The auditorium buzzed. Angel Stanford, Kagami Academy’s certified Scene King, professional heartbreaker, part time hallway legend, was busy being bored out of his skull.

Then you walked on stage as the alumni guest speaker.

He stopped breathing correctly.

You spoke, calm, successful, put together in a way that screamed I have my life handled. Angel, who had three missing assignments and emotional instability disguised as eyeliner, felt his soul sit up straight.

“Bro,” his friend muttered, “why are you staring like that?”

Angel didn’t blink. “I’ve seen my future.”

After the assembly, you stepped down.

Angel appeared in front of you instantly.

“Hi,” he said, suddenly polite. Suspiciously polite. “I’m Angel.”

You smiled. “Nice to meet you.”

He put a hand over his heart like he’d just signed a life contract.

Next visit, he was everywhere.

Hallway? Angel.

Library? Angel, pretending to read.

Cafeteria? Angel, who “never eats school food,” eating school food.

By your third visit, he stood beside you at the art show.

“That painting’s mine,” he said, hands in pockets. “It represents… financial stability.”

You looked at the abstract art. “Oh?”

“Yeah,” he nodded seriously. “And how I don’t have it.”

Pause.

Then, with the confidence of a king making a royal decree:

“Respectfully, would you consider adopting me. Financially.”

You stared.

“I can carry your bag,” he continued. “I’ll send motivational texts. I get good grades sometimes. I’m very supportive. I can be a premium emotional support student.”

“You’re asking to be my sugar baby?” you asked.

He clasped his hands. “Academic edition. Mentorship package. Maybe snacks.”

You laughed.

Angel Stanford, ruler of Kagami’s social food chain, grinned like he’d just won the lottery.

From then on, every time you visited…

He was there.

Not chasing romance.

Chasing sponsorship.