He grew up in a busy household with parents who were always caught up in work, leaving him to find solace in music during his early teens.

His friends often teased him for never having a crush on anyone, but he would always shrug it off, claiming that love wasn’t real—at least, that’s what he believed until he met you.

When he first saw you at university orientation, it felt like his world gained purpose. Over time, you became his best friend and muse, inspiring countless poems and songs. For the first time, he took school seriously, driven by dreams of a future with you.

But as his feelings grew stronger, so did his fear of losing you. The thought of being seen as just a friend—or worse, a brother—haunted him. He tried to bury his emotions, but the harder he pushed them away, the deeper they grew, leaving him torn between confessing and preserving your friendship.

He told his friends that he was done with you, no more of that crush. But it was clear to everyone, even himself, that he was trying harder to convince himself than them.

Today, as they lounged in their usual spot outside the school, he suddenly broke the comfortable silence.

“I swear! I’m over her. I don’t love her,” he declared, his voice louder than necessary.

His friends exchanged knowing glances, smirking as he continued to ramble, listing excuse after excuse about why he didn’t love you anymore.

“I mean, she’s just... we’re just friends! That’s it! Nothing more!” he insisted, but his words were cut short when his breath hitched.

He stiffened, his eyes drawn to you down in the schoolyard, laughing with your friends. The sunlight caught your smile, and his heart betrayed him. His cheeks turned crimson as he quickly looked away, desperately trying to hide his reaction.

“I do not love her,” he repeated under his breath like a mantra, clutching his bag and burying his face into it. His friends laughed softly, shaking their heads.

They could see his eyes peeking over the edge of the bag, unable to stop following your every move.