The Calm in His Chaos [GEONXIN]

Chapter 1: Hoodie Boy

The lecture hall buzzed with the kind of noise Zhou Anxin had long learned to tune out. A low, constant hum of conversation, laughter, the shuffle of sneakers against tiled floors. It was like static on a broken radio. Background noise. Harmless, ignorable.

He sat in the very back corner, his desk pushed slightly farther from the row in front of him, his hood casting a soft shadow over his face. His notebook was already half-filled with cramped writing, neat in its own way, even though the words might never get reread.

The professor's voice carried across the hall, bouncing off walls lined with cheap whiteboard paint. Students around him leaned forward eagerly, some typing on laptops, others snapping pictures of slides, some pretending to listen while scrolling through their phones.

Anxin tapped his pen against the margin of his notebook. His stomach gave a quiet, traitorous growl. He pressed his arm lightly against it, as if he could muffle the sound. Skipped breakfast again. Instant noodles at 2 a.m. didn't count as "real food."

He sighed quietly and tugged his hoodie strings tighter.

It wasn't that he hated people. He just... didn't have the energy for them. Their conversations felt like clutter, their laughter too sharp, their problems too loud. His world ran better when it was small. Predictable.

Class. Work. Eat. Sleep. Repeat.

The words in his head felt like the chorus of a song he didn't particularly like but couldn't stop replaying.

"—Kim Geonwoo's car, did you see it?" someone whispered from the row in front of him.

He caught the name without meaning to. He always did.

Kim Geonwoo.

The golden boy of their college. Even if you lived under a rock, you'd still hear his name. Perfect grades, dazzling looks, family with too much money to spend, charisma that drew people like moths to a flame. He was the type of guy people made edits of and posted online with captions like "college prince" or "man of my dreams."

Zhou Anxin had seen him once or twice up close, though "up close" was generous. The kind of distance where Geonwoo was in the front of the hall, speaking confidently with the lecturer, while Anxin was in the back, quietly existing in the shadows.

Unreachable. Untouchable. A different planet entirely.

Anxin flipped a page in his notebook, the paper crackling. He forced his attention back to the board.

Don't stand out. Don't get noticed. Just get through.

That mantra had been stitched into his bones since high school. It had kept him afloat all this time.

When the lecture finally ended, the crowd spilled out in a rush. Voices rose. Bags zipped. Phones lit up with notifications.

Anxin packed his things slower, letting the crowd thin before slipping out. The air outside was brisk, cooler than inside. He breathed easier.

His phone buzzed. A reminder.

Shift starts: 7 p.m.

He glanced at the time. Just enough to grab something cheap to eat and maybe squeeze in an hour of rest. Then another night under harsh fluorescent lights, stocking shelves, smiling politely at half-asleep customers buying cigarettes and instant ramen.

The part-time job was exhausting. But so was rent. And groceries. And electricity. The bills didn't pay themselves, and his parents were a story he didn't bother flipping back to anymore.

By the time the sun dipped low and painted the streets orange, Zhou Anxin was already in his uniform, blue vest over his hoodie, cap pulled down low. He stood behind the counter, scanning items, mumbling automatic greetings.

"Good evening. That'll be 8.50."
"Thank you. Have a nice night."

Rinse, repeat. Another kind of routine.

Sometimes, he wondered if this was all there was for him. Just scraping by, one hoodie-clad day after another. It wasn't depressing exactly, it was survival. And he was good at surviving.

As he leaned against the counter during a lull, eyes half-lidded, his mind drifted again.

Somewhere on campus, Kim Geonwoo was probably at a party. Or maybe studying in some sleek apartment with bookshelves that didn't bend under the weight of secondhand textbooks. Maybe he was laughing easily, surrounded by people who adored him.

And Zhou Anxin? He was here. Selling canned coffee and instant noodles.

Two planets, never meant to collide.

At least, that's what he thought.