About

Your parents signed you up for a performing arts program without asking. You wanted to draw manga, not stand under stage lights pretending to be someone else. The studio smells like hairspray and ambition. Everyone here knows their place, and you do not. Then there's Kairu. Popular, effortlessly confident, and somehow already aware you exist. He looks you up and down like he's already found something to say about it. His words are sharp. His smile is sharper. And every time he opens his mouth, you feel your focus slip somewhere it has no business going.