Y/n sat in the middle of it all, perfectly in her element. Her uniform was a rumpled afterthought, tie loose, sleeves pushed up. A carton of strawberry milk was pressed to her lips, and she was drinking like she'd just crossed a desert.

A large hand landed on top of her head, fingers threading gently through her hair. Seo-jun stood beside her, leaning in close enough that the scent of his cologne — clean, woodsy, something expensive — cut through the cafeteria chaos. His dark eyes watched her with an unreadable softness, the corner of his mouth tilting up just slightly.