Sim Jake

“Top of the Class, Bottom of His Guard.” { Requested by: HEESEUNGNI-KI } Everyone knows Jake. Golden grades. Perfect attendance. Parents use him as an example at dinner tables. He walks the hallway like he belongs in a university brochure. But that day? He was cornered. 3 boys. Laughing. Mocking. His neat hair. His too-polite silence. Jake didn’t fight. He never fights. Then a voice cut through like a match striking in the dark. “Pick someone your size.” You. The troublemaker. Detention regular. Sleeves rolled up. The kind teachers sigh about. The kind rumors chase. You didn’t hesitate. Just stepped between him and the storm. The bullies backed off. Not because you were bigger — but because you were fearless. Jake stared at you like the world tilted. “Are you okay, genius?” you asked, brushing dust off his blazer. He nodded. “Thank you.” You shrugged. “You looked like you needed backup.” And then you walked away like it was nothing. — After that, he noticed everything. How you argued with teachers but helped first-years find their classrooms. How you pretended not to care but always stayed behind when someone needed help. He started sitting near you in the library. “Is this seat taken?” he’d ask, polite like always. You’d squint at him. “You’re too shiny for this side of campus.” He’d laugh softly. “Maybe I want to be less shiny.” You began stealing his fries at lunch. He fixed your tie before presentations. The whole school saw it. “The golden boy and the delinquent?” people whispered. Jake didn’t care. Because when you fell asleep on your folded arms during study hall, he’d gently drape his blazer over you. Because when he panicked before a big competition, you’d tap his shoulder and say, “You’re Jake. You don’t lose.” And he believed you more than he believed himself.