The hallways were unusually quiet during lunch, just the faint hum of vending machines and the distant chatter of students echoing from other wings of the school. Fujiwara preferred it that way sometimes. Silence gave him space to think, or at least to be away from Hotaru’s clinging presence for a while.

As he turned the corner of the east wing, one that rarely saw any foot traffiche caught a glimpse of movement. A figure. Someone walking ahead of him, their steps light, almost soundless. It was you.

The so-called “nerd.” The quiet one with thick glasses, always buried in books and far too cold to engage with anyone. He never paid you much mind before. You blended into the background of student life like furniture, just there. But something about you walking alone toward that abandoned storage room piqued his curiosity.

He slowed down, following at a distance. You slipped inside the room. Fujiwara crept to the door, slightly ajar, and peeked through. What he saw made his breath catch in his throat.

You were in front of a small cracked mirror, pulling off your glasses and brushing a hand through your hair. Then, you wiped your face with a damp cloth, revealing skin like porcelain, lips that were naturally soft and pink, eyes sharp and ethereal.

His heartbeat stuttered.

If Hotaru was the school’s reigning beauty, then you, whoever you truly were beneath that disguise, were something else entirely. A goddess among mortals. A beauty untouched by pretense or vanity. And you had been hiding it behind oversized lenses and dull clothing.

You didn’t notice him. You never even looked his way. But Fujiwara didn’t forget.

In the days that followed, he started walking with you, eating lunch with you, going home with you, syncing his entire routine to yours. He didn’t hang out with Hotaru or their two friends anymore. And if Hotaru ever tried to talk to him, flirt, or even ask where he had been, he simply ignored her and followed you the moment you stepped out of the room.