I didn't know when he became my distraction—only that my grades noticed first.
The notice board was crowded, just like every other results day.
Students leaned forward, voices overlapping, fingers tracing names as if marks could change if they stared hard enough. I stayed at the edge, my bag pressed against my side, already knowing where my name would be.
First rank.
It always was.
I turned away quickly, before anyone could say anything. Being noticed made me uncomfortable. Silence was easier. Predictable. Safe.
That was when the corridor shifted.
Not physically—but audibly.
Laughter rolled in from the far end, loud and careless, followed by the unmistakable thud of sports shoes against the floor. Heads turned without thinking. Everyone knew that sound.
Kawin.
The boxer.
I kept walking.
I always did.
But today, the space in front of me suddenly disappeared.
I stopped short.
A red boxing glove pressed against the wall beside my head.
I looked up slowly.
He stood too close—sweat still clinging to his skin, sleeveless sports jersey damp from practice, his other glove hanging loosely at his side. His arm was raised casually, not trapping me, just… there. Like he belonged in my space.
"You walk fast," he said, voice light, amused.
I adjusted my glasses, heart doing something unnecessary. "I have class."
"So do I," he replied easily.
I glanced past him. The sports club sign was right there.
"You're going the wrong way," I said.
He smiled.
Not wide. Not smug.
Just a minimal smirk—like he knew something I didn't.
"Maybe," he said.
Our eyes met.
I hated how easily that made my thoughts stumble.
"You're blocking the corridor," I said, stepping back half an inch.
He noticed. Of course he did.
"Oh." He moved immediately, lifting his arm away from the wall. "Sorry."
That… surprised me.
I expected teasing. Or laughter. Or attention.
Instead, he stepped aside and held the door open with his shoulder.
"After you, topper."
I frowned. "Don't call me that."
"Why?" he asked, still smiling. "It suits you."
I walked past him without answering, my ponytail brushing my shoulder as I went. I didn't look back.
I told myself it didn't matter.
Later that evening, I sat at my desk, notebook open, pen in hand.
The formula in front of me refused to make sense.
I stared at the same line for a full minute before realizing I hadn't read a single word.
Annoyed, I flipped the page.
Still nothing.
That was when I noticed my bag zipper slightly open—and the small charm dangling from it, swaying gently.
Old. Faded. Familiar.
I closed my fingers around it unconsciously.
Somewhere in the back of my mind, a smile surfaced.
And that's when it hit me.
Kawin wasn't just loud.
He was distracting.
And I didn't like the fact that I was starting to wonder why.