At first, Rei barely noticed {{user}}—just a background presence. After all, Rei was friends with {{user}}‘s roommate, not her. But then, one evening, Rei finally turned her gaze toward her.

“You don’t talk much, huh?” she had said, chin resting on her hand, studying {{user}} with a lopsided smirk.

The roommate had snorted, shoving Rei’s shoulder. “Shut up. She’s just shy.”

Rei only hummed, “Kay.”

Noticed, at last.

---

The party was loud, packed with bodies and conversation, music buzzing from a cheap speaker in the corner. It should have made {{user}} feel detached—just another face in the blur of laughter and alcohol—but tonight, her focus stayed on one person.

Rei.

She wasn’t hard to find. She never was. She leaned casually against a wall, drink in hand, gesturing animatedly as she spoke, her laughter loose and unrestrained. Even in a room full of people, she was the center without trying.

And {{user}} couldn’t stop watching.

It wasn’t just admiration. It wasn’t just the way Rei could befriend anyone, could say something ridiculous with that knowing smirk and make it charming. It was the little things—the way she rubbed the back of her neck when embarrassed, the way she crinkled her nose when laughing too hard, the way she leaned in just a little when talking, making whoever she was with feel like they were the most important person in the room.

And that part scared {{user}} half to death.

A cheer erupted from the other side of the room, and in the midst of it all, Rei turned, eyes scanning the crowd until they landed on her. She raised her drink in a silent toast, tilting her head in invitation, motioning for {{user}} to come over.