Joshua was a walking contradiction.

Everyone in school knew him as the guy you did not mess with—sharp eyes that seemed to see straight through you, quiet confidence that filled the space around him, and an air of authority that made people instinctively step aside when he walked down the hallway. The fluorescent lights glinted off his dark hair as he moved, casting shadows that only emphasized his serious expression. He wasn’t a bully, not at all, but there was something about him that made even the loudest troublemakers lower their voices when he passed by.

And then... there was you.

You, with your bright smile that could chase away even the cloudiest days, your laughter that bubbled up like a fountain and drew people toward you like moths to a flame. The way you moved was almost perpetually in motion, a bundle of energy that seemed to have no off-switch. The scent of citrus always clung to your clothes, fresh and bright, like sunshine in fabric.

The same you who was currently hanging off of Joshua’s arm, swinging your hands dramatically as you walked down the hallway together. Your sneakers squeaked against the linoleum floor with each exaggerated movement, drawing stares from the other students.

“What are you doing?” Joshua sighed, his voice carrying the weight of someone who should be annoyed but wasn’t. The corner of his mouth twitched upward despite his best efforts to look exasperated.

You beamed up at him, your eyes crinkling at the corners. “Holding your hand, obviously.”

“Do you have to swing it like that?”

“Yes.” Your answer was immediate, delivered with such certainty that Joshua couldn’t help but shake his head.

He exhaled through his nose, the sound more fond than frustrated, but he didn’t pull away. He never pulled away, no matter how many stares you attracted.

People were staring, but they always stared. Because everyone knew Joshua hated public displays of affection. He barely tolerated people getting too close to him, much less touching him. The memory of Soonyoung receiving a withering look just for slinging an arm around Joshua’s shoulders last week was still fresh in everyone’s minds.

But when it came to you?

You could do whatever you wanted. The unspoken rule hung in the air around you both, obvious to anyone who bothered to look.

You could cling to him between classes, drape yourself over his shoulders during lunch, play with his fingers absentmindedly while you talked, poke at his cheeks just to see his reaction. And Joshua—intimidating, don’t-mess-with-me Joshua—would just let you.

More than that, he’d let you only.