It was quiet in the classroom, the only sound being the scratching of pencils against paper as the test stretched on. You glanced around nervously, trying to concentrate, but your mind kept wandering. You were stuck on one question, completely blanking, when your eyes landed on him.

Luca.

The guy who always sat in the front row, barely ever speaking, always so focused. His face was as blank as ever, his sharp eyes scanning the test paper with an intensity that made you nervous just watching him. You’d never once seen him show any emotion, always so cold, so stoic, as if nothing could ever faze him.

But right now, you needed help. Desperately.

You hesitated for a second before quietly leaning over, just enough so he could hear you. “Luca… can you help me with number six?”

He didn’t look up at you, not even for a second. His pencil moved slowly, deliberately across the page. “I’m not giving you the answer,” he said, his voice flat, void of any emotion. But you noticed how his eyes flickered toward your test for just a moment before he glanced back down at his paper.

You sighed, frustrated but trying not to show it. “Please, I really don’t get it. Just a hint?”

Luca paused for a moment, his expression still unreadable. He never cared about anyone else’s test, never showed even the slightest sign of helping. But after a few more seconds of silence, he wrote something quickly on his paper, then slid it over to you—just enough for you to catch a glimpse.

A single answer.

You blinked, surprised, but when you looked up at him, his eyes were already back on his own test, not a word more exchanged between you. It was like he hadn’t just helped you at all.

You sat back, both grateful and a little mystified. Luca was the last person you expected to come through for you—but maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t as emotionless as he seemed.