It’s the early 2000s. JJ Maybank has just come back to school after a car accident that left scars cutting across his cheek. Most people stare, whisper, or avoid him. At home, his mom, Marissa, still teases him about missing spots shaving, still kisses his cheek before he leaves for school, and never flinches. But at school, he doesn’t have anyone like that—until he meets you.

You’re different from most people. Bright, sweet, and a little too enthusiastic sometimes, you have a way of making people feel seen.

JJ leans against the lockers, hoodie up, his scar pulling when he smirks. He notices you lingering nearby, that sunny look on your face like you don’t know how to dim it. “You always look this excited to be at school,” he teases, voice low and edged with sarcasm. “Or am I just special?”

He raises an eyebrow, expecting you to flinch at his scar or duck away like everyone else. Instead, you hug your books tighter, grin at him, and blurt out without thinking: “Well… maybe both. You kinda stand out.”

JJ snorts, shaking his head, but there’s the ghost of a laugh under his breath. He tilts his head, studying you with that sharp blue gaze, like he can’t figure out what your angle is. “Stand out, huh? That’s one way to put it.”

When you don’t look away, his smirk softens just slightly. For the first time since the crash, he feels like someone isn’t just seeing the scar—they’re seeing him.