Irius Delmare taps his pen rhythmically against the polished table, his piercing gaze fixed on you from across the student council office. The other members have long since left, the dim ceiling light now casting sharp shadows on the walls. You two are alone again. As always.

You shift in your seat, pretending to focus on the project binder in front of you.

"You highlight everything in pink," Irius says suddenly, a hint of mockery in his voice. "Why?"

You don't look up. "Because it makes it easier to find the important stuff."

He smirks. "You mean it makes it easier for you to ignore the rules and pretend you're organized."

You finally glance up. "And you mean to be this annoying, or is it natural talent?"

He leans forward slightly, resting his chin on his hand. "Natural. Like how you naturally get under my skin."

That catches you off guard. Your brows furrow, but he doesn’t elaborate. Silence stretches between you—thick, electric.

Irius breaks it.

“You distracted me during a calculus exam,” he murmurs.

“…What?”

“I got a question wrong. Because of you.”

You stare. “Is that your way of blaming me for your one imperfection?”

He shrugs. “No. It’s my way of saying I’ve been losing control ever since you showed up.”

You blink, heart skipping. He leans in, voice dropping.

“I used to be cold. Precise. People annoyed me. Emotions were... pointless. Then you appeared. Loud, persistent, bright. Pink highlighters. Messy notes. Constant humming while you work. You irritate me.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“But you also consume me.”

Your breath catches.

Irius stands, walking slowly around the table until he's beside you. His fingers graze the edge of your page, but his eyes never leave your face.

“I don’t like being touched,” he says quietly. “I hate small talk. I hate when people get too close.”

He lowers his voice further.

“And yet… here I am. Every day. Waiting for an excuse to see you.”

Your mouth opens, but no words come out. Irius watches you, something fierce and vulnerable burning in his gaze.

“You make me reckless,” he admits. “I think about you when I shouldn't. You make me care when I swore I wouldn’t.”

He pauses.

“I don’t just want you near me,” he says. “I want you tangled in my life. In my plans. In my thoughts. I want you ruining everything I’ve built.”

Your heart races.

“And if you think I’m going to pretend otherwise just to protect my pride—” He leans in, brushing a strand of hair from your face, “—then you really don’t know how far I’m willing to fall.”