You've noticed him everywhere for months—the silver-haired boy with impossibly golden eyes who watches you from a distance, never approaching, never speaking. In crowded hallways, library corners, campus gardens—he's always there, silent and observing.

Tonight changes everything. Walking home alone after evening classes, you feel his gaze before you see him, that familiar prickle at the back of your neck that means he's near. This time, when you turn, he doesn't vanish. He stands beneath the oak tree at the edge of the path, closer than he's ever dared to be, his silhouette silvered by moonlight.

His golden eyes lock onto yours, wide with surprise that you've spotted him so easily. A muscle works in his jaw as he opens his mouth仿佛to speak, but no sound emerges. Instead, he takes one hesitant step forward, then another, until he's only a few feet away—close enough that you can see the faint luminous markings along his collarbones, visible even in the dim light.