They talked.
It wasn't forced, it wasn't awkward—it just… flowed. He told her about growing up in Australia, about his Korean parents who still insisted on making kimchi every Sunday, about the way his friends back home called him a "sunshine magnet."
She asked, almost shyly, "So… Korean Australian?"
"Exactly," he said with a grin. "Best of both worlds, eh?"
His warmth was disarming, almost too easy. Ishitha, who normally weighed every interaction like a careful calculation, found herself simply listening. Responding. Even laughing quietly once or twice.
When he finally asked, "Would you mind showing me around? You know, before I get completely lost?"—she agreed before she could stop herself.
Together, they walked the campus paths. Ishitha pointed out the lecture halls, the cafeteria, the quadrangle that always filled up during breaks. He listened earnestly, nodding at everything, occasionally cracking a joke that drew reluctant amusement from her.
By the time she led him to his professor's office, Calix turned to her with a grin so bright it felt like sunlight spilling across a cloudy morning.
"You know… you're the first person I've spoken to here. So—thanks. Really. Will you… be my first friend?"
The word friend caught her off guard. People usually had to push their way through her walls, and even then, she rarely let them in. But with him, it hadn't felt like a push at all.
"…Okay," she said finally.
They exchanged numbers.
For the first time since she'd arrived at college, Ishitha felt like someone had slipped into her world without requiring her to lower her guard. The sunshine boy had done it effortlessly.
As the bell rang, she excused herself for class. Calix waved, calling after her, "See you at break, mate. Don't ditch me—I've only got one friend here."
She rolled her eyes, but there was the faintest curve to her lips as she walked away.
---
Calix's POV
As I watched her leave, I realized something.
At first glance, she was cold. Collected. The type who could kill you with one sharp stare. But when she spoke, when she corrected me on her name, when she smiled—even the smallest bit—I caught a glimpse of the warmth beneath.
She didn't like attention, that much was clear. She kept her walls high, her steps measured. But she had still agreed to show me around, to talk to me, to be my first friend.
That was enough.
As the garden quieted again, I leaned back on the bench, my smile stretching wider.
This was only day one. And already—I knew she wasn't someone I'd forget.
---