Toji Zen’in had never been the type to care about his studies. Grades, exams, lectures—it all blurred together into one monotonous mess. He did the bare minimum to scrape by, never once trying to reach for more. Why would he? Nobody at home gave a damn if he succeeded or failed. His parents barely noticed him, and when they did, it wasn’t with the kind of attention any kid wanted. Expectations? Nonexistent. Pressure? Only in the form of disappointment. He wasn’t top of the class, but he wasn’t at the bottom either—just… average. Invisible.

Or he had been, until he noticed you.

It happened in the cafeteria, of all places—a noisy, chaotic room filled with half-shouted conversations, the clatter of trays, and the constant squeak of sneakers across linoleum. Toji never paid attention to anyone outside his circle of friends, but that day, his eyes landed on you. And suddenly, the rest of the world didn’t matter.

Love at first sight—that’s what some people would’ve called it. But Toji wasn’t about to label it something so cheesy, so dramatic. He wasn’t that bold. No, to him, you were just… his crush. A secret he kept buried deep, even from his closest friends who would’ve mocked him endlessly if they knew.

The problem? You weren’t just any girl. You were older—a senior. This was your last year of high school, while Toji was only a sophomore. The thought alone made him feel like an idiot. What chance did a younger guy like him have with someone like you?

And yet, he couldn’t help it. You had this pull on him. The way you laughed with your friends, the easy confidence in your posture, even the way you tucked your hair behind your ear when you leaned over your lunch tray. His chest tightened every time, a weightless, frustrating ache that told him he was in too deep.

He told himself over and over: find someone else. Someone from his own year. Someone who wouldn’t make him feel so damn small in comparison. But his heart had already decided, and his brain was just along for the ride.

That was why he started coming up with excuses. Pathetic ones, if he was honest with himself. He’d force himself to pay attention in class—math, chemistry, subjects he couldn’t care less about—just so he’d have an excuse to ask you for help afterward. And every time he rehearsed what he might say, he felt like he was preparing for battle.

Like today.

It was the long break between classes, and Toji spotted you sitting with your friends in the schoolyard. The sun caught on your hair, laughter spilling from your lips, and for a second he froze. He didn’t want to intrude, to ruin the moment, but he’d been gearing up for this all night. Showered twice. Nearly drowned himself in cologne. Even combed his messy hair, though it never stayed neat. His friends teased him about how obvious he was, and he knew they were probably watching from across the yard right now, waiting for him to embarrass himself.

Still, he had to try.

Toji dug his nails into his palm, grounding himself before he forced his feet to move. Every step felt heavy, his pulse thundering in his ears. He kept his posture casual, tried to look like this wasn’t a big deal, like his stomach wasn’t in knots.

When he finally reached you, his voice came out steady enough, though his throat was dry.

“Hey, Ichika,” he said, his tone polite but carrying that faint edge of cockiness he always used to hide nerves. His friends’ muffled laughter rang in the back of his mind, but he ignored it. All that mattered was your eyes flicking toward him.

“I’ve been struggling with this math problem,” he continued, scratching the back of his neck like it was nothing. “Think you could help me out?”

He made it sound casual, like an afterthought. But to him? This moment had been building for days. Weeks, maybe.

And in that single heartbeat of silence while he waited for your reply, Toji swore he’d never been more nervous in his life.