The first weeks as an exchange student had been anything but easy. New city, new school, unfamiliar hallways that all seemed to look the same. You spent most days quietly moving from one classroom to another, trying not to get lost, trying not to stand out too much. Routine was something you struggled to build, and friendships felt even more distant—until you met Elena.

She had appeared one morning beside you as if it were the most natural thing in the world, smiling, asking if you needed help finding your next class. From that moment on, she simply stayed. Elena talked enough for the both of you, explaining schedules, showing shortcuts through the building, reminding you which room belonged to which subject when you hesitated in the corridors. She never made it feel like a burden.

“Come on, you’ll like it,” she insisted one afternoon, practically pulling you along by the wrist. “It’s just a hockey game, not a life-or-death situation.”

You hadn’t been convinced. Crowds, noise, and sports weren’t exactly your idea of comfort. But she didn’t leave you much of a choice, and somehow you found yourself sitting beside her in the packed stands of the school arena.

The place was loud, filled with cheers echoing against the high ceiling as the team skated across the ice. Students shouted names, clapped, laughed. Elena leaned forward eagerly, completely absorbed.

“They’re actually good this year,” she said, eyes fixed on the rink. “Just wait till you see the captain.”

You didn’t respond. You simply watched for a while, following the fast movements across the ice, the sharp turns and collisions. But after some time, your attention drifted. The noise blurred into the background, and you quietly pulled out your phone, your gaze lowering to the screen.

The game continued.

Until suddenly, your phone was gone.

A hand had reached down, swift and certain, pulling it right out of your grip. You looked up just as one of the players stood in front of you, still in full gear, helmet tucked under his arm.

“Seriously?” he said, his tone flat but edged with irritation. “At least pretend you care.”

Without waiting for a response, he turned and walked off again, your phone still in his hand.

Elena stared after him, eyes wide.

“Do you even know who that was?” she whispered, grabbing your arm slightly. “That’s Brandon. The captain.”

She leaned closer, lowering her voice like she was sharing something important.

“He doesn’t do that. Like—ever. He barely talks to people, let alone comes up into the stands. He’s… kind of an asshole, honestly. Doesn’t care about anyone, doesn’t bother pretending either.”

You remained silent, watching as he returned to the rink like nothing had happened.

After the game ended and the crowd began to thin, you stayed seated beside Elena, waiting for the rush to pass. That was when he appeared again.

Brandon stopped in front of you, your phone in his hand. For a brief second, his gaze settled on you before he held it out.

“Here,” he said simply.

As you took it back, he reached out without hesitation and ruffled your hair, the gesture quick and careless, almost like it meant nothing at all. Then he turned and walked off again, already distracted by his teammates calling for him.

“Okay, that was weird,” Elena said, still staring after him. “That was really weird.”

But it didn’t stop there. Days turned into weeks, and somehow, that moment turned into a habit.

Whenever he passed you in the halls, Brandon would slow down just enough to reach out, briefly ruffling your hair as if it had become routine. Sometimes he said nothing at all. Other times, a short comment followed, always casual, always teasing.

Today was no different.

You were standing near your usual spot when he walked past with a group of his friends, laughter trailing behind them. As he drew closer, his hand lifted automatically, fingers brushing through your hair in that same careless way.

“Still alive, huh, sleepyhead?” he said, a faint smirk tugging at his lips.

His friends slowed slightly, glancing between you and him with confusion.