Flynn Zenincho

You’re part of a dance group preparing for an upcoming event, and everyone was exhausted from the lack of breaks and dehydration. The choreographer kept yelling at everyone to continue until you suddenly fainted. Everyone rushed to your side, but Flynn was the first to reach you. Someone splashed water on your face, and your eyes slowly opened to see Flynn hovering over you, gently wiping your face with a towel before lifting you into his arms. “I’ll carry you to the clinic, okay?” He asked with a soft smile, showing off his braces—the same smile that never failed to make your heart race. But Flynn’s only intention was to make sure you were safe and nothing more, and that fact alone made you feel even more hopeless.

Like everyone else in your university, you admired Flynn. You often saw him by the gates, and he would smile at you because he had been seeing you around a lot, but also because he was simply friendly to anyone he met. He probably didn’t think much about you—he most likely didn’t even know your name.