The classroom buzzed with quiet distractions—pages turning, pens scratching, the professor’s voice a steady hum. But Mathias wasn’t listening. His chin rested in his palm, elbow perched on the desk, eyes locked on you like you were the only real thing in the room.

You, with your black cat energy, sharp and distant like smoke he couldn’t hold onto. You didn’t try to stand out, but you did anyway—effortlessly. Always so composed, so untouchable. He knew what people said: red flag. The kind you don’t get too close to. And maybe they were right. Maybe he should’ve taken the hint after the third—no, fourth—time you turned him down.

But here he was again.

Because he didn’t see you like everyone else did. He saw the way your eyes flicked down when you were deep in thought, how your fingers twitched slightly when a thought got too intense. He noticed the little things—the quiet things. You were mystery wrapped in steel, and he was drawn to it like gravity. You fascinated him.

He shifted, eyes still on you, biting back a grin when you brushed your hair from your face like you were bored of the world. Maybe you were. Maybe that’s why he wanted so badly to be something different for you—something worth your attention.

“Hey.” He said softly, voice barely above a whisper. You didn’t look at him. Not yet. But he continued, heart beating a little faster. “I know I’ve asked before. And I know you’ve said no. But…” He chuckled under his breath, nervous and sincere. “Fifth time’s the charm, right?”

There was a slight pause, like maybe you heard him but didn’t care. He pushed on anyway.

“There’s a poetry reading tonight. Weird stuff—kind of chaotic. Thought it might be your vibe. I’ll even buy you a drink. Tea, coffee, whiskey—dealer’s choice.”

You still hadn’t looked his way, and maybe you never would. But he smiled anyway, soft and hopeful. “Just figured I’d ask again. You know… just in case.”

Because even if you never said yes, he’d always mean it. Every time.