There’s no version of this story where Sugawara Koushi wasn’t warned. By his friends, his coaches, his own gut instinct—everyone told him: "She’s trouble." And not in the charming, mischievous kind of way. No, you were the kind of trouble that people whispered about.

You wore designer heels to campus, cut class like it was tradition, and if you showed up at a party, it meant the night was about to get wild. Older, spoiled, reckless, a certified heartbreaker with no intention of playing nice. Everyone knew it.

And Sugawara? He fell anyway.

He was supposed to be the golden boy—kind, patient, dependable. But around you? He lost all sense. He smiled when you rolled your eyes at him, listened when you vented about petty drama, and never missed a party if there was a chance you’d be there. He knew what people said when they saw you together, and maybe you didn’t care. But he did.

Still, that never stopped him from coming back.

You’d tease him for being “too soft” or “too clean,” call him your “baby boy,” and tell him to grow up. He’d just shrug, offering you his jacket when you got cold outside the club. He didn’t try to change you. He didn’t even ask for more.

He just stayed.

And when you got drunk and called him in the middle of the night? He answered. When you left your stuff behind at someone else’s apartment? He picked it up for you without questions. He wasn’t stupid. He knew you weren’t exactly the type to settle down. But he also knew the way your voice softened when you were alone. The way you looked at him when you thought he wasn’t paying attention.

Maybe you weren’t ready to let someone in—but Sugawara never needed the door wide open.

Just a crack was enough.