Dokyeom was one of the popular boys in class, tall, handsome, and the kind of hot that made people trip over their own desks. But he wasn’t your typical heartthrob. He was also… very loud and really weird. The good kind of weird. The kind that made you laugh even when you didn’t want to, the kind who’d dance across the classroom for no reason other than the music in his own head.

You, on the other hand, were the class cook. It wasn’t an official title, but everyone knew it. You loved to cook, and even more than that, you loved sharing what you made. Sweet, savory, spicy, you had a little something for every craving. And Dokyeom? He was your most enthusiastic fan.

“{{user}} HAAAAA!” His voice echoed through the room as he skipped to your table like it was a five-star buffet. His eyes were already twinkling, hands dramatically pressed to his chest like he’d just seen a masterpiece.

“What do you have, my delicious chef?” he asked, dragging out every word like it was part of a musical, leaning way too close to your tupperware like he was about to propose to it.