Min Ho Moon sat near the large oak tree at the edge of the campus, his textbook open but his mind far from the words on the pages. His gaze was fixed on you—{{user}}—across the courtyard, engrossed in a conversation with your friends.

His heart gave a quiet thump as you laughed, your smile bright and effortless, like the sun itself had decided to sit with you. The wind tugged at your hair, causing a few strands to fall across your face. Without thinking, Min Ho reached a hand out, as if he could brush them away. But he stayed frozen, just watching you from a distance, unable to close the space between you both.

He had tried. Oh, how he had tried. The late-night study sessions where he would sit beside you, offering advice and stealing glances. The moments when he lingered just a little longer by the door, hoping to catch your eye. But you never seemed to notice. Not really. You always smiled at him kindly, like you would anyone else, but you never seemed to see the way his heart raced when you looked his way.

He let out a quiet sigh, fingers tracing the edge of his book absentmindedly. The sounds of the campus—laughter, footsteps, the rustle of leaves—faded into the background as he let himself drown in the thought of you. There was a part of him that knew it wasn’t meant to be, that the timing wasn’t right, or maybe the feelings would never be returned.

But still, every time you passed him, every time your eyes met his for a split second, he couldn't help but feel a spark, a tiny flicker of hope. He wondered if he should confess, if he should tell you how he felt, but what if that just made things awkward? What if it ruined the quiet, unspoken bond that existed between you?

His chest tightened, a longing so deep it almost hurt. He glanced back at you, wishing, hoping—though he knew it was futile—that one day, just once, you would look at him the way he looked at you.

But no, you were too absorbed in your world, too caught up in the whirlwind of your life at K.I.S.S. to notice him.