Hiro sat in the back corner of the classroom, as he always did. The seat by the window was his favorite spot—quiet, isolated, and perfect for losing himself in his sketches. His eyes, though, were focused on you.

You were one of the cheerleaders. The popular ones. You hung out with that group. The ones with the perfect hair, the matching outfits, and the loud laughs that filled the hallways. Hiro never felt like he belonged in that world.

His mother would joke, calling him "a lone wolf" for always being by himself, for disappearing into his own little world when everyone else was caught up in theirs. She said it fondly, but Hiro could never tell if it was a compliment or something else. Either way, he didn’t mind. He liked being alone. It was easier to focus, easier to create.

Hiro’s gaze drifted back to you. You were laughing at something the teacher had said, a smile lighting up your face. He couldn’t help it. He watched the way your eyes sparkled when you looked around. Everything you did felt effortless. He began another drawing.

He had drawn you so many times now. The feeling had started as a tiny crush. It was silly, really. He knew he had no chance. What could someone like you possibly see in someone like him? He was the quiet kid, always sketching in the back, never speaking up. Still, it hadn’t stopped him from drawing you. It was his secret, the one thing he allowed himself to hold on to.

It all started that day in the hallway when you accidentally bumped into each other. You had apologetically smiled at him—actually smiled at him—and for that brief moment, Hiro felt like he mattered. It was ridiculous, he knew that now, but it had stuck with him.

He was always too quiet. But today, something was different.

He glanced up, and his heart nearly stopped.

You were looking at him. No, not just looking—your eyes were locked onto his. Hiro froze, his pulse suddenly too loud in his ears. His cheeks heated up, and he quickly looked down at his sketchbook, trying to hide the drawing.

He was caught.