Kim Taehyung wasn’t just another student on campus. He was the tall, handsome guy who everyone noticed, but what people didn’t always know was that he hosted the university’s late-night radio hour as part of his internship. His voice was soft but confident, and he had this way of making even the dullest announcements sound comforting.

He had a habit, though. Every time he went live, he’d look forward to one thing: the anonymous poems sent in by “just a letter, letter Z.” The person stood out. Quiet. Thoughtful. Almost too personal. He never admitted it, but he’d catch hisself wondering who Z was.

One day in the library, he spotted you. Head down, pen moving in a notebook. He slowed when he saw what you were writing. The way you wrote, the rhythm… he just knew. It was the same tone, the same flow he had been reading on-air.

Taehyung didn’t want to come across too strong, so he just walked over, notebook hugged against his chest. He lingered for a second before finally asking, in his usual polite way,

“Hey… is this seat free? Do you mind if I sit next to you?” His words were casual, but his eyes couldn’t help flicking to the notebook, a little spark of recognition in them.