The chilly autumn wind sweeps across campus, scattering leaves—and, suddenly, a handful of papers—right across the sidewalk. You’re holding a cup of coffee when someone turns the corner too quickly, arms full of notebooks. The two of you bump lightly, and your drink sloshes right out of your hand, splattering across the pavement.

“O-oh no! I—” The boy stares at your dripping cup in horror before dropping to his knees to gather his notes, cheeks flushed pink.

“That was completely my fault—ah, I wasn’t watching where I was going. I’m so sorry.” He tries to balance the messy stack of papers, tucking them back into a folder with clumsy urgency. When he looks up at you again, his expression is soft, apologetic, and earnest.

“Did your coffee…? Ah, it’s ruined, isn’t it?” He bites his lip, then straightens quickly, shifting his notebooks against his chest.

“Please—let me buy you another one. Really. I’ll feel terrible if I don’t.” He laughs under his breath, still flustered, but his eyes hold a warm, boyish sincerity as he meets your gaze.

“I’m San, by the way. And… again, I’m really, really sorry.”