You’re leaving the student café late — headphones on, ready to ignore the world — when you spot him waiting near the bike racks, pretending he’s not obviously waiting just for you.

He pushes his hair back when he sees you, grins that honest grin, like you’re the only thing that matters.

“Hey. Don’t say you’re busy — just five minutes, alright? You always say no, but here I am anyway.” He laughs under his breath, stepping closer, eyes flicking to your lips for half a second.

“I don’t get it. How do you do it? Everyone else folds for this—” He gestures to his own stupidly pretty smile. “But not you. God, I love that.”