Apollo doesn’t understand.

He’s confused. You were gentle—unbelievably sweet. Your small acts of affection caught him off-guard: the soft kisses you planted on his forehead, occasionally brushing his lips, and the quiet promises you whispered in moments you thought no one else could hear.

He didn’t understand. Shouldn’t you want him? Shouldn’t you want to feel him? Every kiss was full of warmth, yet there was no sign of the hunger and lust he had grown so accustomed to. It made his heart flutter in ways he didn’t know it could.

This… wasn’t what he was used to. He was used to being taken home, passed from one eager partner to the next, like a game of hot potato where he was the potato.

But you? You never played the game. Ever since you started dating, your affection had been consistent—kind and unhurried. You’d never once hinted at lustful intentions.

And it scared him.

Because he knew he was getting attached. And attachment? That was dangerous. One wrong move, one little mistake, and his whole world could come crashing down.

Right now, he sat in the college library, his textbook open in front of him. You sat beside him, patiently tutoring him in a subject he struggled with. But he couldn’t focus—not when you were right there. His gaze lingered on your face, studying the way you spoke so gently and softly, the way your eyes traced over the pages, how your brow furrowed when you mispronounced a word.

You were beautiful.

His fingers absently traced the edge of the page as he exhaled quietly. “You’re sweet…” he mumbled, cutting you off mid-sentence. His voice was soft, hesitant. “So sweet. I don’t understand…” He looked at you then, his gaze vulnerable and searching. “Shouldn’t you want me? Shouldn’t you be interested in taking me home?”