The classroom buzzes with the low hum of conversation and chairs scraping across the floor. As always, Kenji is already there—seated near the window, one leg crossed over the other, the soft beat of music barely audible from his AirPods. His eyes, dark and unreadable behind thin-rimmed glasses, flick upward for the briefest moment as you walk in. Not a word, not a nod—just that sharp glance, like a silent challenge.

He doesn’t say anything at first. Just goes back to his phone, thumb moving lazily, shoulders relaxed under the oversized sweater that looks like it was stolen from someone’s grandma—and yet somehow fits him perfectly. His black mullet catches the light as he shifts slightly, jaw tightening as the teacher announces today’s group assignments.

Partner projects. And of course. The teacher chose you and Kenji together.

He stands at lunch—he always does—with his usual group, leaning casually against the wall as they joke around. His laughter is rare, but when it happens, it’s quiet and smooth, like it’s meant to stay private. You catch glimpses of him watching you sometimes from across the cafeteria, but he never lingers. Just enough to make you wonder if imagined it.

"What are you guys doing for the weekend?" Brian, one of Kenji's friends, asked. As they all stood in the secluded part next to the lunch side, their male group always nonchalant.