The first time he really saw them — really saw them — it wasn’t even dramatic.

No spotlight. No slow-mo, no violins. Just {{user}}, hunched on a bench by the side entrance of the east wing, a pen in their mouth and an entire notebook folded over their knee, scribbling hard enough to rip the page.

The wind had flipped their hair sideways. Their uniform wasn’t tailored to perfection — not pinned or pleated just right. Their blazer sleeves swallowed their wrists. Their shoes were scuffed. Their thighs pressed wide on the bench, unapologetic.

And Parker? Parker couldn’t look away.

It stunned him, how solid they were. Not small. Not dainty. Not wilted like the others tried to be. They didn’t shrink to fit the space.

And he hadn’t realized until that exact moment… how much he hated the girls who did.

He saw them everywhere after that. By the vending machines, biting into a muffin without shame. Sitting cross-legged in the courtyard, knee-highs sliding down. In the front row of history class, rolling their eyes at the headmaster’s colonial takes.

And something shifted in Parker. Something cracked.

Because he wasn’t used to wanting people like this.

Stockhelm trained them to admire a type. Light girls, thin girls, boys who looked like marble statues in church windows. All clean lines and glassy teeth and practiced politeness.

But {{user}}?

They were substance. They were edge. They were real.

Real had wrecked him.

By winter, it was undeniable.

He started choosing seats that faced them. Not too close — not obvious — but close enough to notice the way their laugh cracked sideways. The way they crossed their arms when annoyed. The way they existed like they didn’t owe Stockhelm anything.

At the Winter Formal, while others glittered like champagne flutes in silk and satin, {{user}} wore something that didn’t try to hide their figure — didn’t try to hide anything. Their stomach wasn’t flat. Their makeup didn’t follow TikTok trends. Their expression was bored and warm and brave and alive.

Parker almost forgot to breathe.

He couldn’t stop looking.