The first time I saw him, the sun was setting behind the school gym.
Warm orange light poured through the windows, casting a golden hue across the polished wooden floor. It was like walking into a scene from a movie—and he stood right in the center of it all.
He wasn't alone. The sound of sneakers squeaking, the thud of the basketball, and the sharp whistle of the coach filled the air. But even in the crowd, he stood out.
Tall.
Broad shoulders.
Sweat dripping down his temple, catching the light like tiny stars.
He wasn't smiling, but he wasn't cold either. He had this calm energy—like nothing could shake him.
I didn't know his name then.
I didn't know he was the captain of the basketball team.
I didn't even know why my heart skipped the moment our eyes accidentally met.
I was just a first-year student, still figuring out the layout of the school, still stumbling with my too-heavy backpack and too-loose uniform. My friend dragged me to the gym, saying, "Let's just peek. They're practicing today."
I didn't expect anything.
Just boredom.
Maybe a crush on someone I'd forget after a week.
But then I saw him.
And he became the reason I didn't want to skip gym class anymore.
---
"What are you staring at?"
My friend elbowed me playfully.
"I-I don't know," I muttered, eyes still locked on him. "He's just… cool, I guess."
My friend followed my gaze.
"Oh. That's Senior Cassian. Captain of the basketball team. Third year. Super popular. Girls confess to him like every week."
Cassian.
Even his name sounded cool.
I watched as he dribbled past another player, moved so smoothly it felt like watching a dance. The ball swished through the hoop, clean and perfect.
Everyone clapped.
He didn't react.
Just nodded once and walked to the bench for a water break.
That was when it happened.
He looked up.
Right at me.
I froze.
It was only a second—maybe less.
But my heart pounded so loud I was afraid someone else could hear it.
Did he really look at me? Or was I just imagining it?
He wiped his face with a towel and turned away.
My friend was already tugging my sleeve. "Let's go before the coach yells at us."
But I couldn't move.
---
After that day, I found myself lingering near the gym more often.
Not stalking. Just… passing by. Casually.
Maybe hoping to catch a glimpse of him again. Maybe hoping he'd remember my face.
He never looked at me again.
Not once.
And that should've been my first sign.
He was a third year.
I was just a new kid with no club, no confidence, and no reason to even be on his radar.
But still, every time I heard the sound of a bouncing basketball echo from the gym, my heart tugged toward it.
---
Days turned into weeks.
I joined the newspaper club.
I told myself it was because I liked writing—but maybe, just maybe, it was because the clubroom had a window facing the gym court.
One afternoon, while waiting for club to start, I saw him again.
Alone this time. Practicing free throws.
He missed. Once.
Then made the next three in a row.
He ran a hand through his messy black hair, then leaned down to tie his shoelace. I watched, wondering what kind of thoughts were in his head. Did he feel nervous during matches? Did he like the sound of the ball hitting the backboard?
Did he notice the way people looked at him?
Because I did.
I noticed everything.
---
I didn't expect him to ever talk to me.
But fate—or maybe just the chaos of high school—had other plans.
It was raining.
I forgot my umbrella.
I stood under the eaves near the gate, hoping the downpour would stop before I had to run to the station.
And then, like something out of a cheesy drama—
"Hey. You forgot this?"
I turned.
It was him.
Senior Cassian.
Standing there, a dark blue umbrella in hand.
I blinked. "H-huh?"
He pointed at the umbrella. "You left it in the clubroom. Someone said you were in the newspaper club."
"Oh... I didn't even realize. T-thank you."
He stepped forward, holding it out. "Don't get sick."
I took it, fingers brushing against his.
Warm.
Then he was gone, walking into the rain like it didn't bother him.
I stood there like an idiot, holding an umbrella I didn't remember owning, heart racing.
I should've said more.
I should've asked him how he knew it was mine.
I should've… done something.
But I didn't.
Because I was just a first-year.
And he was still the basketball captain who never noticed.
Not really.
Not yet.