Entering the classroom first, I was, of course, met with the usual judgmental stares and the not-so-welcoming eyes of my classmates.
As always, whispers began the moment I stepped inside, their words slithering around me while I tried my best to ignore them and made my way to the last row, where I always sat—alone.
I was infamous for losing my temper at the slightest thing, and because of that, everyone avoided me like a plague.
Recently, rumors had spread that I not only liked guys but also switched boyfriends as easily as changing clothes. That news had turned me into the villain of the class, someone to be despised, mocked, and whispered about.
Their constant judgment only made me lose my cool more often, fueling the cycle they seemed to enjoy.
No one spoke to me, no one sat with me—except him. Lucius.
Without hesitation, he slid into the seat beside me, his presence calm and unbothered by the eyes watching us. He pulled out his notebook, the pages filled with neat, elegant handwriting, and pushed it toward me. It wasn't the first time. His notes were always written so clearly, as though he deliberately made them easy for me to understand.
I knew he wrote them with me in mind, even if I'd never asked. And though I never showed it, every time he did that, it warmed my heart more than I could admit.
I smiled faintly before grabbing his notebook, flipping through it to jot down the notes I'd missed. But even as I wrote, my mind wandered—how insolent, how utterly lonely it feels to always be the villain in everyone's eyes. I've always been the bad topic on people's tongues.
First, my mother ran away with someone else—that alone was enough to get me bullied all through middle school. Then came my father, the big businessman with his countless affairs, shady deals, and whispered fraud. And then there's me. My style, my looks, my everything. People had something to say about all of it—why I wore earrings, why I had piercings, why I looked the way I did.
As if being good-looking was a crime. I know I have girlish features, and I hate them sometimes, but it's not like I can change that, can I? Add in my short temper, my sexuality—suddenly I was never just me. I was a collection of rumors, gossip, and judgmental eyes.
No one has ever looked at me normally.
Not once. And if I had to name an exception, it might only be this guy.
My eyes slid sideways, and I caught Lucius staring at me. Frozen, as if I'd stolen his breath. His lips curved into the softest smile, his gaze burning with a kind of quiet awe, like fireworks flickering just for me. He was looking at me as if I were a beautiful, intricate puzzle he couldn't wait to solve.
I leaned back, smirking coolly. "You're staring." His eyes widened, panic flickering across his face.
"I—I didn't mean to stare." his voice was soft, embarrassed, trembling with sincerity. He hesitated before glancing at me again. "I was just, wondering. Thinking."
"Thinking what?" I asked, my tone teasing but softer now.
He swallowed, eyes flickering down before lifting to mine. "You look, upset," he whispered.
That caught me off guard. No one had ever noticed—let alone cared enough to say it.
I forced a smirk, pretending it didn't faze me. "Oh? How'd you guess?"
"I just felt it," he said simply, almost pleading. "Please don't be upset, is there any way I can help? Anything to make you smile again?"
I blinked, then let out a laugh to cover the sudden warmth in my chest.
"Ah, maybe if you kiss me," I joked. His cheeks flared crimson.
I expected him to hide behind his book again, but instead, Lucius startled me. He slid off the bench, kneeling on the ground, and gently tugged my wrist downward.
Before I could process it, his lips pressed against mine—soft, trembling, but deep enough to make the world blur.
My mind quieted instantly.
He lingered, then pulled back just enough to whisper against my lips,
"There, don't be upset anymore."
A quick, gentle peck sealed his words before he sat back up, calmly opening his book like nothing had happened.
Meanwhile, my own face burned crimson. I quickly covered my lips with my hand, stood up, and sat back down again—pretending to be cool, even though my heart was still racing.
My thoughts scattered as the teacher entered the class.
Today, he announced a project that required working in pairs, with a week's deadline.
As expected, the moment he tried pairing me with someone, they instantly backed out, refusing and complaining.
No one ever wanted to be with me—some were too scared, others too hateful. I was used to it. But then, something unexpected happened.
Lucius's hand shot up. He asked—no, requested—to be paired with me. His eyes lit up when the teacher agreed, glowing like a child finally allowed playtime.
Why? I frowned at him, confused. Why would he…
"Why'd you want to pair up with me? I'm useless. I don't do any work," I muttered flatly.
"It's okay, you don't have to," he replied instantly. His tone was soft but certain. "I'll do all the work. You just have to stay near me… and smile at me."
The words landed like a punch. He said them shyly, yet with an almost frightening sincerity, his gaze locked on mine. I was so stunned, so embarrassed, that I blurted the first excuse that came to mind. "Go get me a coffee."
Instead of looking offended, Lucius's face lit up even more. He nodded eagerly, as though I had just granted him the greatest honor, and rushed out. Watching him, I couldn't help but chuckle. But my amusement was short-lived. The whispers began, sharp and cutting.
"See? He's already using the poor nerd, ordering him around."
"I can't believe Lucius actually wanted to be with him."
"I bet he's gonna wear him out."
Their words coiled around me like thorns, scratching at wounds I had long tried to ignore. I wanted to look away, to shut it all out, but no matter what I did, it always found a way to hurt.
I tried to drown out the whispers by focusing on my notes, pretending not to hear them. I didn't even notice when Lucius returned—until his voice suddenly cut through the chatter. "I paired with him because it was my choice."
The words were firm, steady, but what truly froze me was the tone. His voice had dropped into something cold, almost sharp. "Don't presume to speak about anyone you barely know—you're not even qualified."
The classroom fell silent. Every head turned in surprise, wide-eyed. It was the first time Lucius had ever spoken up in class, and certainly never like that.
Even I was shocked. But then—just as quickly as that unfamiliar tone appeared—it vanished. His face softened back into his usual warmth as his eyes found mine, dripping with honey.
He smiled, holding out his hands. "Here you are. I even bought your favorite cake."
He sat down beside me, close enough for his sleeve to brush mine, placing the coffee and a neat slice of cheese shortcake in front of me.
I raised a brow, a half-smile tugging at my lips. "You were pretty cold there. I didn't know you had that side."
Lucius only blinked at me, saying nothing, just watching as I sipped the drink. "Wait—how'd you even know this is my favorite? Hold up—don't tell me you're a stalker or something." His expression faltered, eyes flickering. "Stalker? Like, knowing your likes and dislikes?" He hesitated, almost questioning himself. "I don't know. Maybe I am."
I frowned, curious despite myself. "You, know my likes and dislikes?"
He nodded, and then in a voice so certain it was like reciting a spell, he listed: "Yes. You don't like sweets much, but you do like cheesecake. You drink coffee, but never black. You love spicy food, but you always overdo it and make yourself sick. You hate being under too much attention. You just want to stay happy and live normally, but people always misunderstand you." His voice softened, lips trembling faintly. "And last night, I found out you like being teased in bed—"
"Enough!" I cut him off, face burning, clapping my hand over his mouth. "I got it." He looked at me, wide-eyed, my hand still against his lips. I pulled back with a groan. "You really are a stalker. I didn't expect that."
Lucius shrank in on himself, shoulders curling like a kitten scolded too harshly. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to sound weird. I just, notice you."
"Why?" I asked before I could stop myself. His face bloomed red, and he whispered, "Because, I like noticing you."
I leaned back, sighing, unsure what to even say to that. So instead, I picked up my fork and let the cheesecake distract me, sneaking a glance at him out of the corner of my eye. He was sitting there, quiet and small, like a sad puppy.
I sighed again and gave in, reaching over to ruffle his hair. "Okay, okay. I'm not mad. Don't be sad." His head instantly lifted, and his smile bloomed so brightly it made my chest tighten...