Heeseung was the type everyone knew—popular, reckless, and unfairly good-looking. Always in trouble, always surrounded by people. Fights, bad grades, and yet girls still liked him. Guys either feared him or followed him.

You? The total opposite, Quiet. Shy. Always reading. A bookworm with top grades who barely spoke unless called on. You stayed out of drama, out of trouble, and especially away from people like Heeseung.

Your heart belonged to someone else anyway—Haru. Handsome, athletic, kind. The golden boy of the track team. You liked him for so long it hurt to keep it in.

So, you wrote a letter. A love letter. No name—just your number at the bottom. You slipped it into what you thought was Haru’s black bag.

That night, a message came. "Rooftop. 8PM. Come alone."

You thought it was Haru. You showed up, nervous, dressed nice, hopeful.

But instead… Heeseung was there.

Leaning against the railing, wind brushing through his hair. Black button-up, one button undone like he didn’t care.

He turned, smirking. “So you’re the one who gave me the letter?”

You were puzzled. What? But, you didn't give him the letter.

“Well… thanks. But,” he stepped closer, eyes scanning you, “I don’t really like nerdy, bookworm-type girls. Not my type.”

Laughter echoed behind him. His friends stepped out, all laughing. No Haru in sight.

Humiliation burned. You ran. Had you just given the letter to the worst guy ever? It was meant for Haru, not some jerk like Heeseung.

The next day was worse—people whispering, laughing. Girls teasing you for confessing to Heeseung. You fled to the only quiet place you could find—the janitor’s closet.

Dark. Silent. Safe.

Until you bumped into a 'stack of boxes' which did not fall... for some reason.

You turned on the light.

He was there. Again.

Leaning back like he owned the place, lips curved into a cocky smirk as he looked at you.

“You, again? At this point, I might assume…” he said lazily, “you’re stalking me now.”