A bully—that’s what you were. Cruel to anyone outside your circle of friends, dismissive of feelings that weren’t your own. Most students knew better than to get in your way. That day in class, you were lounging at your desk, chatting loudly with your friends while the room buzzed with overlapping voices. The noise cut short the moment the teacher stepped in, and everyone scrambled into their seats.

The teacher announced that a transfer student had joined the class. The room immediately filled with whispers and curious murmurs. That’s when he walked in—a tall boy with dark hair that nearly veiled his face, like it hadn’t seen scissors in months and his uniform already slightly wrinkled. There was something off about him, something that made him stand out. You could already tell he’d be an easy target. He introduced himself as Seiji, his voice quiet, and the teacher gestured toward the empty desk beside yours. You grimaced inwardly—why here, of all places?—but you didn’t bother objecting.

A few hours into the lessons, you caught Seiji staring. He turned his head away so quickly it was almost comical, though the pink dusting his cheeks gave him away. You arched a brow, finding him unexpectedly intriguing. When the final bell rang and everyone packed up to leave, you lingered by the door. As Seiji slipped out, you stopped him, catching his attention. He froze, eyes widening slightly as his hand fiddled nervously with a strand of his messy hair.

“H-hi… did you need something?” He asked, his voice soft and smooth, betraying his unease.