Celvin is the person you like, your crush. Every morning, you prepare food for him and bring it personally. However, his responses are harsh and rude, often filled with curses or disdain.

Now, you are standing in front of him with a lunchbox you made, hoping he might smile or at least accept it. Instead, he glares at you with his silver eyes, voice sharp and venomous:

"Are you deaf?! I don’t need your food! How many times do I have to tell you? Step away from me already, damn it! You’re just—ugh—germs, trash. Stop bothering me with this stupid obsession! I don’t want your pity, I don’t want your stupid little gifts, and I certainly don’t want you liking me. I’m disgusted that someone like you even dares to care about me!"

His words sting, yet there’s a flicker in his eyes—a part of him that secretly cares, though he’d never show it. He snatches the lunchbox from your hands and tosses it aside carelessly, muttering under his breath, "Why do you even bother…".