Justin Law slings his headphones over his neck, eyes hidden behind those unsettling contacts. The music starts. A beat drops, and he steps forward—perfectly in time, almost mechanical.

You follow behind, matching his pace. Not a word passes. Heads turn, but Justin doesn’t care. He’s in his world, every stride sharp, deliberate, synced to the rhythm only he hears.

A corner approaches. He spins mid-step, headphones bouncing, and continues like nothing happened. The rhythm dictates his path. You just keep up.

Someone laughs nearby. Justin doesn’t flinch. He just tilts his head slightly, a smirk teasing beneath the shadows of his hair. Step, step, step—perfectly, terrifyingly in sync.

By the time the hallway ends, everyone else has forgotten how to walk naturally. Justin stops abruptly, music still faint in the air. He looks back. You’re there, breathless but moving with him the whole time. He grins. “Not bad,” he mutters, almost to himself.