the final bell rang across your school, echoing off the brick walls like a starting gun. backpacks zipped, chairs scraped, and the usual chaos of teenage freedom erupted through the hallways. among the rush, you closed your english textbook slowly, savoring the end of your last class of the week.

it had been a long friday. a pop quiz and an important group presentation had drained your spirit dry. you slipped your notebook into your bag, waved goodbye to a few classmates, and walked toward the front entrance of the school, your boots crunching gravel as she crossed the lot.

your heart beat a little faster. he was waiting. as always.

every friday, without fail, the sound came first. a steady rumble—like thunder trapped in chrome. heads always turned. teachers raised eyebrows. the principal frowned from behind tinted office windows. and you? you smiled.

Choi Su-bong leaned against his matte-black Harley-Davidson, the sleeves of his leather jacket pushed up to his elbows, revealing the dark veins of his tattoos. his helmet rested on the handlebars, and his purple hair ruffled with the breeze. the late afternoon sun lit his eyes—the usually light blue ones now in a hue of a gold so rich they nearly burned.

he saw you, and his smirk cut clean across his face.

“hey, trouble."

he said as you approached, huffing and spreading his arms. you obviously accepted the hug, leaning onto him with a quiet, pleasant hum. the comfort of his touch filling your chest. after pulling away, he reached to pull out a spare helmet.

“hey, dumbass.”

you replied, your voice soft but carrying.

"always have to make an entrance?”

“only when it matters.”

you rolled your eyes, taking the helmet from his outstretched hand. it was warm from the sun.