"

Hongjoong recoiled as if he’d been slapped. He turned his face away, burying his chin in the collar of his sweater. He looked tiny, like a cornered kitten that had run out of hisses.

Seonghwa’s expression shifted instantly from gentle to protective. He placed a firm hand on Hongjoong’s back and glared at Mingi. "Enough," he said, the word sharp despite the softness of his accent. "He is... sensitive. You do not understand."

Seonghwa turned to Hongjoong, his hands moving in small, private signs against Hongjoong’s arm so the blind man could feel the movements—tactile signing. Hongjoong nodded miserably, his blond bangs falling over the top of his thick frames.

"We are leaving," Seonghwa announced, standing up and helping Hongjoong to his feet. "We will work... alone tonight."

The three sophomores watched them go, feeling a heavy mixture of guilt and irritation.

---

"I feel like a jerk," Mingi said two hours later.

They were in Yunho’s dorm room, surrounded by half-eaten ramen cups. The guilt had settled in like a thick fog.

"We shouldn't have yelled," Jongho agreed, staring at his shoes. "But he makes it so hard. I’ve never met someone so closed off. It’s like he’s built a fortress around himself and Seonghwa is the only one with the key."

"It’s because they understand each other," Yunho said thoughtfully. "One lives in a world without sound, the other in a world without light. They’ve probably spent years relying on each other to navigate a world that wasn't built for them. We’re outsiders."

"I just want to see him smile once," Mingi sighed. "Just once. He looks so stressed all the time."

The following Monday, the group met again in a smaller practice room in the music wing. The atmosphere was tense. Seonghwa was already there, meticulously sketching fashion designs in a notebook while Hongjoong sat at the upright piano, his headphones on, his fingers dancing over the keys without making a sound.

Yunho walked in first, holding five cups of coffee. He set one down near Seonghwa, who beamed and signed a quick 'Thank you.'

Yunho hesitated, then placed a caramel macchiato—extra sweet, as Seonghwa had mentioned Hongjoong liked—near the piano.

Hongjoong froze. He didn't take his headphones off, but he stopped playing. He reached out a trembling hand, his fingers skimming the surface of the table until they brushed the warm plastic of the cup. He didn't say anything, but he didn't push it away either.

"Hongjoong-ah," Seonghwa said, tapping the younger man’s shoulder. "The boys... they brought coffee. They want to say sorry."

Hongjoong pulled his headphones down around his neck. He looked toward the general direction of the door, his expression guarded. "I don't like apologies. They feel like lies."

"It's not a lie," Jongho said, stepping into the room. "We were frustrated, and we took it out on you. We’re sorry, Hongjoong. We really want to make this work."

Hongjoong bit his lip. He looked incredibly young in the harsh light of the practice room, his blond hair glowing like a halo. "I'm... I'm not good at people," he whispered, his voice so low they had to lean in to hear. "Everything is too much. The world is too big and too loud, and I can't see where the edges are. Seonghwa is the only one who feels safe."

Mingi softened, his tall frame slouching as his heart broke a little. "We can be safe too. If you let us."

Hongjoong looked down at the coffee cup. Slowly, tentatively, he reached up to his face. "My glasses... they’re fogging up from the steam."

He reached for the bridge of the thick, black frames and pulled them off to wipe them on his sweater.

For the first time since they had met him, the three sophomores saw Kim Hongjoong’s eyes.

The silence that followed wasn't the awkward, heavy silence of the previous week. It was a silence of pure, unadulterated awe.

Without the thick, distorting lenses and the heavy frames, Hongjoong’s face was transformed. His eyes were large and shaped like perfect almonds, framed by long, pale lashes that cast soft shadows on his cheekbones. But it was the color that stopped their breath. They were a deep, swirling mahogany, clear and glassy, reflecting the light in a way that made them look like precious gems.

Because they were sightless, they didn't focus on any one point. They wandered slightly, unfocused and vulnerable, giving him an ethereal, otherworldly appearance. He looked like a doll, delicate and breathtakingly beautiful.

Mingi let out a soft, unintentional gasp.

Hongjoong flinched, his hand freezing with the glasses halfway back to his face. "What? Is there something on my face?"

"No," Yunho breathed, his voice full of wonder. "No, Hongjoong. You’re... you’re beautiful."

Hongjoong’s entire face turned a vivid shade of pink. He quickly shoved his glasses back on, hiding those stunning eyes behind the thick glass once more. He looked like he wanted to crawl into the piano.

"Don't say things like that," Hongjoong mumbled, his feisty attitude replaced by a paralyzing shyness. "You’re just saying that because you feel bad."

"I'm not," Mingi insisted, stepping closer, though he was careful not to startle him. "Seriously, Hongjoong. I’ve never seen eyes like that. They’re like... stars."

Seonghwa watched the exchange, a knowing, gentle smile spreading across his face. He reached over and ruffled Hongjoong’s blond hair. "I told you," Seonghwa signed, and then spoke aloud for the others, "I told him... he is pretty. He doesn't believe me."

Hongjoong huffed, but he didn't pull away from Seonghwa’s touch. He took a small sip of the coffee Yunho had brought, his shoulders finally losing some of their rigid tension.

"The composition," Hongjoong said suddenly, his voice still small but no longer sharp. "It’s in E-flat major. It’s supposed to represent... the feeling of sunlight on your skin when you can't see where it's coming from."

Jongho pulled up a chair, his eyes bright. "That’s amazing. How can we help? I can handle the percussion parts if you tell me the rhythm."

Hongjoong hesitated, then turned his laptop back around. "I have the midi files. If you... if you sit next to me, I can play the main melody."

For the next two hours, the room was filled with the sound of music and the soft rustle of Seonghwa’s sketches. The barrier hadn't disappeared entirely—Hongjoong still jumped at loud noises, and he still checked for Seonghwa’s presence every few minutes—but the fortress walls had lowered just enough for them to see the person inside.

As they packed up to leave, Mingi walked beside Hongjoong, keeping a respectful distance but staying close enough that Hongjoong could track his movement.

"Hey, Hongjoong?" Mingi asked.

"Yeah?"

"I'm glad we’re in this group."

Hongjoong paused, his hand finding the strap of his messenger bag. He didn't look up, and the thick glasses still obscured his eyes, but a tiny, genuine smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.

"Me too," Hongjoong whispered. "Just... don't be so loud next time."

Seonghwa laughed, a bright, staccato sound that filled the hallway. He slung an arm around Hongjoong’s shoulders and gave the three sophomores a thumbs-up.

As the two of them walked away—the tall, elegant fashion student and the small, blond genius—Yunho, Mingi, and Jongho stood in the hallway, feeling like they had just been let into a very exclusive, very beautiful secret.

"We are so dead," Mingi muttered, watching them go.

"Why?" Jongho asked.

"Because," Mingi sighed, "I think I’m going to spend the rest of the semester trying to get him to take those glasses off again."

Yunho laughed, patting Mingi’s shoulder. "Good luck. I think we’re all in the same boat."

In the distance, they saw Hongjoong lean his head against Seonghwa’s shoulder as they turned the corner, the blond hair and the lilac coat disappearing into the afternoon light, finally in harmony.