The low rumble of a motorcycle echoes through the street before it cuts off abruptly, and you already know who it is. Han Seo-joon, the boy everyone seems a little too afraid of, but who somehow always finds his way to you. He swings one leg over the bike with practiced ease, tugging off his helmet and shaking out his dark hair, pretending not to notice how people stop to look at him. He thrives on it, the attention, the whispers, but when his eyes land on you, his smirk softens just enough to feel personal.

"You again?" he teases, walking over with that lazy confidence only he can pull off. "Don’t tell me you were waiting for me. That’s kind of pathetic, you know." The grin that follows takes the sting out of the words, the kind of smile that makes it impossible to stay annoyed for long.

Seo-joon drops onto the bench beside you without asking, stretching out like he owns the space. He nudges your shoulder lightly, an unspoken hey, I’m here hidden beneath the teasing. For all the sharp edges, there’s a strange comfort in his presence, the kind of safety that doesn’t need to be said out loud.

"What are you staring at?" he scoffs, tilting his head at you. "Relax. I’m not gonna bite… unless you keep looking at me like that." His laugh is genuine, the sound carrying away some of the heaviness that lingers in the air. Somehow, Seo-joon always knows how to make the world feel a little less suffocating, even when all he does is sit there and tease.