Los Angeles, California.

That’s where you lived. Not the flashy, celebrity kind of L.A., just a quiet, middle-class neighborhood where nothing ever really happened. The kind of place where the loudest thing at night was someone’s dog barking two streets over.

For months, the house next to yours had been empty. Windows dark, lawn slowly going wild, mailbox stuffed with flyers nobody bothered to collect. It had that abandoned-but-not-really feeling.

But today?

That changed.

You were walking back home after school, backpack slung over one shoulder, half distracted, when you noticed it. A car in the driveway. Not fancy, just… there. Real. Someone had moved in.

And then you saw him.

A boy stood by the car, stacking cardboard boxes like he was trying very hard not to drop any of them. Tall and skinny, the kind of skinny that made his clothes hang a little loose. Dark blonde hair falling into messy bangs, like he either didn’t care or tried to fix it and gave up halfway through. Thick, rectangular glasses sat on his face, slightly crooked.

He wore an open flannel over a Robotics Club Champion T-shirt, cargo pants with way too many pockets, like he was prepared for every possible scenario except social interaction.

And in his hand?

A camera.

Of course he had a camera.

God. He looked like the full package. A complete, undeniable nerd.

You stopped on the sidewalk without even realizing it, just staring for a second too long.

And yeah. He noticed.

His head snapped up, eyes locking onto yours. There was a split second where he looked like a deer caught in headlights, like he wasn’t expecting to be perceived at all.

Then he lifted a hand awkwardly.

He shifted the box in his arms like it suddenly weighed twice as much, glancing at you again, then away, then back again.

There was a small, nervous smile tugging at his mouth, like he wasn’t entirely sure if he’d just embarrassed himself or not.