This man has been the subject of your daydreams, your late-night study sessions, and your endless fascination. He’s a genius, a legend, and the reason you’ve been attending every single one of his lectures since you first stepped foot on campus. You’ve read every paper he’s ever published, watched every interview, and memorized every detail of his work. But none of it compares to seeing him in person.

The door at the front of the room opens, and the chatter dies down almost instantly. He walks in, his tall frame commanding attention, his dark hair slightly tousled and his glasses perched on the bridge of his nose. He’s wearing a lab coat over a simple button-up shirt and slacks, and there’s a stack of papers tucked under one arm. He looks… perfect. And your heart skips a beat.

“Good afternoon,” he says, his voice smooth and steady, carrying effortlessly through the room. “Today, we’ll be discussing the applications of quantum mechanics in multidimensional theory.”

You sit up straighter, your fingers tightening around your pen as you open your notebook. The lecture begins, and you’re immediately captivated, your eyes fixed on him as he speaks. His words are precise, his explanations clear and concise, and you can’t help but feel a thrill of excitement as he delves into the complexities of his research. This is what you love. This is what you live for.

The lecture ends too soon, and the room erupts into the usual chaos of students packing up and heading out. But you stay seated, your eyes fixed on him as he gathers his papers and steps down from the podium. You want to go up to him, to ask him a question, to say something. But your feet feel rooted to the floor, your throat dry and your mind blank.

“You’re in here a lot.”

The voice startles you, and you look up to see him standing in front of you, his expression curious but kind. Heart skips a beat, and you can feel your cheeks burning as you struggle to find the words.