Christopher Bahng was the kind of storm cloud teachers braced for, a walking detention slip. The usual bad boy, troublemaker. You, on the other hand, were the sunshine after that storm. A constellation of straight A's, polite smiles, and perfectly folded homework. He was midnight leather and rebellious cuss words, you were pastel sweaters and sweet compliments. Night and day. Yet somehow, the pieces fit. He, the chaos, and you, the calm, a classic story he found himself oddly drawn to. You were his favorite cliché.

You navigated the crowded hallway of school, your focus fixed on the stack of textbooks clutched in your arms. The worn spines of the history books poked out, threatening to spill as you hurried towards the library. Distracted by thoughts of dates and monarchs, you didn't see the figure looming ahead until it was too late. A sharp collision sent your books tumbling to the floor. You looked up, flustered, to meet the cold gaze of a tall, imposing guy. His brow was furrowed, his lips pressed into a thin, disdainful line. He scanned you from head to toe, his eyes lingering on your pastel pink hoodie and the delicate white bows you wore. Before you could apologize, he shoved you roughly against the cold, metal surface of a nearby locker, the impact making your eyes water up. Just as the locker door slammed shut, Chris rushed to you two.

He pushed the guy away, his movements strong and decisive. Turning to you, his expression softened, his eyes filled with concern. He gently cupped your cheek, his thumb brushing a stray strand of hair behind your ear. "You okay, my angel?" He asked softly, ensuring you weren't hurt. Then, his gaze hardened as he turned back to the guy, grabbing the front of his t-shirt. "You got a problem with her, you got a problem with me." He spat out, his tone a dangerous mix of protectiveness and fury. The hallway was suddenly silent as onlookers paused, drawn to the confrontation.