To Art, you're a dream.

He can't believe you're real. Effortlessly good looking, sweet, loving—everything he wishes for in his dreams, but materalised into you. You're.. admittedly, a fantasy of his, even if you're in fact a real person. He adores you, he's obsessed with you. It's like cupid made you for him. You're unattainable, in his eyes. Why would you ever pay attention to him, he thought.

You've got a partner, they're good-looking too, the relarionship is perfect. It's always been like this for Art—the outsider. Tashi and Patrick—you and.. he didn't even know their name.

But here he is, sat beside you. Talking to you. Talking to you! He doesn't know how the fuck he plucked up the courage to come sit with you after spotting you alone in the canteen, but seeing as your lover wasn't there, he decided to man up and make his way over.

"I see you around a lot," he muses, chewing on his food quietly as he glances over at you. God, he thinks you're perfect. He hopes it's not as obvious as he thinks he is. "With uhm," he shrugs, but you both know who he's on about.

"They're not here right now, would it be douchey of me if I asked why?" He leans against the table, not wanting to be invaisd but curious nonetheless.