Hi, I’m Cupidhuntr!

This is my first story on MangaToon, and I’m so excited to share it with you!

I’ve also written a few stories on Wattpad under the same username, so you might recognize me from there.

I decided to post here after running into some plagiarism issues, but I’m happy to start fresh with new readers.

Hope you enjoy the story and if you like it, you can check out my other works on Wattpad too!

About this story:

Some parts might be a little different from the Wattpad version! For example, I originally wrote Kook as a boy there, but here I’ll be writing Kook as a girl.

I just wanted to try something new and see how the story feels with a different dynamic, hope you’ll enjoy it either way! 💫

Enough of my ranting...let's get to the essentials.

Before we dive into the story,

This story starts with two siblings shaped by secrets they never asked for and a stranger who will change everything.

A little context about the siblings.

What is Alexithymia?

It's when someone has trouble recognizing or naming their own emotions. They often don't understand others' feelings either, and instead rely on facial expressions or body language to figure out how people are feeling.

What is Autism?

It's a way of experiencing the world differently. People with autism may notice details others don't, have strong reactions to sights or sounds, or think and interact in unique ways. Everyone experiences it a little differently.

And also Autism and alexithymia aren't illnesses. They're ways some brains work differently. It's not about being sick, it's just a different way of experiencing the world.

But why them?

Sometimes, the past passes down in ways you can't see, shaping people before they even know it. For these siblings, it was hereditary-something in their blood and their history made them see and feel the world differently.

Their mother had suffered as a child. She had been raped by her own uncle, over and over, and no one had protected her. Her own mother had gone through the same thing, and to keep the family's name safe, she never spoke out. Silence became a kind of protection, but it left deep scars. Their mother grew up emotionally unavailable, carrying pain she didn't know how to share, and that pain quietly passed to her children.

Their father, related closely enough to be part of the same family line, added another layer to the inheritance. The result was two boys who were wired differently from the start. One struggled to understand emotions and relied on what he could see on other people's faces. The other experienced the world in ways that made social connections difficult.

This is the story of how they grew up with these invisible weights, and how, despite it all, they would meet someone who could finally reach them.

Alien name

Lyrenthix-9-Qalorath-Vee ( Unit 9)

No one knew where they came from, or what they had left behind. Some said they were strange, too observant, too quiet, too aware of things no one else could see.

Once, they had belonged to a place far beyond this world, a place where emotions were visible, and truth existed in color and sound. But something had gone wrong. Something forbidden.

Now, stripped of everything once familiar, they walk among humans, learning to live, to speak, to feel.

Every step is an act of survival. Every word, a borrowed truth.

No one knows the secret they carry, or the reason they were sent here.

...But soon, their path will cross with two siblings and nothing will ever be the same again....

Sunlight cut across the university courtyard in sharp, almost painful lines. Jungkook kept adjusting his backpack straps, each click of the buckle louder than the last in his mind.

Beside him, Hyunjin walked like he was sliding along invisible rails, every step precise, calculated.

"The professor's name is Dr. Lee Minho," Jungkook said, scrolling through his notes.

"I looked him up. Good reviews. Understands different learning styles. I also found the classroom layout online. I can show you the exits. Lighting’s north-facing, shouldn’t be harsh."

“Room 304, second door from the stairwell,” Hyunjin said, scanning the building. “Lights won’t be harsh. I checked yesterday.”

Jungkook faltered slightly. "Right. Of course you did. But… what if the other students are loud? Or touch you without asking? I could stay the first few minutes and explain."

‘No.’ Hyunjin winced, fingers moving in a quick, familiar pattern along his bag strap.

stroke,

stroke,

pinch,

stroke,

stroke, pinch.

They stood in the middle of the pathway, other students flowing around them. Jungkook recognized the signs immediately. He waited. Not speaking. Not moving closer.

"I don't…" Hyunjin started, then stopped. His jaw worked silently before he tried again. "Explaining will make it worse. They'll stare. They'll watch me eat lunch alone and think 'that's the autistic kid whose brother had to explain him.'"

"Hyun…"

"I know you want to help." Hyunjin’s voice softened for a fraction of a second, a tremor he tried to hide. "But I need to do this myself. I’ve practiced. Scripts ready for introductions. Quiet bathroom mapped. Noise-canceling headphones packed."

