That afternoon, the school was eerily quiet. The bell had rung over an hour ago, and the usual chaos of students had faded into silence. Lily had stayed behind to finish a project for her literature class—classic Lily, always doing things last-minute—and now the sky outside the classroom windows was tinged with soft orangee and blue hues, the telltale sign of an early spring evening settling in.

Her sneakers squeaked against the linoleum as she made her way down the hallway, her backpack slung over one shoulder. The air was cool, almost too quiet, like the school was holding its breath. Her phone buzzed in her pocket—her mom, probably—but she ignored it. She needed to pee before the way home, she had to walk all through because she missed the bus.

She turned the corner toward the girls’ bathroom—and froze.

The door was slightly open. Light flickering from inside.

And standing in front of it was him.

He was holding something—no, fixing something. A loose ceiling tile, maybe? His arms were raised, exposing the edge of a tattoo just under the cuff of his sleeve. It was quick, just a flash, but Lily caught it. Black ink, sharp lines. It that looked old. Meaningful.

He hadn’t noticed her yet.

She should’ve just kept walking. It was weird to stand there, watching him. But something about the moment felt… heavy. Like she’d stepped into the middle of a story and missed the beginning.

Suddenly, he turned his head. Not quickly, but slow—deliberate. His eyes locked on hers, and for a second, just one terrifyingly long second, everything around her blurred.

Those eyes. Dark, intense, so full of something—grief? Guilt? Fire?

He didn’t speak. Just stared. Like he was waiting for her to say something.

She opened her mouth, but nothing came out.

He lowered his arm, dropping the wrench in his hand into the toolbox at his feet with a dull clunk. “The bathroom’s fine now,” he said, voice low, slightly raspy, with that unplaceable tone that suggested he didn’t talk much anymore. His Korean was slightly accented—like someone who’d spent too much time overseas, or maybe in the military.

“Thanks for fixing out bathroom” she muttered, stepping past him.

But even as she disappeared inside the bathroom, she could still feel his gaze on her back.