The last two months had been the happiest time of his life thus far. While not much had changed in the day-to-day, it felt as if a heavy weight had lifted from his chest. There were no more doubts about how Seojin-a felt about him, no more second-guessing and hoping that Ahn-Bo's true intentions would be figured out. Everything was out in the open between them, and now he could genuinely believe that each touch, glance, and tease that came from him would be received as intended. The fifteen-year-old had quickly become addicted to it, the little excited rush he'd get whenever Seojin-a flirted with him. The delighted shiver he had whenever he was able to get Seojin-a to smile wide enough to reveal that dimple of his. More often than not, whenever he caught a glimpse of it, he had the urge to kiss him. The way that sometimes, even Ahn-Bo had reason to blush.

Every moment they were apart felt like an eternity, and Ahn-Bo would rush back to him as soon as possible. Like now. He'd just finished his early morning quidditch practice. Flying at high speeds in the winter air above the ocean wasn't the most pleasant experience. His nose, ears, and cheeks had the windburn to prove it, and even his lashes were covered in frost by the end of it. Even this didn't keep him from rushing through his post-practice shower (turning it as scaldingly hot as he could in order to warm up as quickly as possible), dressing—the drying spell he'd learned last year was handy—and then scurrying back out the door to find wherever his simkung had gone. Sometimes it took him a bit to find him. But when it was this time of day, Ahn-Bo knew exactly where to go.

He could hear the few notes of a song already being played on the piano. It wasn't one he recognized, nor did it sound like any other song he'd heard before. This was certainly different, and he knew before even seeing him that it was Seojin-a playing it. The interior door to the classroom was open slightly, though not enough for him to slip inside. Ahn-Bo leaned forward to peer through the opening. Seojin-a hadn't noticed his presence yet (or hadn't revealed that he had), and the quidditch player allowed himself to take the moment to admire his simkung. The early morning sunlight filtered in through the classroom's shoji screen windows, illuminating Seojin-a's lean silhouette—the curve of his jawline, the shape of his neck as he bent over the keys of the behemoth instrument he adored, the way the diffused light made his nearly translucent skin appear to glow—all of it made his stomach flutter and his heart race. It was good that they were the only two around then. The absolutely lovesick expression on Ahn-Bo's face just then would have given him away. There would have been no question as to how he felt about his classmate.

And then Seojin-a's gaze met his, and he realized he'd been caught. Ahn-Bo grinned sheepishly as he slid the door open and let himself inside. Though his voice was bright and nearly giddy from having just reunited with his simkung. "Annyeong! What were you playing? It sounds different." He took a moment to shed his outer layers and hang them next to Seojin-a's, smugly noting the red scarf that he pretended had been stolen but he definitely thought of as belonging to Seojin-a now.