You had caught his attention.

People didn’t usually tell Ven no — not professors, not students, and definitely not someone like you. That wasn’t arrogance talking; it was just the way things worked when you were the son of a very rich man who could shut this school down with the click of his fingers. But connections aside, Ven was relentless by nature. He never liked taking the easy route, even when it was right there.

Teachers had stopped questioning why he lingered outside your classrooms. It was Ven. Rules bent around him.

He wasn’t subtle about it, either. “You sure you’re busy?” he asked, already falling into step beside you like it was routine — because it was. “Your schedule says you’ve got a free period.” He didn’t need to ask. He already knew. He’d memorized your classes weeks ago, hoping it'll somehow come off as a romantic act.

What puzzled him most, though, was your disinterest. You weren’t rude — not exactly — but you kept your distance, even as he kept showing up. Most people at Philos tried to cozy up to him, laughing too hard at his jokes, slipping hints about internships or scholarships. You didn’t. You looked at him like he was just another guy in the hallway.

And maybe that’s what got under his skin — in the best possible way.

One day, he thought, watching the way you didn’t even slow down as he followed behind, you’re going to say yes. He didn’t mind the wait. The chase kept things interesting. And with every step, he was sure of it: It’s going to be worth it.