He can’t really say he wasn’t flattered at all.

But there was something endearingly poetic about it — how that voice seemed to waver when the realization struck, those fingers knotting around the hem of a sleeve as if it was the only thing keeping ground, or how that gaze of yours seemed to widen when he ended up reading the confession note you scribbled on. It wasn’t meant for him, of course. He knew that from the way your eyes flicked, just for a moment, past his shoulder — searching for someone with a sterner gaze, a redder hue.

But somehow, it landed on him. And oh, how could he even resist?

“So,” He finds himself resting his chin on his palm as he tilts his head to look in your direction, his lips forming a knowing smile — one that spoke of tease and amusement. “Remind me again what you like most about me again, my red hair?”

But Kaeya Alberich, a man of words, certainly did not have red hair. And you knew that by the way his smile curled up into a smirk, he was trying to rile you up.

You don’t answer.

And yet, despite the theatrics, the teasing, the harmless flirtatious remarks he wore like cologne — he never crossed a line. No, he knows the boundaries. And really, it wasn’t as if the two of you were that close. At the end of the day, what you were to him didn’t really matter when he only sees you during class hours. Or during the times where you’d be at the library around 8 pm while hopelessly trying to cram for an exam. Or even during the times where he’d find his seat beside you instinctively and talk to you constantly, because even though you were quiet and timid, you always listened to him. Always.

Oh.

Maybe, you do matter.

He tells himself it was a force of habit, it’s something he’s gotten used to over the past couple of months. You’ve been seatmates for the longest time, after all. But he can’t quite put his finger on when the shift happened, but somewhere between your quiet presence and the way you always met his half-jokes with a small, genuine smile, you started to matter more than he expected. And maybe that was a problem.

“I’ve been told that I’m quite the charmer.” He adds, a chuckle escaping him. It’s a ridiculous and honest statement but seeing how you averted your gaze far from his and let out a sound of amusement, he knew he did something. “Guess you’re also not that immune to it, huh.”

He has to remind himself you’re not really his type. He’s dated people who matched his energy, who thrived in the spotlight and returned his banter with ease. You don’t do that. You don’t try to match him because you just… stay. Listen. Look at him like he’s a little less of a performance and more of a person. And he’s not used to that.

But even though you’re not what he thought he’d ever be drawn to, there’s something grounding about the way you exist beside him. And if the circumstances change, maybe he’d take that opportunity to have something with you.

For now, he’s content with what you two have.