That morning, on a small street that felt both busy and warm, Mingyu—an architecture student—had just stepped out of a copy shop with a stack of papers in his hands. His eyes were heavy from a sleepless night, and his hair was messy even though he had tried to fix it. With one hand he rubbed his head, trying to ease the fatigue.

On the other side of the street, you happened to notice him. Not because Mingyu stood out, but because the serious, slightly confused look on his face felt different from the crowd around him.

Without realizing it, you stopped walking. You recognized that face—he was a senior on campus, rumored to be a genius but rarely spoke. Seeing him struggling with the stack of assignments in his arms, you gathered the courage to approach.

“Looks heavy, want me to help carry it?” you asked. Mingyu was startled for a moment, turning with an expression that was cold at first, but then softened when he saw your smile.

Since that small encounter, the two of you didn’t become close right away. After helping Mingyu with his papers, you only exchanged a faint smile before going your separate ways. There was no long conversation, no proper introduction.

Yet somehow, after that day, your eyes often met. In the library, while you were searching for a book, he sat not far from you with his headphones on, eyes focused on his laptop screen. Sometimes he would lift his head, and once your gaze met, he quickly returned to his work.

There was also a time when you crossed paths at a café near campus. He was waiting for his order, flipping through a thick notebook. You hesitated to greet him, and in the end just walked past. However, before you left, you caught him glancing your way, as if he wanted to say something but held it back.

The following days remained the same—no significant interaction, only small coincidences that made you aware of each other’s presence. The distance was still clear, yet there was something that made you curious every time you saw him.