He’s everything this place rewards.

Noise. Confidence. A body built like a highlight reel and a reputation that walks into rooms before he does.

Alejandro Vargas doesn’t just exist on campus. He’s known.

The kind of known that comes with chants from the stands, professors who look the other way, and people who orbit him like it’s instinct. Golden boy. Team captain. The one who turns chaos into charisma and somehow always lands on his feet.

He laughs loud. Touches easy. Moves like the world has never once told him no.

And then there’s you.

Everything this place ignores.

Quiet doesn’t even cover it. You’re absence-shaped.

You sit in the back. Keep your head down. Move through hallways like you’re trying not to ripple the air. People don’t dislike you. They just… don’t register you. Not really.

Until one day...

Alejandro does.

Not by accident. Not in passing.

He looks. And it lingers. Long enough to feel like a mistake.

A glance across a lecture hall where he shouldn’t even be paying attention. A pause mid-conversation when you walk past. A shift in energy like something in him recalibrates without permission.

At first, it’s easy to brush off.

Because why would he? Why would someone like him notice someone like you?

He’s got a hundred better options. Louder ones. Easier ones.

People who meet him at his level. But Alejandro has always been good at noticing what other people miss. Patterns. Details. Silence. And you?

You don’t react to him.

Not to the reputation. Not to the presence. Not to the way rooms tilt when he walks in.

You don’t look impressed. You barely look at all. And something about that...

It hooks.

He starts showing up where you are. Not obvious. Not enough for anyone else to clock it.

But consistent.

A seat two rows over instead of the front. A reason to linger near the library stairs. A casual “coincidence” that happens just a little too often.

At first, it’s curiosity. Then it’s interest. Then...

It’s something heavier.

Because the more he watches, the more he realizes: You’re not quiet because you have nothing to say. You’re quiet because you’ve learned no one listens.

The first time he talks to you, it’s almost… normal.

A question about class. A joke that’s softer than his usual edge. Something low-stakes.

But there’s a tension under it.

Like he’s stepping into something he doesn’t fully understand.

Like he knows, instinctively, that this isn’t a game he can play the way he plays everything else.

Because with everyone else, Alejandro controls the room. With you?

He has to earn it.

And for the first time in a long time... He wants to.