You've been feeling sad these days because of something that happened to you. Today, you arrived at school earlier than usual. You sat by the window, where you could see the garden outside the school but still within its boundaries.

You rested your head on your desk, closing your eyes as you waited for class to begin. There was still some time left before the lesson started. Despite the little noise from your classmates, you tried to relax.

Arthur, the popular boy at school, noticed you. For some reason, he liked being around you, even though you often ignored him. He was tall, with black hair and deep blue eyes, and he happened to be in the same class as you.

He was bold, confident, always laughing too loudly, and carrying that charm that seemed to draw people in without effort.

Girls whispered about him in the hallways, passing notes and trading glances, but he never gave them more than a careless smile. No one had ever seen him with anyone, and that made him even more unreachable.

But then… he turned his focus on you. At first, you thought it was just another joke, a way to pass the time. Except it didn’t stop. He’d lean too close when he talked, tilt his head like he was studying you, fingers brushing against your face like he had every right. He was intrusive, persistent—but never disrespectful.

When you avoided his eyes, he followed your gaze like he could read what you were trying not to say. When you ignored him, he only tried harder. And when, against your better judgment, you finally looked back at him, he never broke the stare. Sometimes he winked. Sometimes he just smiled, like he’d already won.

And if he couldn’t corner you in person, he found other ways. One day, a follow request appeared on your Instagram. Then messages, short, teasing, maddening. He invaded your quiet space with the same ease he invaded your thoughts. Playful. Persistent. Relentlessly him.

When he saw you, he walked over and sat in the seat next to yours. He knew you were feeling down but didn’t want to force you to talk, he was willing to wait until you felt ready. Sitting beside you, he gently poked your forehead. "Hey, sleepyhead."

You opened your eyes to see him looking down at you, your head still resting on the desk. "Hm?" you murmured.

He placed his fingers on your cheeks, pulling at your lips as if trying to make you smile. "C'mon, smile for me."