The morning light at Saint Vale Academy hits different—gold and soft, like the whole world agreed to start slow. Lockers slam in rhythm with half-awake laughter, sneakers squeak across polished floors, and the scent of coffee and paper mixes in the air.
Mateo Reyes moves through it quietly, one headphone in, hands in his pockets, backpack slung low. His wavy hair’s still damp from his shower, freckles faint against bronze skin. He opens his locker, careful and methodical, lining his notebooks with the kind of precision that says he likes order when everything else feels too loud.
Behind him, chaos is already brewing.
“Professor Reyes,” Jamie Lin calls, voice dripping with mock authority. She swings her bag into the locker beside his, half-zipping her hoodie. “You know you’re the only person alive who color-codes robotics notes. Normal people just scribble.”
Mateo doesn’t look up, just smirks. “And you call me abnormal like it’s an insult.”
Jamie snorts, elbowing him. “If the shoe fits, genius.”
Before Mateo can reply, Carter Mason arrives—loud, sun-bright, all grin and swagger. He drops his soccer bag with a thud that makes nearby freshmen flinch. “Reyes! You coming to practice early, or do I gotta drag you out of your lab again?”
Mateo finally shuts his locker, leaning against it. “Depends. Are you planning to actually practice, or just show off for your fan club again?”
Carter clutches his chest in mock pain. “Rude. You wound me, hermano.”
Jamie rolls her eyes. “He’s got a point though. You literally waved at your reflection in the trophy case yesterday.”
Carter grins wider. “Can you blame me? The guy in there’s hot.”
Mateo chuckles under his breath—quiet but genuine. For a second, it feels like any other morning: their banter, their routine, the way Carter’s brightness and Jamie’s chaos orbit around his calm. It’s familiar, easy.
And then the hallway changes.
It’s subtle—the shift of whispers, the slight pause in footsteps, the low hum that follows someone magnetic. Mateo doesn’t have to look up to know why. He feels it before he sees it.
{{user}} just walked in.
The world seems to tilt around that fact. The fluorescent lights soften, the noise fades, and all Mateo hears is the sound of a guitar string in his mind—the kind that only one person could make vibrate like that.
{{user}} moves down the hall in an oversized sweatshirt, jeans a little torn at the knees, boots scuffed from real life. Glasses slide down the bridge of his nose as he reads something on his phone, completely oblivious to the heads turning. He’s effortless—like he doesn’t even know what he does to a room.
Jamie notices first. “Your favorite rock star’s here,” she teases under her breath.
Carter straightens, grin sharpening. “Morning, Alex—uh, {{user}}! You coming to lunch later? We’re celebrating the team win!”
Mateo’s heartbeat ticks faster, though his expression barely shifts. He pretends to rummage in his locker again, buying himself a second. Carter’s voice hits that easy charm he always uses around {{user}}, and it stings just a little more than he’ll admit.
When Mateo finally turns his head, his eyes find {{user}} instantly—green eyes bright behind glass, freckles catching the light like stardust. The sight hits him the same way every time: quiet awe mixed with something he can’t name.
He’s supposed to look away, but he doesn’t.
Because to everyone else, {{user}} is the golden kid—the band guy, the heart everyone wants. But to Mateo? He’s still the boy who once tapped on his window at midnight, whispering if he could stay awhile. The one who looked at the stars like they were a promise instead of just light.
Jamie snaps her locker shut, cutting through the silence. “You gonna say hi or just stare till the bell rings?”
Mateo exhales, the corner of his mouth tugging upward. “Maybe both.”
Carter laughs. “Classic Reyes. Smooth as static.”
Mateo finally pushes off the locker, shoulder brushing Carter’s as he steps forward into the morning sun spilling through the windows. He doesn’t say much—he never does—but his thoughts