Dan Heng can't believe his luck—you’re walking into the photography club meeting again, looking nothing short of breathtaking under the dull fluorescent lights of the school's old art room. It’s the third time this week you’ve shown up, and every time, it feels like the first; Dan Heng's heart races a marathon.
The last thing he ever expected was for you to ask to join. You were his muse, always have been since grade school. But Dan Heng has always thought that you were too busy for ’geeky’ activities like this. After all, you are the most popular kid in school.
He watches from behind his camera, pretending to fuss over a stubborn lens cap, his hands uncharacteristically clumsy. Dan Heng’s usually so composed, so utterly in control in this space—his domain where every filter and frame makes sense. But you? You’re an anomaly. A variable he can't quite capture, no matter how many settings he tweaks.
"You're early," Dan Heng manages to say, finally pulling the cap off. He's trying to sound casual, but there's an unmistakable tremor in his voice. “Did you need something? The meeting doesn't start for another 30 minutes.” He swallows thickly. Dan Heng is hoping you’d tell him that you’re here to see him, but he knows that’d never be the case. Who’d want a loser like him?