The dorm room was flooded with watercolor sunlight, the kind that makes everything feel softer—like the world is trying to be gentle for once.

Yuki stood in front of her mirror, adjusting the hem of her mint green top. It fit just snug enough to be flattering, but loose enough to feel like a cloud on her skin. Her soft brown skirt swayed just above her knees, the fabric catching the morning breeze that slipped in through the cracked window. She reached for her mint pearl headband and gently slid it into her hair, pushing her bangs back with practiced ease. The mirror reflected something that glowed—not just her outfit, but her whole fucking presence.

She gave herself a little nod, a tiny smile curling the corners of her lips.

“You’ve got this,” she whispered.

With her canvas bag slung over her shoulder, she slipped on her soft brown sneakers and headed out, humming under her breath—a melodic, floaty tune that made the morning air feel like it was laced with magic.

⋯

Outside, campus was slowly coming alive. Trees whispered in a breeze that smelled faintly like spring rain. A few cherry blossoms had dared to bloom early, and their petals danced lazily through the air.

“Morning, Yuki!”

She turned, eyes lighting up. “Good morning!”

She waved at every person who greeted her, even the shy ones who barely met her gaze. Her smile had a way of melting tension—it was like warmth made visible. Even the grumpiest-looking girl with headphones on cracked a grin when Yuki passed.

She ducked into a boba café on the corner, the smell of espresso and fresh mochi wafting around her like a hug. Minutes later, she emerged holding a massive French vanilla affogato boba. The cup was too cute for its own good, covered in pastel cloud doodles and dripping in caramel drizzle. She took a sip, and let out a soft, delighted “Mmm.”

A flash of movement caught her eye. A fluffy white Samoyed tugged its leash, dragging its owner toward her.

“Oh my god,” Yuki breathed, crouching down as the dog flopped against her legs, all tail-wags and tongue.

“You’re just a giant walking marshmallow, aren’t you?” she cooed, laughing as she scratched behind its ears. The dog licked her thigh shamelessly. “Okay, okay, I get it—you’re in love with me.”

The owner chuckled, thanked her, and tugged the happy fluffball away. Yuki stood, brushing her skirt down and taking another sip of her drink, her cheeks flushed pink from laughter.

Across the campus green, Kai was lacing up his cleats. He heard the giggle before he saw her—the same melodic, airy sound that always seemed to float through the air like it belonged there.

He looked up.

There she was, walking by the edge of the soccer field like she didn’t even know she was being watched. Her skirt swayed gently. Her boba cup swung lazily in her hand. She waved without hesitation.

“Good luck at practice!” she called out, voice like sunlight.

“Thanks, Yuki!” Daiki shouted back with a grin, waving enthusiastically.

Kai just watched. His fingers stilled on his laces.

“You gonna wave or just sit there like a stalker?” Ryo muttered beside him, elbowing him.

Kai ignored him.

“I swear to God,” Ryo added, “if you start simping, I’m recording that shit.”

“Let the guy breathe,” Daiki said, smirking. “He’s clearly stunned by the fairy princess.”

Kai still didn’t say anything, but his eyes lingered as she rounded the corner, the soft hum of her voice still echoing in his ears.

Goddamn it.

⋯

Later that afternoon, the library was quiet—the kind of silence that wraps around you like a blanket and dares you to speak.

Yuki sat at a table near the back, surrounded by a fortress of textbooks and pastel notebooks. Her notes were so neat they looked fake: soft cursive in lavender ink, color-coded tabs, tiny hand-drawn stars in the margins. One book lay open on dermatological healing; another on neurobiology.

She sipped the last of her boba and twirled her pen between her fingers, leaning in to underline a passage. She smiled faintly as she wrote a little heart next to a quote: “Skin heals when it’s nurtured. So do people.”

Across the aisle, Kai was holding a soccer manual—but he wasn’t reading a fucking word of it. His eyes kept flicking toward her, like he couldn’t help it. She looked... peaceful. Not fake-nice or smile-for-the-camera sweet. It was like she had sunlight in her veins and didn’t even know it.

What the hell is her deal?

“You gonna actually read that,” Daiki whispered from behind a shelf, “or are you just gonna make love to it with your eyes?”

Kai flinched and shoved the book back on the shelf, muttering, “Fuck off.”

Daiki snorted. “Right. Classic brooding response.”

Kai stalked away, disappearing down the next row.

⋯

By late afternoon, Yuki packed up her things. Her hand brushed over her notebook one last time, as if sealing in the thoughts she’d poured into it. She tucked everything into her bag—except her pen, which she accidentally left behind on the desk.

As she walked out, the light caught her face, making her glow like she was lit from the inside. She didn't notice Kai lingering in the aisle across the room.

A few minutes later, he drifted over to her table, as if pulled by a thread he didn’t even know existed. Her pen lay there—a slim, pink thing with a dangling sakura charm.

He glanced down at the open notebook and read her writing again.

Skin heals when it’s nurtured. So do people.

Kai exhaled slowly, fingers brushing the edge of the page. He didn’t know what the fuck to make of her. But she made him feel something—and that was rare. Dangerous. Uncomfortable.

And kind of... addictive.

He set the pen back down gently, like it was something fragile, and walked away without a word.

But that line—those words—they stayed.