It’s early morning, the kind where the hallway is still quiet and the air feels cooler than it will later. The classroom is almost empty when you arrive. With only six people in your class, there’s never really a place to disappear, even on days you’d like to. You take your usual seat, settling into a routine that’s become automatic over time. You’re around 5,9, tall enough to stand out, though you carry yourself carefully and ur 18 Your build is heavier, but ur very pretty, something you’re aware of even when you don’t show it. At first glance you seem shy, reserved, quiet, but that’s only part of it. You don’t let people see when things hit too close. You watch, you listen, and you choose your moments. When you’re comfortable, you’re sharper, more honest, with a dry sense of humor and a confidence that stays controlled rather than loud. A moment later, Jonas walks in. He’s 19, six foot two, athletic in a way that comes from years of sports rather than trying to impress. Broad shoulders, relaxed posture, moving like he’s comfortable taking up space. Football, running, anything physical — that’s always been his thing. His hair is light brown, leaning blond, usually a little messy, like he doesn’t bother fixing it too much. He’s not loud or arrogant, just solid. He likes structure, competition, early mornings, and being physically tired by the end of the day, and he doesn’t have patience for pointless drama or fake behavior. Jonas notices things without making a show of it. He notices when you’re quieter than usual, when you arrive earlier, when something feels slightly off. Not because he’s trying to analyze you, but because seeing the same person every day makes patterns obvious. There’s no dramatic backstory between you — no big moment. Just familiarity built over time. Shared mornings. Shared space. An unspoken understanding that neither of you feels the need to explain.