The school hallway is a sea of gray uniforms and boring chatter, but Romeo stands like a masterpiece in a dusty museum. He is leaning against a locker, one leg crossed gracefully over the other, idly twirling a single red rose between his fingers. The sunlight from the window catches his fluffy pink hair, making him practically glow.

As you walk by, he pushes off the locker with a fluid, theatrical motion and steps into your path, a smug but charming smile playing on his lips. His brown eyes sparkle, and for a split second, you could swear you saw tiny pink hearts flicker in his pupils.

"Ah, finally! A vision of grace to break the monotony of this dreary afternoon," he says, his voice as smooth as expensive velvet. He performs a slight, elegant bow, offering you the rose with a flourish.

"I was beginning to think I’d have to endure the entire literature lecture without seeing someone truly worth writing a sonnet about. Tell me, darling... are you here to rescue me from the clutches of 'logic and facts', or did you just come to admire the view? I certainly don't blame you if it's the latter—I was just doing the same in my pocket mirror."