A group of medical students rushed past, their sudden laughter making him flinch. His fingers picked up pace. Jungkook instinctively stepped closer, forming a small barrier.

"What if you need me?" he asked softly.

"Then I’ll text 'Code Red,' like we planned." Hyunjin’s eyes flicked toward him for just a second. "But I probably won’t need to."

They reached the medical building. Its glass facade reflected morning light in sharp angles. Students clustered around the entrance, their voices overlapping. Hyunjin’s shoulders tensed. His hand shifted from the bag strap to the zipper pull — a newer stim he used to push through discomfort.

"Besides," he added, "you have your own problems."

Jungkook frowned. "What do you mean?"

"It's Tuesday. Advanced Algorithms. Room 201." Hyunjin recited it like reading from a schedule. "Taehyung sits third row, second seat from the left. Always arrives exactly four minutes early."

At the mention of the name, something flickered across Jungkook’s face — resignation, anxiety, something harder to name.

"I can handle Dr. Lee and medical school," Hyunjin said, finally shouldering his bag, a tiny catch in his voice. "Can you handle him?"

Before Jungkook could answer, Hyunjin walked toward the entrance. His measured gait returned, deliberate. Jungkook stayed behind, mind racing, the question heavy on him.

"Wait." Jungkook’s voice stopped him just before the doors. "Hyun… I’m sorry."

Hyunjin paused, hand on the handle, not turning.

"I know you can handle this. I just…" Jungkook ran a hand through his hair. "I worry too much. But you’re right. You’ve got this."

Hyunjin’s shoulders relaxed slightly. He turned just enough to show his profile. "Lunch. Cafeteria. 12:47 PM. After your Algorithms class ends. Corner table by the window. Less noise."

"12:47?"

"Class ends at 12:45. Two minutes to get there. Optimal timing." His lips twitched — maybe amusement, maybe something he didn’t want to show. "Don’t be late. I don’t like waiting when there are too many people."

"I’ll be there at 12:47," Jungkook promised.

"Good." Hyunjin nodded once, decisively. "Now go. Building C, Room 201. Three minutes."

And with that, he disappeared through the glass doors, leaving Jungkook standing alone, pulse racing, and something that felt almost like pride mixed with anxiety.

Seven minutes to Computer Science. Seven minutes to face him…

The walk to the Computer Science building took seven minutes familiar, predictable, yet somehow tense.

Jungkook had timed it multiple times over the past two years. As a third-year Computer Science major with a specialization in Artificial Intelligence and Machine Learning, he'd walked this path countless times, but today his stomach twisted with familiar dread.

The classroom buzzed faintly, the hum of laptops, whispered jokes, and the scrape of chairs creating a lazy rhythm. Jungkook stepped in first, backpack slung neatly, eyes scanning the room like he already owned it. He walked with precision, every step measured, finding his usual seat near the middle. He dropped his bag, settled in, and pulled out his laptop. Calm. Controlled. Observant.

“Hey, Kook,” whispered Jin, seated beside him, flipping open his notebook. “Late night debugging again?”

Jungkook nodded quietly, sliding his laptop open. His fingers hovered over the keys, ready.

The door swung open again, slower this time, and a ripple ran across the room. Everyone turned, some out of curiosity, some out of habit.



Kim Taehyung strolled in, hands in pockets, hair messy but intentional. He paused mid-row, tilted his head, then plopped down at the front.

“Morning,” he said, voice lazy, teasing, almost like he was daring someone to challenge him. He leaned back, crossed one leg over the other, and opened his notebook in a way that seemed effortless, like he owned every second of the moment.

Jungkook noticed him immediately, like a subtle disturbance in his carefully controlled world. His fingers hovered over the keyboard for a beat longer, eyes studying Tae’s every movement. Chill. Unpredictable. Dangerous.

Professor Kim Namjoon entered just then, and the room straightened.

“Let’s take attendance,” Namjoon said. “Min Yoongi?”

“Here.” Yoongi’s drawl barely lifted the silence.

“Jung Hoseok?”

“Present.” Hobi grinned and stretched lazily.

“Jeon Jungkook?”

“Here,” Jungkook replied, calm and clipped.

“Kim Taehyung?”

“Here,” Tae said, eyes half-lidded, voice smooth like warm honey, but with a hint of mischief. He didn’t glance at the professor, didn’t adjust his posture, just leaned back like he was playing a game only he knew the rules to.

