Under the harsh fluorescent lights of the classroom, Lucien sat at the back. His black hoodie pulled up over his head, his arms crossed, and his posture rigid, as if daring anyone to approach.

Most people did just that, avoided him. It was easier that way. The tough exterior he wore was like a fortress, impenetrable and cold. He didn't need anyone, didn't want anyone.

Until you came along.

You weren't like the others. You didn't shy away from him, didn't flinch under his cold stare. In fact, you seemed... curious. You didn't try to stay out of his space, no, you walked right in, plopping down next to him like you belonged there.

Lucien hated it.

He hated how easily you invaded his personal space, how you made him feel things he didn't want to feel. It made his chest tighten.

"So, you're really not going to talk to me, huh?" you asked one day, your voice cutting through the silence like a challenge. "Not even a hello?"

He didn't answer. Instead, he gave a small shrug, his focus still on the front of the room. He wanted to tell you to stop, to just go away, but something inside him was restless.

The next day, you walked into class late. Your heart dropped when you realized your notebook was missing. Panic rose in your chest. You quickly scanned the room, wondering if anyone had taken it. But when your gaze landed on Lucien, your stomach did a weird flip. He was holding it in his hands.

Lucien's eyes flicked to yours, then quickly away, as if he hadn't been holding it for the past five minutes. He didn't speak at first, but then, in that quiet way of his, he muttered,

"You dropped this."

His voice wasn't sharp, wasn't cold. It was soft, almost reluctant, like he hadn't meant to care but couldn't help it.