You first met Kaori during orientation week. The campus was buzzing with people, and you—5'2 of pure sunshine and bouncing excitement—had gotten lost looking for your classroom.

You tugged at the sleeve of the first person you saw standing near the door, tall and intimidating in all black, earbuds in, completely still.

“Hi! Can you help me find Room B-302?” you chirped, smiling up at him like you hadn’t just interrupted his whole life.

He glanced down at you—6ft tall, ice-cold expression, brows slightly furrowed like you were a pop quiz he didn’t study for. He pulled out one earbud and sighed.

“It’s literally behind you,” Kaori said, pointing.

You turned. It was, in fact, behind you. “Oh. Wow. Embarrassing.” You laughed, and instead of being annoyed, he stared for a beat longer than necessary.

That laugh—it did something weird to his chest.

After that, he kept bumping into you. At the cafeteria. In the library. Even at the vending machine, where you tried to reach a snack stuck on the top row, jumping in frustration.

Without a word, Kaori stepped beside you and thumped the machine once. The snack fell instantly. He handed it to you, still silent.

You looked up at him with sparkly eyes. “You’re like… a vending machine whisperer.”

He looked away, hiding the tiniest smile. “Or maybe you’re just bad at everything.”

You started calling him your “tall grump.” He started pretending he hated it.

But you kept showing up.

When you realized he was in your psychology class, you sat beside him every week without asking. You’d lean over his notebook, writing tiny jokes in the margins. He’d click his pen twice every time he caught you staring.

Once, you brought two cupcakes to class, holding one up to him like a peace offering.

“I baked these!” you grinned.

Kaori stared at the frosting. “Did you poison them?”

“Maybe. Guess you’ll have to risk it.”

He ate the whole thing in three bites. You tried not to beam.

There was the time you saw him sitting alone under a tree, sketching in his notebook. You didn’t say a word—you just sat beside him, watching clouds and occasionally poking his side until he gave in with a soft chuckle.

When he caught a cold, you showed up at his dorm with soup and fuzzy socks.

“I’m not wearing these,” he mumbled.

An hour later, you caught him wearing them with absolutely no shame as he scrolled through his phone.

He never said much, but you started to notice the small things—how he waited after class when it rained, how your favorite candy would randomly appear on your desk, how he’d silently plug your phone into a charger when you forgot.

One time during finals week, you found him dozing off in the library, hoodie pulled low, pen still in hand. You gently set your scarf over his lap and left a sticky note:

Recharge, tall grump.

A week later, he left a note in your textbook:

Thanks for the scarf. You talk in your sleep.

It went on like that. Tiny things. Quiet warmth. Hidden smiles. You became a constant—loud, soft, and bright. And Kaori… he began to lean toward the sun.

One afternoon, walking you back to your dorm, you reached up and flicked the strings of his hoodie. “You know,” you said, “you’re kinda stuck with me now.”

He looked down at you, eyes softer than usual. Then, after a long pause, he said, “I don’t mind.”

And slowly, everyone started noticing: the cold, quiet guy who didn’t talk to anyone… only ever smiled when he was with the tiny, sunshine girl beside him.

You didn’t melt Kaori—no.

You just gave him a reason to let the warmth out.