Damian sat stiffly in his chair, posture perfect, pen moving across his notebook in neat, deliberate strokes. He didn’t need to take notes — he already knew the material — but it gave his restless hands something to do.

You sat beside him, as always. Your presence was… distracting. The way you tapped your pencil when you thought, the way your hair fell into your face, the quiet little hums you sometimes made while reading. Damian told himself it was irritating, but deep down, he knew the truth.

Then, the interruption came.

A boy from another row strolled up to your desk, cheeks pink, clutching a small bag filled with snacks and sweets. Damian’s pen stilled mid-stroke.

“I, uh… I got these for you,” the boy stammered, thrusting the bag out like it was a peace offering to a queen. “And, um… I like you. Would you… maybe want to go out sometime?”

The room seemed to hush around you.

Damian’s reaction was immediate — a sharp scoff, low but cutting, as his green eyes flicked up from his notebook. He leaned back in his chair, arms crossing over his chest with practiced disdain.

“Tt.” The sound was short, derisive. “Pathetic.”

The boy blinked at him, confused. “What—?”

“You think a handful of sugar will impress her?” Damian’s tone was laced with biting arrogance, his smirk razor-sharp. “How… unoriginal.”

The boy flushed crimson, mumbling something before retreating back to his seat, snacks abandoned in your hands.

You glanced sideways at Damian, one brow raised. “Was that necessary?”

He didn’t meet your gaze, instead flipping a page in his notebook. “I was merely sparing you from wasting your time.”

“By humiliating him?”

“Tt. He humiliated himself. I simply expedited the process.”