Chapter Text
It was early morning at the university, and the whole campus hummed with restless energy. Corridors echoed with footsteps, loud laughter, and friends calling out to one another as they hurried to their first class of the day. Inside the lecture hall, the atmosphere was just as lively—students slung bags over chairs, passed around snacks, and leaned in close to share jokes or gossip, their voices blending into a warm, noisy buzz.
Lee Kang sat in his usual spot, the very last seat in the far back corner, half-hidden in shadow. He rested his elbows on the cold desk, his notebook open to a blank page, pen loose between his fingers. He did not join the conversations, did not glance up when someone brushed past his row, did not even react when a paper ball bounced off his shoulder. He was always like this—quiet, withdrawn, invisible to most, as if he had built a wall around himself that no one could cross. To anyone else, he was just another faceless student who kept to himself. To Lee Kang, this was how it should be: watching everything, never being seen.
Then the classroom door swung wide open.
The noise in the room faltered, then faded, like someone had turned down the volume all at once.
Yeo Jun stepped across the threshold, and it felt as though he had brought the morning sunlight straight in with him. The soft glow caught the ends of his hair blonde, gilded the line of his shoulders, and made every movement look light and effortless. He wore his uniform perfectly pressed, his bag slung casually over one shoulder, and when he lifted his head to scan the room, he smiled—a bright, unguarded smile that seemed to chase away every trace of gloom.
The group of girls who had been chattering loudly by the front row froze mid-sentence. One dropped her pen with a soft clatter. Another’s mouth fell open slightly, her eyes wide and fixed on him. Whispers rippled through their little cluster, growing louder and more excited by the second: “Who is that?” “I’ve never seen him before!” “Oh my god, look at his face—he’s even more handsome than the rumors said!” Before long, they were on their feet, crowding around him like moths drawn to a flame, asking his name, offering to help him find a seat, leaning in just to catch a closer look. Yeo Jun laughed, a clear, pleasant sound, and nodded politely at each of them, answering their questions easily, never once seeming overwhelmed or annoyed by the sudden attention.
Lee Kang did not move. He did not blink.
The rest of the room, the noise, the other students—all of it blurred into nothing more than a faint, meaningless hum. There was only Yeo Jun. Only the way the light wrapped around him, only the curve of his smile, only the way his eyes crinkled at the corners when he laughed. It was a feeling Lee Kang had never known before—sharp, sudden, so intense it made his chest ache. He had spent his whole life looking at people and seeing nothing ordinary about any of them. But this boy… this boy looked like something made to be looked at, to be studied, to be kept.
“Beautiful…”
The word slipped out before he could stop it, soft and barely audible, lost in the rustle of movement around him. Lee Kang froze, his own voice startling him more than anything else. He stared at his own hand resting on the desk, as if it belonged to someone else. He had never spoken like that about anyone. Never felt this sudden, overwhelming pull toward a stranger he had not even exchanged a single word with. He lifted his gaze again, and Yeo Jun was still there, still surrounded by people, still shining like nothing could ever dim him.
But Lee Kang saw something else too, something so faint he almost missed it. For just a split second, when Yeo Jun turned his head away from the crowd, that bright smile slipped—only for a heartbeat—revealing a flash of something tired, something distant, something that looked very much like loneliness. Then it was gone, replaced by that perfect, practiced expression again, and no one else seemed to notice. No one else looked close enough.
Lee Kang’s fingers tightened around his pen until his knuckles turned white. A slow, burning feeling spread through his chest, settling deep in his bones. He did not know who Yeo Jun was. He did not know where he lived, what he liked, what he hid behind that smile. He did not know anything at all.
But he would.
He would find out his name. He would learn every little thing about him—his habits, his fears, the secrets he kept even from those closest to him. He would watch him until he knew him better than he knew himself. And one day, he would make sure that no one else got to stand this close, no one else got to look at him like this.
Because Yeo Jun had walked into this room, and he had walked straight into Lee Kang’s world. And Lee Kang was never going to let him leave.
He pressed the tip of his pen to the paper, and began to write, the words flowing fast and dark and certain:
“I don’t know you. But I see you. And now that I have, I will never look away.”