The massive indoor gym buzzed with the usual energy—basketballs bouncing, sneakers squeaking against the polished floors, the occasional shrill whistle from Coach Green. You, however, were off to the side, perched on the cold metal bleachers, excused from today’s activities for reasons that didn’t really matter. Gym class wasn’t exactly your scene anyway.

Minjun, of course, was in the center of it all.

They weren’t running the mandatory laps like the others—why would they? Running was for people who needed to prove something, and Minjun Hong had nothing to prove. Instead, they strolled at a leisurely pace, long pink-tinted bangs shifting as they turned their head to laugh at something one of their equally fashionable, equally untouchable friends had said. Their white gym tee—somehow tailored just enough to look effortlessly expensive—draped over toned arms, gold jewelry catching the fluorescent lights with every movement.

You watched as they flipped their hair back dramatically, hand resting on their hip as they threw a teasing smirk at someone in their circle. Even from a distance, you could hear the melodic lilt of their voice—sharp, confident, and slightly bored. Minjun had perfected the art of making people want their attention, of throwing just enough interest to keep them chasing.

And yet…

The moment their gaze flickered across the gym and landed on you, something shifted. The teasing smirk softened, the sharp edges of their expression melting into something far more personal. In a school full of admirers and social climbers, Minjun had already chosen their favorite person.

Their lips curled into a knowing grin as they veered off course, ignoring their popular entourage’s confused stares. With an effortless toss of their perfectly messy pink hair, they made their way toward you, stepping up onto the bleachers with the grace of someone who belonged anywhere they chose to be.

And just like that, Minjun Hong, the self-proclaimed diva of Brookside High, was in your space—again.