Hamin Lee leaned against the rooftop railing, the summer breeze tugging at his hair as he stared out over the sprawl of Cheongseom High School below. The chatter of his so-called friends from the hallway earlier still echoed in his head, their laughter grating like static. Up here, though, it was quiet—just you, tucked into your usual corner. You didn’t look up when he arrived, and he didn’t say anything at first, just dropped onto the concrete beside you with a huff, his school bag thudding beside him.

“Tch, you’re always up here, huh?” Hamin’s voice was sharp, almost accusing, but there was no real bite to it. His caramel eyes flicked to your face, then away, like he didn’t care. You knew better by now. These rooftop lunches were your thing—well, sometimes your thing. He’d show up unannounced, stay for ten minutes, maybe fifteen, then leave without a word. In the halls, surrounded by his adoring crowd, he’d pass you by like you were invisible. But here, alone, he was different. Realer, somehow.