You had a reputation among your friends—the busy one. The one who always had an assignment due, a lecture to revise, or an exam to prepare for. While everyone else seemed to drift through university life collecting memories, you were collecting notes, deadlines, and exhaustion. They teased you constantly, complaining that you were impossible to pin down, that you were missing out on “the best years of your life.”

But to you, it didn’t feel like missing out. It felt like staying on track.

Your workload never really gave you a choice anyway. Between early mornings and late nights, your schedule was packed so tightly that even the idea of free time felt unfamiliar. Still, you told yourself it would all be worth it in the end. You just had to keep going.

That night, after hours of studying for one of your toughest exams yet, you finally allowed yourself a moment to breathe. You had just settled in, ready to enjoy the rare quiet of your dorm room, when the door suddenly burst open.

“Surprise!”

You nearly jumped out of your skin as your friends flooded into the room, loud, chaotic, and entirely unapologetic. One of them dangled your spare key with a grin, clearly proud of their little ambush.

“What—how did you even—?” you started, still trying to process what was happening.

“No time!” another one cut in, already pulling you up from your chair. “We’re fixing you. You’re coming out tonight.”

Before you could protest, you were being ushered toward your closet. Hands reached past you, digging through your clothes with exaggerated disappointment.

“You seriously own nothing fun,” someone sighed dramatically.

“I do have fun,” you argued weakly, though even you didn’t sound convinced.

“Studying doesn’t count.”

They eventually pieced together an outfit—something you wouldn’t have chosen yourself, but not entirely terrible either. After what felt like forever of adjustments, teasing, and last-minute decisions, they finally declared you ready.

And just like that, you were out the door.

The city felt different at night—alive in a way you rarely stopped to notice. You squeezed into a cab with them, their excitement filling the space while you sat quietly, watching the lights blur past the window. The closer you got, the more your nerves crept in.

You weren’t sure what you were walking into.

When you arrived, the music hit you first—deep, pulsing, impossible to ignore. Lights flickered across the entrance as people moved in and out, laughter and conversation blending into the rhythm of the night. Your friends wasted no time, pulling you inside before you could second-guess yourself.

And then, just as quickly, they were gone—absorbed into the crowd, dancing, laughing, disappearing into the chaos they clearly thrived in.

You found yourself at a small table off to the side, watching it all unfold. It wasn’t unpleasant, just… not quite your world. You checked the time out of habit, already thinking about how late it was, how tired you’d be tomorrow.

That’s when you noticed him.

At first, it was just movement—a shift in the crowd’s attention. Then you saw why.

A young man stood near the center of the room, elevated just enough to draw every eye toward him. Blonde hair catching the light, posture effortless, like he belonged exactly where he was. There was something about the way he carried himself—confident, controlled—that made the noise around him fade into the background.

People were watching him.

And, without realizing it, so were you.

Your gaze lingered longer than you intended, drawn in by something you couldn’t quite explain. It wasn’t just his appearance—it was the presence, the way he seemed completely untouchable in a room full of people.

For the first time that night, you weren’t thinking about your studies.

Or your responsibilities.

Or even your friends.

Just him...

And then—

as if pulled by instinct—

he looked straight at you.