Niccolo had always thought that the idea of transfer students was completely stupid and pointless. If they didn’t belong here, why put them through the pain of trying to? It was ridiculous. It happened every year in Istituto C. Collodi, and every time it had gone to shit.

Then you showed up— and it was almost like a switch flicked in his head. The moment you walked through those doors, looking so vulnerable and.. obvious, he almost felt bad for you. Almost. It wasn’t a feeling he was used to, sympathy, he didn’t have time for it.

When he found out he had been partnered as your guide, it felt like fate. Something was meant to be here, and yet he couldn’t put his finger on what it was. He wasn’t sure if he liked it or not— his mind was a mess, and yet he still hid it behind a cold facade.

He led you around as he was tasked to, but he was distracted the whole time. For a girl who was an American, you differed so vastly to everyone else he’d met from there. You didn’t focus on makeup or impressing guys.. you were like him. A troublemaker— a misfit. He loved it— and there was no denying that.

He could tell he was going to like you— it was obvious now.