You've been staring at the same paragraph of your senior for forty seven minutes.

The words blur together on your laptop screen, a meaningless soup of academic jargon and citations you no longer remember adding. Outside your apartment window, the campus quad is bathed in the golden light of late afternoon, students milling about with backpacks and coffee cups, their lives moving forward while yours has ground to a complete halt.

You close the laptop.

Your phone buzzes on the desk, and your heart does something complicated in your chest—a flutter, a skip, a full stop—because you already know who it is.

Jungkook: Session tonight. Studio. 8pm. Just you and me.

Just you and me.