So Hyun never imagined his summer vacation would end like this.
At Manila University, he was invisible. Not bullied. Not admired. Just… there. A name on the roster, a face in the crowd. He wasn't particularly handsome, nor did he try to be. His long, unruly black hair veiled his eyes and grazed his cheekbones. Most assumed he was just lazy.
But the hair wasn't laziness. It was armor.
Hidden beneath it were eight silver earrings—five on the left, three on the right. Tiny rings, studs, and chains that caught the light when he turned his head just so. He had gotten them one by one, quietly, over months. Each was a secret rebellion, a silent scream in a world that never asked him to speak.
Even his parents didn't know.
While others spent their summer hiking mountains, sipping iced coffee on rooftops, or posting grinning selfies from internships, So Hyun barely left his room. Curtains drawn. Fan humming. The dull blue glow of his cracked phone screen lighting his face at 2 a.m.
And then it happened. On a sticky, humid night in August.
---
He was sprawled across his futon, earbuds in, brain melting from endless scrolling, when his phone buzzed.
[Messenger Notification – 11:42 PM]
A message. From someone with no name. No profile photo. Just the blank gray silhouette.
Hi.
So Hyun blinked.
A scam bot? A prank?
Still, he typed back:
"Uh… do I know you?"
No response. Just as he was about to close the app—
"No. But you looked interesting."
That was it.
And that was all it took.
---
Over the next week, they messaged nightly. It started with memes and ironic TikToks, but quickly shifted into something deeper. The stranger asked questions no one else dared to:
> "Do you think people can fall in love without meeting?"
"If you vanished tomorrow, would anyone actually notice?"
"What's something you've never told anyone—not even yourself?"
And for reasons he couldn't explain, So Hyun answered. Maybe it was the anonymity. Maybe it was the stillness of the night. Or maybe—just maybe—it was her.
She never told him her name. Never sent a photo. Her voice notes were always filtered, masked by distortions like rain sounds or vocal effects. Like she was afraid of being real.
And yet, she felt more real than anyone he'd talked to in months.
---
By late August, chatting with her became the highlight of his day. He started calling her Gray, a name saved in his phone like a secret bookmark.
Her messages usually came after 10 p.m.—sometimes a single word, sometimes whole paragraphs that read like dreams.
He often wanted to ask what she looked like. What her real name was.
But he didn't. He was scared she'd disappear. And that scared him more than not knowing.
So he stayed quiet.
And imagined.
---
The night before the new semester, So Hyun sat at his desk in the dark, phone glowing in his palm.
He typed:
"Hey… can I ask you something?"
Pause. Delete.
"What if we met someday? Would that ruin things?"
Delete.
He sighed and tossed the phone onto his futon. Coward.
But maybe he didn't want to ruin it. There was something sacred about what they had—unseen, unspoken, undefined. Like a dream you never wanted to wake from.
And if he was being honest, he was starting to fall for her.
---
The next morning, Manila University burst back to life.
Upperclassmen shouted greetings, first-years sprinted with maps, and club recruiters waved flyers like battle flags. The scent of sunscreen, iced coffee, and new notebooks filled the air.
So Hyun moved through it all like fog. Hoodie up, hair long, head down.
He checked his cracked screen.
Literature and Creative Writing – Room 3-B.
He climbed the stairs, pushed the door open—and stopped.
Near the window, poised like she belonged in a movie, sat Felicia Delacruz.
His pulse spiked.
Felicia. Southern University's star. Gorgeous, mysterious, untouchable. People whispered her name in hallways like it was both blessing and warning. With her sleek black hair and unreadable expression, she didn't just enter rooms—she claimed them.
And now she was in his class?
So Hyun scanned the room. All full—except the desk behind her.
He slipped into it, heart thudding like it might break through his ribs.
Then—
"Excuse me," came a voice like chimes.
He turned.
Felicia Delacruz stood beside him.
"Is anyone sitting here?" she asked, gesturing to the seat beside him.
He blinked. "N-No. It's free."
She gave a small, polite smile and sat. The scent of jasmine and citrus brushed the air between them.
He stared straight ahead, brain static.
Felicia Delacruz. Sitting beside him.
Just weeks ago, this would've been the stuff of dreams. She'd been the icon in his mental slideshow, the poster girl of distant crushes.
But now?
She felt... far away. Beautiful, sure. But flat. Like a memory that had lost its color.
Because someone else had taken up that space.
Not Felicia.
Gray.
The girl who spoke in riddles and fragments. Who asked questions no one else dared. Who never saw him—but somehow, saw through him.
Gray, who turned loneliness into poetry.
He glanced down at his desk, then out the window.
Felicia scrolled through her phone beside him, unaware.
This wasn't a fantasy come true. This was the moment he realized he didn't need one anymore.
And that was okay.
Maybe growing up meant letting go of the perfect picture. Not in bitterness, but in quiet gratitude.
> Thanks for the part you played. I'll walk from here.
When the professor called roll and said his name, So Hyun raised his hand.
"Here."
His voice was steady.
A new semester. A new seat. A new story.
That night, back in his room, the sky dimmed into navy. The fan whispered. His phone buzzed.
[New Message – 10:02 PM]
From: Gray
Did you miss me?
So Hyun stared at the screen.
And for the first time all day—he smiled.
Yeah.
He did.