Class started, and Jungkook tried to focus. But every now and then, out of the corner of his eye, he caught Taehyung fiddling with his pen-spinning it lazily, tossing it in the air, catching it without looking.

Each small movement felt like a dare, like he was saying without words: You think you’ve got this under control? Watch me break it.

The first problem flashed on the board, and Jungkook typed quickly, fingers moving with machine-like precision. His solution unfolded in clean lines of pseudocode, neat and predictable.

He noted the scrape of the chair across the tile, the whisper of a page turning, the faint scent of marker dust. None of it mattered yet it mattered. He cataloged it all, storing it in a part of his mind he didn’t name.

Meanwhile, Taehyung tilted his head, lips quirking in the faintest smirk, and scribbled something down in his notebook. No stress. No rush. Like this was a game he’d already won.

“Alright,” Professor Kim Namjoon’s voice cut through the quiet hum. “Minimum cost path. Who wants to walk us through the logic?”

Jungkook’s hand shot up first. He walked to the board, marker in hand, and laid out the algorithm structured, flawless, time complexity clear as glass. The professor nodded, impressed.

“Good,” Namjoon said. “Time complexity?”

“O(n²),” Jungkook replied, without hesitation.

Before Namjoon could move on, a low voice spoke from the third row. Calm. Confident.

“Space can be optimized,” Taehyung said, rising slowly. His chair scraped the floor, and the sound pulled every eye in the room.

He strolled forward, took the marker from Jungkook, fingers brushing lightly, erased two lines, and rewrote them sharp and fast.

“You only need one previous row,” he said, tone smooth but firm. “O(n) space. Same time complexity.” He capped the marker and set it down like he had just ended a discussion that never needed to start.

The professor’s brows lifted in surprise. “Exactly. Well done, Taehyung.”

He didn’t even look at Namjoon. He looked at Jungkook. And smirked.

The next question appeared on the board,harder this time. A dynamic programming twist. Namjoon scanned the room. “Anyone want to try?”

Jungkook didn’t wait. He was already on his feet, code unraveling in his mind like clockwork. But before he reached the board, Taehyung leaned back in his chair, one arm slung over the backrest, and said, “You sure you’ve got it, Jungkook?”

Jungkook froze just for a second. Just long enough for Taehyung to smile, a slow, knowing curve of his lips.

Then Jungkook went for it. His solution filled the board, sharp and precise. But before he could finish, Taehyung’s voice came again, smooth as silk:

“Or…"

He stood. Walked forward. Picked up the marker again. And without erasing Jungkook’s work, he wrote a single line beneath it-short, elegant, like a blade sliding through paper.

“This reduces the recurrence,” Taehyung said softly, eyes flicking to Jungkook. “Same result. Less overhead.”

The class buzzed with murmurs. Even Namjoon’s smile grew. “Impressive. Both of you.”

Jungkook stared at the board, jaw tight. Perfect solution and Taehyung had just sliced through it with something cleaner.

A faint ripple ran through the room some whispered, others glanced around but Jungkook barely registered it. He felt a quiet, almost imperceptible shift in the air, like the calm before something sharp hit. And before he could finish processing, the laughter started a jab, a ripple, a sting he didn’t quite name.

The classroom didn’t settle after that. Not really. Jungkook returned to his seat, spine straight, hands steady but his pulse wasn’t. He hated how loud it felt in his ears, how every word Taehyung spoke still clung to him like static.

Across the room, Taehyung slid into his chair like nothing happened. Like he hadn’t just cut Jungkook open with a single line of code. He lounged back, lips curving into that same lazy smile, the kind that didn’t ask for attention but owned it anyway.

Namjoon gave a few final instructions, voice calm as ever, but Jungkook barely heard them. His eyes flicked to Taehyung once...just once and caught him watching. Not openly. Not enough for anyone else to notice. But enough for Jungkook to feel it like heat under his skin.

The bell rang.

Chairs scraped. Laptops clicked shut. The low hum of conversation filled the air like static electricity.

Jungkook stayed seated, taking his time, fingers wrapping his charger neatly like he had all the time in the world. He didn’t. He just refused to move first.

Beside him, Jin zipped his bag and stood. “Hey,” he said lightly, “lunch after this?”

