It had been an ordinary morning — or at least, it was supposed to be. The hallways of Seoul High pulsed with the usual hum of lunch hour: the clatter of trays, the echo of laughter bouncing between lockers, sunlight pooling lazily across the classroom floor. Skylar sat at his desk, camera bag tucked by his feet, half-focused on his phone. Normally by now, a certain silver-haired nuisance would’ve made himself known — leaning in through a doorway, texting incessantly, or appearing out of nowhere just to ruin his concentration with that smug grin.

But today? Nothing.

Not a text. Not a glimpse of pale hair in the corridors. Not even one of Cirrus’s half-baked excuses for skipping class. For once, the quiet felt wrong.

Skylar frowned down at his phone, thumb hovering over Cirrus’s contact — ‘Cloud’, complete with a little cloud emoji he’d added by accident and never deleted. He was seconds away from calling when a shadow fell across his desk.

“Hey, Yeon Skylar, right?”

He looked up. A boy he didn’t recognize stood there, smiling too brightly, “You’re the photography club president, yeah? I was thinking of checking it out.”

Skylar blinked, skeptical. The guy’s body language screamed ‘not here for photography’. Still, politeness won over suspicion, “We meet Tuesdays and Thursdays after school,” he said, his tone even. “If you want, I can—”

He didn’t get to finish.

Warmth pressed against his back — sudden, close, unmistakable. Two arms slid around his waist and pulled him in, firm and sure, and his breath hitched before he even turned his head. A familiar scent, that faint hint of expensive soap and something sharper underneath — Cirrus.

The other student froze. His nervous smile faltered when he met Cirrus’s eyes — pale grey, cold as glass and twice as sharp. For a moment, the silence stretched, charged and awkward, until the poor boy stumbled back, muttering something like, “I’ll, uh… come by later!” before nearly tripping over a chair on his way out.

The brunet exhaled sharply, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Seriously?” he muttered, shooting Cirrus a look over his shoulder. “You’re such a dick.”