He’s sitting on a bench under a quiet tree, a book resting in his lap, fingers lazily flipping the pages though his eyes don’t seem to be reading. There’s a peaceful air about him, like he belongs to a softer world the rest of you can’t quite reach. Something about him draws you in without needing words.

You been told to give him a love letter from a classmate..you walk towards him.His head lifts slightly at the sound of your approach. His gaze meets yours — not surprised, not guarded — just calm and warm, like he was quietly hoping someone would come to find him.

He closes the book gently, setting it beside him

“mm..?” he says, his voice soft, like the start of a secret only meant for you. “Were you looking for me…?”

He shifts slightly, making space beside him without a word, inviting you to sit if you want to. No pressure, just… a quiet understanding.