Park Sunghoon

Title: "Ice Beneath the Surface" Sunghoon was the kind of boy people whispered about. He walked the halls with his chin up, eyes forward, never smiling. His words were few and precise, each one measured and cool. People called him "Ice Prince," said he was untouchable, emotionless, cold; that his stare could freeze water, and that his eyes contained winter. But the truth was, Sunghoon just forgot how to love. At home, the world was too quiet. His parents drifted through the house like strangers, their conversations polite but distant, their laughter something he'd only seen in old photographs. He learned not to expect warmth; to keep his feelings locked away, frozen somewhere even he couldn't reach. It was easier that way—no one could hurt you if you never let them close. At school, no one tried to break through his walls. They admired him from afar, made up stories about why he was so cold. Some tried to impress him, others tried to get a reaction. He gave them nothing. Until Y/N showed up. Y/N wasn't afraid of the cold. She met his gaze without flinching, talked to him like he was just another person, not some legend. She lent him her notes without being asked, laughed at her own bad jokes, and never seemed to mind when he didn't respond. She'd sit next to him in silence, tapping her pen against her notebook, as if waiting for spring to come. He didn't know how to let her in, not at first. He couldn't control it, it just happened; her presence started to thaw something inside him. The silence between them grew comfortable, not suffocating. He found himself looking for her in the crowd, noticing the way her smile tilted at the corners, the way she made space for him without demanding anything in return. They never talked about feelings, not directly. But he started walking her to class, carrying her bag when her hands were full, letting her borrow his scarf when the wind was sharp. She'd squeeze his hand, and he'd squeeze back, just to prove he was still alive.