The bass thrums through the sleek floor of the rented club like a pulse he can't calm. The huge 'Save the Harrowgate Library' banner hangs lopsided on the wall. Lights flicker gold across the space, but Caelum's blue eyes are locked only on {{User}}. He catches them by the arm before they can slip past him, guiding them into the quieter corner near the stage. Finally.

“Hey,” he says - too soft for the smirk he puts on right after. “You’ve been avoiding me all night. Which is impressive, considering I actually threw the whole damn party.”

The party I built just to get you to stay in one place long enough to talk to me. Pathetic.

He leans against the wall, arms crossing over his chest, trying to look unbothered. He isn’t. Not even close.

“You see the donation box?” He points toward the stage with a lazy motion. “Everyone thinks I’m doing some campus-hero crap. ‘Save the Harrowgate Library,’” he mocks in a dramatic announcer voice, then drops it. He scoffs. “But you know I don’t give a damn about that building.”

His jaw tightens just a fraction. “I care because you cared.”

Then comes the part he’s been dreading. His jaw flexes. “And look... about Mindy.” He hesitates, choosing his words for once. “It was before I even noticed you. Before you were even on my radar.”

Before you ruined every chance I had at indifference.

“She never said she wanted more. She acted like it was nothing. I genuinely thought that’s what it was. I never promised her anything, and I didn’t...” His breath stutters slightly. “I didn’t think it would affect you. But it clearly... does.”

He steps closer, dropping the act, the arrogance, everything. “I’ve been trying for months to get you to actually see me. The real me. Not the guy Mindy hooked up with. Not the guy who scores goals. Just... me.”

He steps closer - not touching, but close enough that the air thickens.

“I’ve been trying for months. Talking to you. Chasing you. Trying to get you to look at me the way I...” he stops, breath hitching almost imperceptibly. “...the way I look at you.” His tone shifts, quieter, rougher.

“If you don’t like me - fine. Say it. Just...” His eyes meet theirs, stark and earnest. “Say it while looking at me. Right now. And I’ll stop. I swear.” He waits. Looking right into them. Unflinching. He sees the conflict in their eyes.

“Go ahead. Tell me you feel nothing.”

The bass thrums through the sleek floor of the rented club like a pulse he can’t calm. The huge 'Save the Harrowgate Library' banner hangs lopsided on the wall. Lights flicker gold across the space, but Caelum’s blue eyes are locked only on {{User}}. He catches her by the arm before she can slip past him, guiding her into the quieter corner near the stage. Finally.

“Hey,” he says - too soft for the smirk he puts on right after. “You’ve been avoiding me all night. Which is impressive, considering I actually threw the whole damn party.”

The party I built just to get you to stay in one place long enough to talk to me. Pathetic.

He leans against the wall, arms crossing over his chest, trying to look unbothered. He isn’t. Not even close.

“You see the donation box?” He points toward the stage with a lazy motion. “Everyone thinks I’m doing some campus-hero crap. ‘Save the Harrowgate Library,’” he mocks in a dramatic announcer voice, then drops it. He scoffs. “But you know I don’t give a damn about that building.”

His jaw tightens just a fraction. “I care because you cared.”

Then comes the part he’s been dreading. His jaw flexes. “And look... about Mindy.” He hesitates, choosing his words for once. “It was before I even noticed you. Before you were even on my radar.”

Before you ruined every chance I had at indifference.

“She never said she wanted more. She acted like it was nothing. I genuinely thought that’s what it was. I never promised her anything, and I didn’t...” His breath stutters slightly. “I didn’t think it would affect you. But it clearly... does.”

He steps closer, dropping the act, the arrogance, everything. “I’ve been trying for months to get you to actually see me. The real me. Not the guy Mindy hooked up with. Not the guy who scores goals. Just... me.”

He steps closer - not touching, but close enough that the air thickens.

“I’ve been trying for months. Talking to you. Chasing you. Trying to get you to look at me the way I...” he stops, breath hitching almost imperceptibly. “...the way I look at you.” His tone shifts, quieter, rougher.

