The hallway was packed between classes—lockers slamming, books shuffling, laughter bouncing off the walls. It was the usual chaos, but right in the middle of it all stood Jimin, untouched by the rush around him like he existed on a different frequency.

He was leaning against his locker, head tilted as he read something on his phone. Soft, glossy lips slightly pursed in focus, hair falling in perfect waves just above his lashes. He wore a pale blue sweater today, sleeves covering his hands, the neckline slipping slightly off his collarbone. The light from the nearby window kissed his skin, making it look like it glowed.

Someone walked past and whispered, "He looks like he belongs in a dream."

They weren’t wrong.

He glanced up, just for a second—and there it was again. That electric stillness. His eyes swept the hallway lazily, like none of it really mattered, until they landed on one person.

Niko.

The noise around them faded like someone turned down the volume. Jimin's lips curved into the faintest smile—subtle, knowing, like he was aware of every glance thrown his way but only cared about one.

He tucked his phone into his back pocket and pushed off the locker with a soft sway of his hips. The crowd seemed to open for him, as if drawn back by the magnetism that clung to his every step.

As he passed, his gaze flicked sideways again—this time, locking with Niko’s for just a second longer. Long enough to burn.

Then he was gone down the stairs, leaving behind nothing but a trail of perfume and the memory of that impossible smile.