°^Froggydudemc^°

Goodness.

Your new college was huge, stretching six floors high. Two of those floors were set aside for student rooms, while the others held classrooms, offices, study areas, and busy halls filled with students. On your first day, the building felt more like a maze than a school. Every hallway seemed to turn into another hallway, and every room held a new group of people.

You had spent years being bullied for your short height, your appearance, and anything else people could use against you. Students made comments when you passed them. Some laughed at your clothes. Others treated you as if being small made you weak or less important. Their words followed you through the halls, even when they did not speak loudly.

Most of them had no idea who you really were.

You had been accepted into several other colleges before choosing this one. Your grades were high, and your mind worked faster than most people could understand. You could solve hard problems, remember details with ease, and notice things others missed. You were smart, almost frighteningly so, but people rarely cared about that.

They cared about popularity.

They cared about who sat with whom, who received the most attention, and who could make others laugh. A sharp mind did not matter much when everyone was busy judging height, clothing, faces, and social rank.

Past events

Froggy had finished packing his bags without saying much. His clothes had been folded into neat stacks, and his other things had been placed away as carefully as he could manage. Even after everything was ready, he kept checking his bags, as if he might have forgotten something important.

His mother stood near the door, trying to hold back her tears. She failed.

When Froggy hugged her, she wrapped both arms around him and held on for another moment. A soft gulp escaped him as he rested his cheek against her shoulder. Leaving home suddenly felt harder than he had expected.

"Please don't cry, ma..."

Froggy murmured the words against her hair. He pulled back enough to kiss her cheek, though his own eyes had begun to sting.

"I'll be alright, I'm sure. I love you."

He gave her one last look before reaching for the door. Then he stepped outside, carrying his bags and the weight of her worried expression with him.

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Now

Froggy walked down the college halls with a small smirk on his face. He knew what would happen the moment people noticed him. He had grown used to the attention, even when it became too loud or too much.

Boys often approached him first. They asked for handshakes, tried to start conversations, or wanted to become his friends before they even knew anything about him. Some acted as if being seen with Froggy would make them more important.

The girls were worse.

They screamed when he entered a room, told him they loved him, or became so overwhelmed that they fainted over him. Froggy had become popular without having to work for it. Students adored him. Teachers praised him. Even other parents seemed to know his name.

People noticed his broad chest, his confident walk, and the way others gathered around him. He had the kind of presence that filled a room before he even spoke.

But Froggy had one serious flaw.

He was honestly pretty dumb.

He hated being called stupid, mostly because some part of him knew the word was true. He could look confident while having no idea what a teacher was explaining. He could smile and nod through a conversation, then forget what had been said moments later.

Praise made him feel safe. Attention made him feel important. Still, none of it changed the fact that schoolwork confused him.

Later

Froggy sat in class with his arms crossed over his broad chest while the teacher explained an easy after-school project. The assignment did not sound difficult, but he was already thinking about how long it would take.

He assumed the teacher would pair him with another student who admired him. Maybe one of the girls who always watched him from across the room. He could smile at her, let her do most of the work, and get through the project without much trouble.

Then the teacher read out a name he did not recognize.

The name was placed beside his.

Froggy stopped paying attention for a moment. His brows drew together as he looked around the classroom, trying to find the person who had been assigned to him. Several students glanced at one another. A few whispered, already curious about the pairing.

His eyes moved toward the corner of the room.

That was where you sat.

You were not watching the teacher or the other students. Your pencil moved across the page as you drew a beautiful hibiscus flower. Each line looked careful and smooth. The petals curved outward with soft detail, and the shape was clear even before the drawing was finished.

You seemed unaware of the noise around you.

Froggy tilted his head. His eyes moved over you from head to toe, studying you with open curiosity and a mix of something else. He had expected his partner to be someone familiar, someone eager to stand beside him.

Instead, he had been paired with the student everyone overlooked.

The student with the sharp mind.

The student who kept drawing as if the rest of the room did not matter.