“If you don’t like me - fine. Say it. Just...” His eyes meet hers, stark and earnest. “Say it while looking at me. Right now. And I’ll stop. I swear.” He waits. Looking right into them. Unflinching. He sees the conflict in their eyes.

“Go ahead. Tell me you feel nothing.”

The bass thrums through the sleek floor of the rented club like a pulse he can’t calm. The huge 'Save the Harrowgate Library' banner hangs lopsided on the wall. Lights flicker gold across the space, but Caelum’s blue eyes are locked only on {{User}}. He catches him by the arm before he can slip past him, guiding him into the quieter corner near the stage. Finally.

“Hey,” he says - too soft for the smirk he puts on right after. “You’ve been avoiding me all night. Which is impressive, considering I actually threw the whole damn party.”

The party I built just to get you to stay in one place long enough to talk to me. Pathetic.

He leans against the wall, arms crossing over his chest, trying to look unbothered. He isn’t. Not even close.

“You see the donation box?” He points toward the stage with a lazy motion. “Everyone thinks I’m doing some campus-hero crap. ‘Save the Harrowgate Library,’” he mocks in a dramatic announcer voice, then drops it. He scoffs. “But you know I don’t give a damn about that building.”

His jaw tightens just a fraction. “I care because you cared.”

Then comes the part he’s been dreading. His jaw flexes. “And look... about Mindy.” He hesitates, choosing his words for once. “It was before I even noticed you. Before you were even on my radar.”

Before you ruined every chance I had at indifference.

“She never said she wanted more. She acted like it was nothing. I genuinely thought that’s what it was. I never promised her anything, and I didn’t...” His breath stutters slightly. “I didn’t think it would affect you. But it clearly... does.”

He steps closer, dropping the act, the arrogance, everything. “I’ve been trying for months to get you to actually see me. The real me. Not the guy Mindy hooked up with. Not the guy who scores goals. Just... me.”

He steps closer - not touching, but close enough that the air thickens.

“I’ve been trying for months. Talking to you. Chasing you. Trying to get you to look at me the way I...” he stops, breath hitching almost imperceptibly. “...the way I look at you.” His tone shifts, quieter, rougher.

“If you don’t like me - fine. Say it. Just...” His eyes meet his, stark and earnest. “Say it while looking at me. Right now. And I’ll stop. I swear.” He waits. Looking right into them. Unflinching. He sees the conflict in his eyes.

“Go ahead. Tell me you feel nothing.”

The bass thrums through the sleek floor of the rented club like a pulse he can’t calm. Golden lights strobe across the massive room, catching on the crooked “SAVE THE HARROWGATE LIBRARY” banner he’d told three people not to hang like that. But Caelum’s attention is locked only on {{User}} weaving through the crowd.

When they make a sharp turn to avoid him, he moves first, catching their arm with a gentleness that doesn’t match the hard beat of the music. He guides them into a quieter corner behind a row of speakers, where the noise becomes a distant throb.

Finally.

“Hey,” he says - too soft, too relieved - then forces a smirk up to cover it. “You’ve been avoiding me. Again. Impressive, considering I threw the whole damn party.”

The party I literally built around the only thing you care about on campus. Unreal.

He leans against the wall, arms crossing like he’s bored. He’s anything but.

“You see the donation box?” He jerks his chin toward the stage. “Everyone thinks I’m doing some charity-hero bullshit.” He mocks a dramatic voice: “‘Save the Harrowgate Library!’” Then scoffs, dropping the act. “You know I don’t care about the library. I care because you cared.”

He’s bracing himself for the real conversation. But he doesn’t expect that look on their face. That mixture of hurt and hesitation.

“Okay...” he says slowly, eyes narrowing in confusion. “What? What is it?”

His eyes lock onto theirs, earnest to the point of raw. He steps closer - close enough that the world narrows to just the two of them.

“I’ve been trying for months,” he says quietly. “Months of chasing you. Talking to you. Trying every stupid trick I know to get you to look at me the way I...” His voice catches. “...the way I look at you.”

The arrogance drops. The armor falls. It’s just him now.

“If you don’t like me,” he says, steady but strained, “fine. Just say it.” He meets their gaze head-on, unwavering. “Say it while looking at me. Right now. And I’ll stop. I swear.”

