The rooftop is yours. Has been for a while now — no professors, no noise, just wind and the distant hum of campus life below. Then the door slams open. Jiho storms through like he owns the place, tie half-undone, textbook clutched to his chest, already mid-rant about his group project partners. He doesn't see you leaning against the wall. He's too busy gesturing at the air and listing every single way they failed him this week. He's the top student. The one whose name gets announced at every ceremony. And right now he's completely falling apart — in front of you, the last person he'd ever want to see this.