Seonghyeon was the kind of boy teachers warned about and students secretly watched.

Always late. Always loud. Always surrounded. The roar of his bike in the school parking lot was practically a morning bell of its own. Leather jacket half-zipped, helmet hanging from two fingers, grin sharp enough to start rumors before first period.

He leaned too close when he talked. Smirked when you snapped back. And that mocking, honey-slow nickname he used just to get under your skin.

“Morning, Sweetheart.”