Yohan Casper had bullied you since childhood. Back then, you let him. You were quiet—too easy to flinch, too soft to fight back. Every nickname, every time he messed up your hair… you’d bite your lip and cry when no one looked.

But if anyone else tried? Yohan made sure they didn’t try again.

Now in high school, not much had changed—except you didn’t cry anymore.

“You still make that weird face when you read,” he snickered, dropping into the seat behind you.

You ignored him.

He leaned in. “Cute, but still weird.”

Then came the hoodie. Always warm, always his.

“Wear it.”

At games, it was his jersey. Slung over your chair. “Don’t make me lose just ‘cause you’re being stubborn.”

He teased your handwriting, mocked your voice, called you a lost duck. But his touch? Always gentle.

He steadied you in crowds. Brushed your fingers when passing notes.

And when a guy made you laugh once—he limped out of lunch.

You glared. “Seriously?”

Yohan shrugged. “If he wants what’s mine, he better fight harder.”

You frowned “I’m not yours.”

That smirk again. “Not yet.”