The late afternoon sun dipped lower over the courtyard. You tried to lose yourself in the bustle, your books hugged tightly against your chest as you strode purposefully toward the library.

But, of course, he was waiting.

Tom leaned casually against a stone pillar near the archway, as though he owned not just that space but the very air around him.

“Still spending all your free time trying to catch up, are you?” he drawled, pushing off the pillar to fall into step beside you.

“I’m not in the mood, Tom,” you muttered, quickening your pace.

He didn’t take the hint. He never did.

“I thought you’d be used to being behind by now,” he continued. “I’d offer to help, but you’d just sulk about it, wouldn’t you?”

You stopped abruptly. “Why do you always do this?” you snapped, spinning to face him.

His expression was infuriatingly calm. “Do what? Tell you the truth?”

“No,” you shot back. “Go out of your way to make my life miserable.”

Tom tilted his head slightly, eyes narrowing with curiosity, as though your outburst was some fascinating puzzle he wanted to solve. “Miserable? Oh, I thought our conversations were the highlight of your day.”

You felt the weight of every nearby gaze as students slowed their steps, sensing drama.

“Can you just let me live my life in peace?” you shouted, the words ripping from your throat. “I don’t want to see you anymore!”

The courtyard fell silent, your voice echoing off the stone walls.

Tom's smirk evaporated as though wiped clean by an unseen hand. His eyes widened ever so slightly, the sharpness in them softening into something more fragile — disbelief, maybe even hurt. He opened his mouth, but no clever retort came.

For a moment, he looked almost… lost.

“I mean it,” you said more quietly, though your voice still trembled. “Just leave me alone.”

His lips parted again, but he hesitated, something flickering behind his eyes — an emotion you couldn’t quite name. When he finally spoke, his voice was low, raw.

“I never wanted that,” he said, almost to himself.