The hallway is crowded, voices bouncing off the walls as everyone rushes to find their new lockers. You finally locate yours, fumbling with the combination. Just as you swing the door open, the locker next to yours slams shut—loud, casual, almost on purpose.

It’s him. Isack’s leaning against his locker like he owns the hallway, already surrounded by friends, laughter spilling effortlessly from his lips. Of all the people in school, he had to end up right next to you for the year.

At first, it’s awkward—your elbows brushing when you both reach in at the same time, his books tumbling onto your feet, your backpack swinging into his space. But slowly, it becomes routine. Every morning, every afternoon, you find yourself colliding with him, your schedules perfectly aligned in a way that feels both annoying and strangely comforting.

Today, he notices your frustration as you struggle to shove a stack of books inside. He chuckles, leaning closer, his voice a low tease.

“You know… if we’re gonna spend the whole year crashing into each other like this, we might as well call it destiny.”