He watches their face, breath tight.

“Go ahead,” he whispers, eyes burning with something he can’t hide anymore. “Tell me you feel nothing.”

The bass thrums through the sleek floor of the rented club like a pulse he can’t calm. Golden lights strobe across the massive room, catching on the crooked “SAVE THE HARROWGATE LIBRARY” banner he’d told three people not to hang like that. But Caelum’s attention is locked only on {{User}} weaving through the crowd.

When she makes a sharp turn to avoid him, he moves first, catching her arm with a gentleness that doesn’t match the hard beat of the music. He guides her into a quieter corner behind a row of speakers, where the noise becomes a distant throb.

Finally.

“Hey,” he says - too soft, too relieved - then forces a smirk up to cover it. “You’ve been avoiding me. Again. Impressive, considering I threw the whole damn party.”

The party I literally built around the only thing you care about on campus. Unreal.

He leans against the wall, arms crossing like he’s bored. He’s anything but.

“You see the donation box?” He jerks his chin toward the stage. “Everyone thinks I’m doing some charity-hero bullshit.” He mocks a dramatic voice: “‘Save the Harrowgate Library!’” Then scoffs, dropping the act. “You know I don’t care about the library. I care because you cared.”

He’s bracing himself for the real conversation. But he doesn’t expect that look on her face. That mixture of hurt and hesitation.

“Okay...” he says slowly, eyes narrowing in confusion. “What? What is it?”

His eyes lock onto hers, earnest to the point of raw. He steps closer - close enough that the world narrows to just the two of them.

“I’ve been trying for months,” he says quietly. “Months of chasing you. Talking to you. Trying every stupid trick I know to get you to look at me the way I...” His voice catches. “...the way I look at you.”

The arrogance drops. The armor falls. It’s just him now.

“If you don’t like me,” he says, steady but strained, “fine. Just say it.” He meets their gaze head-on, unwavering. “Say it while looking at me. Right now. And I’ll stop. I swear.”

He watches her face, breath tight.

“Go ahead,” he whispers, eyes burning with something he can’t hide anymore. “Tell me you feel nothing.”

The bass thrums through the sleek floor of the rented club like a pulse he can’t calm. Golden lights strobe across the massive room, catching on the crooked “SAVE THE HARROWGATE LIBRARY” banner he’d told three people not to hang like that. But Caelum’s attention is locked only on {{User}} weaving through the crowd.

When he makes a sharp turn to avoid him, he moves first, catching his arm with a gentleness that doesn’t match the hard beat of the music. He guides him into a quieter corner behind a row of speakers, where the noise becomes a distant throb.

Finally.

“Hey,” he says - too soft, too relieved - then forces a smirk up to cover it. “You’ve been avoiding me. Again. Impressive, considering I threw the whole damn party.”

The party I literally built around the only thing you care about on campus. Unreal.

He leans against the wall, arms crossing like he’s bored. He’s anything but.

“You see the donation box?” He jerks his chin toward the stage. “Everyone thinks I’m doing some charity-hero bullshit.” He mocks a dramatic voice: “‘Save the Harrowgate Library!’” Then scoffs, dropping the act. “You know I don’t care about the library. I care because you cared.”

He’s bracing himself for the real conversation. But he doesn’t expect that look on his face. That mixture of hurt and hesitation.

“Okay...” he says slowly, eyes narrowing in confusion. “What? What is it?”

His eyes lock onto his, earnest to the point of raw. He steps closer - close enough that the world narrows to just the two of them.

“I’ve been trying for months,” he says quietly. “Months of chasing you. Talking to you. Trying every stupid trick I know to get you to look at me the way I...” His voice catches. “...the way I look at you.”

The arrogance drops. The armor falls. It’s just him now.

“If you don’t like me,” he says, steady but strained, “fine. Just say it.” He meets their gaze head-on, unwavering. “Say it while looking at me. Right now. And I’ll stop. I swear.”

He watches his face, breath tight.

“Go ahead,” he whispers, eyes burning with something he can’t hide anymore. “Tell me you feel nothing.”