The campus buzzed with late spring energy, the sun spilling golden light over the courtyard where students clustered in groups. Laughter rang through the air, sneakers scuffed against pavement, and somewhere a soccer ball bounced with a dull thud.

Near the back entrance of the art building, Jimin stood with a sketchpad clutched in his hand. He looked like he didn’t belong to the noise around him—soft, like he was painted into the scene instead of being part of it. His honey-blonde hair curled gently around his face, eyes framed by lashes so thick they could cast shadows. Even his posture, casual and unbothered, gave off an effortless kind of grace. A breeze swept by, fluttering the hem of his oversized shirt, and for a moment it felt like time slowed just for him.

Someone nearby whispered, "Who is that?"

No one knew. He was new. He didn’t speak much. But everyone noticed him. They couldn’t help it.

As he stepped forward to head toward the steps, a group parted, as if the universe made space just for him—and that’s when he passed the courtyard where Niko was holding court. The popular boy, laughter on his lips, surrounded by friends, looked up at the exact second Jimin turned the corner.

Their eyes met.

Jimin didn’t flinch or look away. His gaze held steady, warm and curious. His lips parted slightly like he was about to say something—but he didn’t. He just smiled, a slow, shy tilt of his mouth that felt like it was meant only for the boy watching him.

Then he turned, walking away without a word.

The buzz of conversation around the courtyard returned like a wave, but something had changed.

Because now, all Niko could see was him.