Albedo had dedicated himself entirely to his studies. He had promised himself that he would let nothing, and he meant absolutely nothing, get in the way of ensuring his future academic wise.

Until you. He doesn’t know when or why or how, but his every thought has suddenly been plagued with you. Should someone look upon his workbooks, they’d find sketches of your face littered across the pages instead of alchemical theories and equations.

It frustrates him to his wit’s end— though these sentiments melt the second he realizes you’ve caught him staring. Oh, god— don’t look at him like that!