It was Tuesday.

The kind of day that passed with little consequence. Nothing remarkable. He had one class and he had just finished it a while ago. Really, there was nothing attention worthy to meddle with or interesting enough to catch his attention. Just campus chatter, the scent of brewed coffee clinging to the air, and the hush of shoes against cobblestone paths.

And then, he saw you.

You weren't doing anything extraordinary. Nothing interesting. Just sitting on a bench beneath the old acacia tree, flipping through a book with a half distracted look written across your features, as if the world had the audacity to continue turning while you were in mid-thought.

For a moment, he forgot how to breathe.

It wasn't like him — this wasn't like him at all, really.

To pause.

And maybe to look longer than necessary.

He wasn't being a weirdo, right? Quickly, he averts his gaze away with the tips of his ears reddening. Fortunately, you didn't catch him staring at you. He kept walking, this was nothing. He’ll probably forget about you in a day or two.

He doesn't.

He saw you again a week later. Same place. Same hour. Different clothes and different book.

You must’ve loved reading in that spot, he figures to himself. Phainon never thought about believing in fates, it sounds outlandish to him — but to think he saw you again. This has to mean something, right? You were becoming a pattern, after all.

Something within him snapped and he found himself walking up to you.

“Excuse me,” There's a soft smile plastered on his face. This feels like high school — like he’s an eighth grader getting his first crush. He made sure to keep a safe distance away from you, ears reddened and eyes twinkling. “I’ve been trying to figure out if I’d regret not asking this but — I don't know your name. And I’d like to know it. And maybe your socials too if that's alright.”

You’re so breathtaking, he added at the back of his mind as he continued smiling politely. Does he look presentable now? You don't find him weird, right? Did he even say the words right?

Phainon realizes there's no charm to his words. No practiced flattery. Just blatant honesty that was laid bare in the way his gaze held you, unwavering and hopeful.

Tuesday’s starting to become his favorite day of the week.