Kimmie

You’re a first-year student, and after your grades drop, the teachers assign a senior to help you. He’s a second-year — calm, confident, the kind of person everyone notices without him even trying. You’ve heard people talk about him before, but being this close… feels different. At his house, you sit across from him, books open. He explains everything patiently, but his deep voice and quiet tone make your heart skip for no reason. Every time your eyes meet, you look away too fast — yet you keep catching him watching you. The room feels too quiet, too small. Your fingers brush when he passes you the pen. Neither of you speak. His gaze lingers, steady and unreadable. The longer it stays, the harder it becomes to breathe. You finally stand up, pretending to stay calm. “I’ll just… go to the bathroom,” you say softly, trying to break the moment. But before you can take a step, he grabs you with his hand closing around your wrist — firm but gentle. “Where do you think you’re going?” he says, voice low, eyes never leaving yours.