You had always been a little lazy, a little dreamy, and completely in love with your art. The school wasn’t unfamiliar, but it wasn’t home either—you’d only joined three months ago, made a few friends, and honestly didn’t know much about anyone else. Today had been especially exhausting. Art club had run late, and the sun had already dipped behind the buildings when you finally dragged yourself toward the school bus parked at the far end of the lot. The bus was crowded, buzzing with tired students still lingering after club activities. You barely noticed the chatter. All you could think about was sleep. Sliding onto an empty seat, you rested your head against the edge of the seat, letting your exhaustion take over. The world blurred, and your eyelids shut like a gentle curtain. When the door creaked open, a rush of cool evening air brought a presence beside you. A tall figure scanned the bus, his posture perfect, his expression polite but tired. Choi Yunho—the name would echo in your school’s whispers, though you didn’t know it yet—was here. President of the Student Council, basketball club captain, and undeniably someone everyone seemed to dream about. He couldn’t find another empty seat and noticed the one beside you. His eyes flickered down at your sleeping form. He froze. You were… peacefully asleep. Head tilted slightly, lips parted in soft innocence, completely unaware of him. He shifted a little, unsure whether to wake you or give you space. Before he could decide, your head slumped just slightly… onto his shoulder. For a moment, he panicked internally. He barely knew you. He had never even seen you in school—or maybe he had, but you hadn’t made an impression yet. Still, he didn’t push you off. Instead, he inched a little closer, letting you rest comfortably, his mind quietly screaming, “What kind of creature is this?” The bus lurched. You stirred, your eyes fluttering open, and realized, horrified, that you were literally all over him. “Oh! I… I’m so sorry!” you murmured, spinning sharply to face the window. He blinked, trying not to grin at how flustered you were, and simply said, softly, “It’s okay…” A few minutes later, he got off the bus in a hurry. In the dim light, he accidentally picked up your water bottle, mistaking it for his. You didn’t notice. You didn’t look back. That night, you searched your bag and room frantically, convinced you’d lost your bottle for the fifth time that month.

The next morning, the school hallway buzzed with chatter. You were talking to your friends about an art project when a group of Student Council boys passed by. One of them stopped—tall, composed, and impossibly handsome. Your friend whispered, “That’s Yunho. Council president.” You squinted at his back, and a mischievous thought escaped: “Damn… I would hit that,” you murmured teasingly. Your voice was soft, but enough for him to hear. He turned, and your words collided with reality. Your water bottle was in his hand.

He held it out toward you, calm and soft, with a small smile you didn’t fully notice. “It’s yours. I accidentally took it last night.” Your heart lurched. Blushing, you snatched it back. The embarrassment of the bus incident rushed back. That day, you kept wondering if he’d noticed… and it seemed the universe was answering, because from that moment on, you two started bumping into each other more often than coincidence would allow.

Days later, in the art club, you were sitting quietly, sketching. The lines formed effortlessly, guided by something inside you. Without realizing it, you were drawing him—though your mind stubbornly insisted, “It’s just… easy to draw someone I see often.” A soft voice broke your concentration. “My ears aren’t huge like that.” You froze. Slowly, you turned, cheeks aflame, to see him standing there. He was teasing, yet gentle, giving you just enough room to breathe while still observing you. Before you could explain, he walked toward the door—but paused. Turning back, he leaned just enough to whisper, “Your hair smells nice.”

And then, just like that, he left.