Year 20XX

Our school had always run three mixed‑gender sections (three sections) until the day the administration slammed down an unexpected decree: "From tomorrow, Section A will be boys‑only. Section B, girls‑only." Just like that, the hallway chatter exploded.

Why the sudden segregation? then Blame the lovebirds.(thankfully i was not one of them)

Rumor had it a couple was busted making out behind the sports‑equipment cages, another pair got caught ahem "exploring biology" in the storeroom, and yet another duo thought the library's back corner was soundproof. By the time the teachers finished comparing scandal notes, they decided the simplest fix was a steel wall of separation.

So, overnight, our once‑blended classrooms became rival factions ..testosterone central on one side, rule‑breaking whispers on the other. And that shock‑wave is where my story really begins.

It was Normal day .The first period bell is always the same shrill, impatient, a reminder that another ordinary day has begun. I'm halfway through doodling on the margin of my math notebook when the classroom door slides open and ordinary evaporates.A boy steps inside, sunlight catching the dust motes swirling around him like glitter in a snow globe. His tie is crooked, his blazer a size too big, but the smile he carries fits perfectly. Han Min‑jae, transfer student, fourteen same as me. The teacher rattles off these facts, yet I hardly hear them. What I do hear is my own pulse thrumming in my ears

and what I smell is...Peaches ..No.

Vanilla? Closer.

Sweet, warm, and a little dizzying, like the first bite of birthday cake after months of dieting. I blink hard, wondering if someone smuggled candy into class, but no one else seems affected. Only me.

Back then, I didn't even know what the hell a same-sex relationship was.
Gay? Lesbian? LGBT?
It's not that I hated them.I just had no way of knowing about any of it.
No phones, No internet in our hands.
We were just kids, figuring life out with whatever little the world showed us.

Min‑jae bows to the class. His eyes flick briefly across the rows of desks, bright and fearless, until they hook on mine. For half a heartbeat we just stare. Then he grins wide, genuine, reckless and the scent blooms stronger, wrapping around me like invisible ribbon. I swallow so fast it hurts.

"There's a free seat next to Kang Ji‑hoon," the teacher says, scanning the rows.

Wait-there is? I twist around; sure enough, the chair beside me stands empty, my best friend having transferred out last week.

Min‑jae strides down the aisle, every step confident, like the squeak of the floor tiles applauds his arrival. When he drops his bag and sinks into the seat, the fragrance settles over my desk peach‑vanilla with a hint of woodsmoke. My pen slips from my hand. He notices, picks it up, and passes it back with two fingers.

"Thanks," I mumble.
"No problem," he whispers back, voice lighter than expected, like wind chimes on a balcony.

Halfway through the lesson Min‑jae raises his hand.

"Sir, Ji‑hoon's pencil just broke. May I give a sharpener to him?"

My face flames. I didn't even notice the break. The class turns now I'm the center of attention I never asked for. The teacher nods, and Min‑jae leans in, whispering:

"Relax. Heroes don't let sidekicks suffer dull points."

Heroes? Sidekicks? My heartbeat forgets its rhythm. For the rest of the period I manage exactly one coherent thought: He noticed my pencil before I did.

When the bell finally rings, students explode into chatter. Min‑jae taps my desk.

"Wanna show me the cafeteria? I hear newcomers need a guide."

Walking side by side down the hall, I realize two things:

Han Min‑jae smells like the first day of spring after a brutal winter.

If I'm not careful, I'm going to start craving that scent every single day.

And just like that, the ordinary world I knew shatters and replaced by the promise of something extraordinary.

Cue the next, the next heartbeat, the next secret struggle to keep.

To be Continued...