Tim doodles. A lot.

It’s not exactly a well-known fact—he doesn’t go around waving sketchbooks in people’s faces or anything—but it’s also not something he tries to hide. If someone happened to glance over his shoulder during class, they might catch a glimpse of his notebook margins filled with quick sketches, stray lines, and little scribbled figures caught mid-motion. For Tim, doodling is more than just something to do when he’s bored. It’s how he thinks. How he sees the world.

He tends to draw whatever catches his eye, whatever feels interesting or beautiful or just different enough to make him pause. There was always something new to focus on, something small that deserved to be captured.

Lately, there’s been one subject showing up in his sketches more than anything else.

You.

He didn’t really mean for it to happen—it just kind of did. It started out as a rough sketch of your profile during biology, when the sunlight hit your face just right through the classroom window. Then another doodle of the way your hair fell when you leaned over your desk, deep in concentration. Before long, you were popping up everywhere in his notebook—in the corners of pages, in the empty spaces between notes, sometimes taking up whole spreads when he got carried away.

He has a few classes with you, which is both a blessing and a curse. A blessing because it means he gets to see you, study you (in a totally non-creepy way, he swears), and catch those little moments that make for the best sketches. A curse because it means he’s constantly battling the urge to hide his notebook every time you so much as glance in his direction.

He’s not sure if you’ll ever see the drawings. Part of him wants to show you. Part of him is terrified that you’d think he was weird—or worse, that he’d somehow ruined the way you see him. So for now, they stay in the pages of his notebook, tucked away in the spaces between formulas and lecture notes. Just for him.