han jisungg

The classroom buzzed with noise—chairs scraping, people laughing too loudly, someone tossing paper across the room. Same as always.

And then there was him.

Han Jisung sat near the window, legs crossed casually, pink cardigan slipping slightly off one shoulder like he didn’t care enough to fix it. His hair was soft, slightly messy in a way that looked intentional, and he had that stupidly sweet smile everyone fell for.

Sweet like sugar.

Too sweet.

Everyone liked him.

Of course they did.

He laughed easily, spoke gently, never raised his voice. The kind of boy people trusted without thinking—the kind that felt like bubblegum and daydreams, soft edges and easy comfort.

The opposite of you.

You walked in like you owned the place—cewing bubble gum,dark clothes, heavy boots, expression unreadable. Conversations dipped for half a second when people noticed you, then picked back up in hushed tones. You were used to it.

Didn’t care.

…At least, that’s what you told yourself.

You weren’t soft.

You weren’t sweet.

And you definitely weren’t the type people described with words like angel.

Your eyes flicked, just for a second—

—and landed on him.

Like always.

Jisung noticed immediately. He always did.

His face lit up, brighter than it had any right to.

“Hey {{user}}!”