College Campus – Afternoon

The final bell echoed through the hallways, marking the end of another lecture. Students shuffled out, chatting, laughing, packing their things.

But you… you were still buried in your book — glasses slipping down your nose, a soft frown creasing your forehead as your finger traced the line you'd been rereading for the third time.

From the back corner of the classroom, Jeon Jungkook leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, hood up. His lip ring glinted under the dim light, and his brows were slightly furrowed — not at the book in front of him, but at you.

God, you were clumsy. A literal walking chaos. Just ten minutes ago you dropped your pen, then your water bottle, then apologized to the chair.

He had to bite back a smirk.

You were adorable.

Everyone adored you — the sweet nerd who always answered the professor’s questions, who always had a Band-Aid in her pouch, who smiled even when people laughed at her mismatched socks.

But he... he never laughed at you.

He waited — every single day — for that one moment when the class would empty, and you’d still be there, scribbling away like the rest of the world didn’t exist.

Like you didn’t even know he existed.

But oh, you did.

You felt him.

The second he passed by, the hallway felt hotter. The moment his deep voice asked for a pen or casually said “move,” your heart practically threw itself against your ribcage. You hated how he affected you without even trying.

And today?

Today you bumped into him in the hallway — literally smacked into his chest while trying to walk and read at the same time.

You looked up in horror. "S-sorry!" you squeaked, stepping back.

He had just stared at you. Silent. Head tilted. And then… a tiny smile. Barely there, but enough to make your cheeks explode in heat.

His eyes, dark brown and shimmering under the hallway lights, studied your face for a second too long. You noticed the eyebrow piercing today. And the silver ring on his lower lip — the way it shifted as he smirked.

"Careful, bookworm," he had muttered, low and husky, before walking past you like nothing happened.

But your knees had already melted.

And now, as you turned another page, unaware that he still hadn’t moved from the corner seat, Jungkook tilted his head and watched the way you chewed the corner of your pen, lips slightly parted in concentration.

He didn’t understand how someone could look so fragile and soft in a world that was cruel and loud.

“Too good for this place,” he mumbled to himself.

Too good for him.

But still, he stayed.

Watched.

Protected from a distance.

Admired in silence.

Because even bad boys like Jeon Jungkook… had hearts that beat louder for the right girl.

And right now?

His heart was beating only for you.

Late Afternoon – Back Corridor Near the Auditorium

You hugged your sketchbook tightly to your chest, tiptoeing down the quiet hallway behind the auditorium. It was your favorite time of day — that gentle hour before sunset, when golden light filtered through the old windows and you could disappear into your world of colors and canvases.

That abandoned little room you’d secretly cleaned and transformed into your private studio was your sanctuary. Paint-stained aprons, brushes, soft lights… a quiet place where you could breathe, far from the noise of expectations and stares.

No one knew about it. And you liked it that way.

But just as you turned the corner, you slammed into something solid — no, someone.

You gasped, stumbling back, your sketchbook almost slipping from your hands — when a firm hand caught your wrist just in time.

Warm. Strong. Steady.

Your eyes shot up — and there he was.

Jeon Jungkook.

His black hoodie was half-off his shoulder, earbuds hanging loosely around his neck. That silver lip ring gleamed under the dim hallway light, and his dark eyes were fixed on you.

Time… paused.

You could barely hear anything over the loud thump of your own heart.

His grip was still gentle on your wrist — fingers wrapped around your skin like a whisper, but your whole body felt like it was set on fire.

"Careful, little nerd," he said, voice low and smooth, laced with the hint of a smirk. "You always run into people like that?"

You blinked fast, brain buffering. “I-I’m s-sorry… I didn’t see—”

Your voice broke off as your cheeks flamed red.

Jungkook’s gaze dropped briefly to your lips, then back to your flustered eyes. He didn’t let go of your wrist just yet. And God, was he enjoying the way you squirmed.

He tilted his head, eyebrow ring catching the light. “Where you headed?” he asked lazily. “Auditorium’s empty. No one’s in there this time.”

You quickly shook your head, pulling your wrist gently away from his hold — though a part of you already missed the touch.

“N-no… I’m not going to the auditorium…” you said softly.

His brow lifted. “Then what’s back there?”

Your grip on your sketchbook tightened. You hesitated.

“I just… it’s nothing. Just a quiet place,” you said quickly, biting your lip.

His gaze narrowed, curious now. “You always sneak off to this ‘nothing place’ after class?”

You looked down, shifting your feet nervously. “Sometimes. It’s peaceful.”

He took a step closer. Not threatening — just curious. Observing.

“What’s in there?” he asked again, voice lower now. “Looks like something you're trying to hide.”

You glanced at the door behind you, then back at him. You weren’t sure why, but… you didn’t want to lie to him.

So you sighed, cheeks still warm, and said quietly, “It’s… my art room. I found it months ago. No one uses it, so I cleaned it up. I draw there.”

Jungkook blinked.

"You draw?"

You nodded slowly, unsure of how he was going to react. Everyone always thought you were just a nerd. A bookworm. No one imagined you'd get paint under your fingernails or lose hours blending colors on a canvas.

But Jungkook… didn’t laugh.

He didn’t mock.

Instead, he stared at you with something unreadable in his expression — like he was seeing you… really seeing you… for the first time.

“That’s kinda cool,” he murmured. “Didn’t think you had that in you.”

You frowned slightly. “That I could… draw?”

“That you had a secret side,” he said, eyes flickering between your face and your hands. “Everyone sees the quiet little nerd. No one sees the artist behind the glasses.”

You swallowed.

And then, softly, you asked, “Are you… going to tell anyone?”

He shook his head, smirking.

“Nah,” he said. “Your secret’s safe with me.”

Then, he leaned closer, and whispered just near your ear, “But now I’m very curious to see what else you’re hiding, little nerd.”

Your breath caught in your throat.

And just like that, he walked past you, hands tucked in his hoodie, that bunny smile dancing on his lips — leaving you standing in the hallway with your sketchbook and a heart that just forgot how to beat properly.

A Week Later – In Your Art Room

The sketchbook lay open on your lap.

Pages once filled with wildflowers, cityscapes, and fantasy had now begun to collect something else.

Him.

Jeon Jungkook.

The boy who barely smiled, but when he did… it was the kind of smile that lingered in your chest for hours.

You saw it that day — the real one. Not the cold smirks he flashed at others, not the bored expressions he wore like armor.

But a real, soft, breathtaking smile.

Just for you.

He smiled when you blushed. When you stammered. When you said “I draw.”

And now here he was, again and again, on your pages.

That bunny grin. The curve of his lips. His sharp jawline.

The lip ring.

The brow piercing.

The earrings that caught sunlight just enough to distract you in the middle of class.

You’d spent nearly an hour perfecting the softness of his doe eyes — eyes that sometimes looked so sharp when he fought, but turned warm when they landed on you.

You weren’t sure when it happened — this ache in your chest, this flutter in your stomach when he walked by. But now you could barely sit still when he was near.

And he was always near now.

Not close enough to make it obvious.

But close enough to notice you.

To be continued...