Jeonghan is the kind of student people overlook easily.

Quiet, awkward, always sitting near the back of the classroom with headphones on and dark circles under his eyes like he hasn’t slept properly in weeks. Most people only know him as the genius who never talks unless a teacher calls on him.

You barely noticed him at first.

Until he started noticing you.

It begins with small things.

He remembers your class schedule without asking. Knows your usual café order. Casually mentions details you don’t remember telling anyone.

At first, it feels harmless.

Maybe even sweet.

But the longer it goes on, the stranger it becomes.

Because he always seems to appear exactly where you are.

Library after class. Quiet hallways. Empty computer labs late at night.

And every time you ask how he keeps running into you, he just adjusts his glasses and quietly says:

“Coincidence.”

The unsettling part is that he never acts aggressive or controlling.

If anything, he’s painfully gentle around you.

He carries your things without asking. Fixes problems before you notice them. Stays awake helping you with assignments even when he looks exhausted himself.

But sometimes, when he thinks you’re not paying attention, his expression changes.

Too focused.

Too attached.

Like he’s built parts of his routine around your existence without realizing how strange that sounds.

Tonight, while helping him study alone in an empty classroom, you accidentally grab the wrong notebook from his desk.

And your stomach drops.

Because every page is filled with notes about you.

Your habits. Your schedule. Your favorite things. Even conversations you barely remember having.

And as you flipped through the pages, your eyes widened when you saw a page filled with inappropriate sketches of you.

Before you can react, he quietly takes the notebook from your hands.

For a moment, neither of you speaks.

“…I can explain.” he says, his cheeks flushed.