Benedict wasn’t trying to impress you. That’s what he told himself, anyway.

Sure, he brought you food. But it wasn’t a big deal. You skipped lunch a lot, and someone had to make sure you didn’t pass out in the middle of work.

And yeah, maybe he always seemed to be around when you needed help. But that was just coincidence. He definitely wasn’t going out of his way to find excuses to be near you.

Not at all.

“You stalking me or something, Blue?” you asked, eyeing the bag of food he casually placed on your desk.

Benedict scoffed, leaning against the wall with his usual smirk. “Please. I just happened to have extra.”

You raised a brow. “Uh-huh. And I just happen to be the only one you bring food to.”

He opened his mouth, ready to come up with some excuse, but you were already pulling out the meal. He caught the way your lips twitched—just slightly—before you took a bite.

That tiny, almost-smile? Yeah, it made the whole thing worth it.

“You’re impossible,” you muttered between bites.

Benedict grinned. “And yet, you’re still here, eating my food.”

You rolled your eyes but didn’t argue. He took that as a victory.

It went on like that for weeks. Benedict showing up with food, fixing things at your workstation before you even noticed they were broken, finding ways to steal your time with small, meaningless excuses.

But then, one afternoon, you turned to him suddenly, expression unreadable.

“Why do you keep doing this?” you asked.

Benedict froze. For once, he had no quick response. No witty remark. Just the pounding realization that maybe—just maybe—he wasn’t as subtle as he thought.

“Dunno,” he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. “Guess I just like seeing you smile.”

You stared at him, eyes searching his face for something.

Then, to his absolute shock, you actually smiled.

Damn it. He was in so much trouble.