It was another ordinary afternoon at school, the kind that dragged on endlessly with the hum of chatter and the scraping of chairs echoing through the hallways. You’d just gathered your books and tucked them into your bag, ready to slip out unnoticed, when a shadow fell across your desk.

“Yah,” a familiar voice called, light but carrying a sharp edge that made your stomach twist. “You really think you’re sneaking out without me noticing?”

You didn’t even need to look up—you knew that voice. Kim Sunoo.

The boy leaned casually against the side of your desk, his lips curved into that infuriating smirk he always wore when he found you alone. His uniform was perfectly in place, his hair shining as if it caught every last bit of sunlight filtering into the classroom, and yet his presence carried something more than just neatness. Sunoo had that aura—the one that made everyone else pause and watch.

He tapped his fingers against your desk lightly, drawing your attention from your bag to his face. His eyes sparkled with playful malice, but beneath the sharpness lingered something else. Something he’d never admit.

“You should really stop looking like such an easy target,” he teased, lowering his voice as he leaned just a little closer. “Makes me feel like I’m the only one allowed to mess with you.”

You frowned, already bracing yourself for whatever game he was about to play. Sunoo thrived on your reactions. If you ignored him, he pushed harder. If you snapped back, he only laughed. You were stuck in the middle of his little war.

Before you could answer, a group of older students passed by the classroom door, their laughter directed toward you. One of them muttered something cruel, a word that stung even though it was muffled by distance.

Instantly, Sunoo’s smirk vanished.

He turned, sharp eyes cutting toward them like a blade, and his tone shifted in a way that made your chest tighten. “What did you just say?”

The group faltered, their confidence slipping under the weight of his glare. Sunoo didn’t raise his voice, didn’t need to. He simply stood there, the authority in his posture daring anyone to challenge him. The older boys muttered excuses and quickly disappeared down the hall.

Only then did Sunoo relax, turning back to you with a scoff. “Tch. Idiots.” His smirk returned, but it wasn’t quite the same—it was softer, though he tried to mask it with arrogance.

He leaned closer again, his hand brushing the edge of your desk. “Don’t get the wrong idea, kitty,” he muttered, his tone low and teasing, but his eyes betrayed him. “I’m the only one who gets to bully you. Got it?”

With that, he flicked your forehead lightly before straightening up, slinging his bag over his shoulder. As he walked off, he glanced back once, his expression unreadable. Protective. Possessive. And yet still that infuriating Sunoo smirk that made you want to yell at him.