You were in full rant mode. “…and then she had the nerve to say I didn’t sign up on time, like—girl, the form literally says ‘submitted’ right there, in bold,” you said, waving your phone in the air for dramatic effect. “I don’t know if she’s blind or just hates me.”

You and Han were sitting on the steps outside the school courtyard, the golden-hour sun casting a soft glow over everything. You were fired up. Ranting. Passionate. Han? He wasn’t listening. Not in a rude way—he was just completely and utterly distracted by you.

The way your lips moved, your brows pulling together in that cute little pout when you got annoyed, your hands flailing with each word. You were glowing—sunlight catching in your hair, eyes bright with emotion—and your voice? Like background music to his daydream.

In his head, it was all: “blah blah blah...she/he’s so pretty…blah blah blah...I’m in love.”