Before Jungkook could answer, the door opened..

Professor Namjoon stepped back in, flipping through his register. Conversations died instantly. He started calling out names, voice calm and steady, until--

“Kim Seokjin.”

Jin looked up, heart thudding louder than it should. Namjoon didn’t speak. Didn’t smile. Just held his gaze for a second too long before marking the sheet. Then he turned and walked out without a word.

That second was all it took.

“Well, well…” Yoongi smirked, his voice cutting through the stillness. “Our flower boy has got himself a fan.”

Jin froze.

Jimin snorted. “A fan? Please. That was more than a fan look. That was… spicy.” His grin sharpened as he glanced at Jin. “Tell us, hyung. You into professors now? Older, smarter, more… experienced?”

The laughter that followed was cruel, sharp-edged.

“Don’t tell me it’s true,” Hoseok added, his tone mock-serious. “Namjoon-hyung, huh? What’s next? You two sharing lunch boxes?”

“Gross,” another voice muttered from the back.

“You people are sick.”

Jin’s throat worked, words clawing to get out-

Repetition of insult serves no purpose. Why do they waste energy? Jungkook thought.

Jungkook spoke before they did, voice low and steady, like the noise didn’t register.

“Ignore them,” he said, eyes still on his screen, as if the room’s tension was a language he didn’t speak.

“Look at this,” Yoongi snorted. “Little nerd protecting his hyung. Cute.”

“Oh yeah,” Jimin smirked, stepping closer. “What’s next, Jungkook? You gonna cry for him?”

Laughter spiked. Jungkook stood slowly, chair scraping the floor like a warning.

“You done?” Jungkook asked, tone even, almost curious like he wasn’t in the same fight as everyone else, just watching a problem that needed solving.

The noise dipped for a second. Then Yoongi laughed louder. “Oh, look. Our genius nerd joins the party. Cute. You two make a nice pair.”

“Match made in hell,” Jimin added with a grin. “Topper boy and… the professor’s toy.”

Jungkook’s hands curled into fists under the desk. Jin shot him a warning glance...don’t

“Funny,” he said softly, voice laced with steel. “Didn’t realize failing math three times gives you a sense of humor.”

The laughter choked off. Yoongi’s grin faltered, anger sparking in his eyes.

“What did you say?”

“You heard me,” Jungkook said, calm and cold, slipping his notebook into his bag. “Next time, try passing before you talk.”

The room went quiet, thick with tension until a laugh slid through the air. Smooth. Low.

Everyone turned.

The grin faltered for half a second. Just enough.

But before Jimin could bite back, another voice broke in. Smooth. Low. Dangerous.

“Wow.”

Every head turned. Taehyung was leaning against a desk, head tilted not like he was amused, but like he was observing something strange. Something worth remembering.

He pushed off slowly, steps lazy but deliberate, and came to stand between them, right in front of Jungkook.

“Golden boy gets feisty,” he drawled, tilting his head. “Didn’t think you had it in you.”

Jungkook’s jaw tightened. “Move.”

Taehyung didn’t. He smiled slow, curling, sharp at the edges. “What’s the rush, Kook? Scared?”

The class buzzed with laughter again, softer this time, unsure where this was going. Taehyung stepped closer, his voice dropping low enough that only Jungkook caught it:

“You break easy, Jeon?” Taehyung’s voice cut through the laughter-smooth, amused, carrying an edge sharp enough to quiet the room. He didn’t sound angry. He didn’t sound like he cared. Just curious.

Then, tilting his head with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes, he added,

“Don’t. It’s boring when things break too soon.”

“Number one rank, big brain, top of the world…” Taehyung smirked. “And still so easy to mess with.”

The laughter returned, this time riding on Taehyung’s words like they were gospel.

Jungkook didn’t answer. Couldn’t. Not with Taehyung’s eyes holding his like that dark, unreadable, almost… warning.

Taehyung grinned, stepped back, and slung his bag over his shoulder. “See you around, nerd.”

And just like that, he was gone, leaving Jungkook standing there, pulse hammering, anger burning under his skin… and something else he didn’t want to name.

The laughter buzzed like static, but it didn’t sting. It never did. That wasn’t how his brain worked. At least, he thought it wasn’t.

This time Taehyung strolled off, smirking like it was a game.

Next time, Jungkook would make sure he played by his rules.