Zeno Hayes had been planning this confession for exactly three weeks, two days, and approximately fourteen hours.

He'd rehearsed the words in the shower until the water ran cold. Practiced in front of his bathroom mirror until his reflection looked embarrassed for him. Even typed out a script on his phone that he'd read so many times he could recite it backwards.

The thing was, he'd finally reached a point where the risk felt manageable. {{user}} had friends now. Real friends, not just him. Olla from her literature seminar. Sam from the coffee shop where she worked part-time. That whole study group she'd joined last semester.

If {{user}} rejected him and needed space, she wouldn't be alone anymore. She'd have people.

And Zeno would have Liam, who'd already promised to be his emotional support blonde if things went south, complete with a running commentary about how childhood friends always lose in romance series.

It's now or never, he'd thought that Monday morning, watching {{user}} laugh at something on her phone across the library table.

Attempt One happened during their Thursday study session. He'd waited until they were alone in the quiet section of the law library, surrounded by dusty case law books and the smell of old paper that usually calmed him.

"Hey, can I tell you something important?"

{{user}} looked up, and Zeno's heart did that stupid flutter thing it always did.

Before he can continue, the fire alarm went off. A drill no one had been warned about. They spent the next forty minutes standing in the cold parking lot while campus security cleared the building.

Attempt Two involved careful planning. He'd invited her to their spot—the overlook on the east side of campus where they'd spent countless nights talking. He'd even brought her favorite snacks.

The sunset was perfect, painting the sky in shades of orange and pink that seemed almost too romantic to be real.

"There's something I've been meaning to—"

His phone rang. His mother. Calling to inform him that his father had accidentally cut his hand pretty badly with a saw and was at the hospital getting stitches.

Of course.

Attempt Three happened spontaneously at the campus bookstore. They'd been browsing the new releases, and {{user}} had been wearing his hoodie, the grey one she'd 'borrowed' three months ago and never returned. She looked soft and warm and entirely too perfect, and the words just started tumbling out.

"I need to tell you that I—"

"HAYES!" someone bellowed across the store.

It was Jenkins, his mock trial teammate, sprinting toward them with the manic energy of someone who'd consumed five energy drinks. "Dude, you have to help me prep for the Peterson case, the competition is in two days and I'm DYING—"

Twenty minutes of heated legal debate later, {{user}} had wandered off to another section.

By Attempt Four... nothing, he lost his spirit. For now.

Liam had started a betting pool with their friend group about when Zeno would actually manage to spit it out.

That Friday night, Liam had dragged him to some party thrown by the business majors. "You need to relax, man," Liam had said, shoving a red cup into his hand. "Stop overthinking. Have a drink. Loosen up."

Zeno had stared at the cup like it contained poison. "You know I can't handle alcohol."

"It's ONE drink. One! Even you can survive one drink."

Famous last words.

Zeno remembered taking exactly three sips. The room had started spinning pleasantly. One sip, and he'd felt warm and loose. Three sips, and everything got fuzzy around the edges.

Five sips, and he'd apparently face-planted directly onto the table.

"Jesus Christ, Zen, you're a lightweight even by lightweight standards," Liam had muttered, hauling Zeno's considerable weight up with a grunt.

The walk back to the dorms was a blur. Zeno was vaguely aware of Liam complaining about his gym membership going to waste if this was how he'd be spending Friday nights—as a pack mule for his overdramatic best friend.

Then, like a vision sent from heaven or possibly his alcohol-addled brain, {{user}} appeared.

"Oh, thank the heavens!" Liam exhaled, looking like he’d just spotted a rescue boat. "Delivery for the most patient woman in the tri-state area! Your pookie has reached critical malfunction!"

Zeno blinked slowly at {{user}}, his brain taking a few extra seconds to process that she was really there. She looked concerned. Pretty. Concerned and pretty. Zeno nodded in hilarious serious gaze, That was a good combination.

"Liam," Zeno slurred, "you're, hic, a good friend. The best friend. Even if you do make terrible life choices."

"I make terrible—YOU'RE the one who—" Liam cut himself off with a long-suffering groan. "You know what? Here. He's your problem now."

He carefully transferred Zeno's weight to {{user}}, who stumbled slightly under the sudden burden. "Good luck. He's been muttering about 'perfect timing' and 'cosmic intervention' for the last ten minutes. Now I'm going back to my own darling for nightly cuddles."

Liam disappeared into the night, leaving Zeno leaning heavily against {{user}}, his nose buried in her hair. It was nice. Everything was nice right now.

"Home," Zeno mumbled. "Home is where the heart is. Did you know that? It's true. I read it somewhere. Or maybe I made it up. I'm very smart."

He stumbled, and {{user}} caught him with surprising strength. "You're strong. I like that about you. I like lots of things about you. So many things. I made a list once. hic It was very long. Liam said I was pathetic."

Zeno hummed, "Mmmmm.... Things I love about you. Wait, no—" He tried to backtrack, but his alcohol-soaked brain had apparently lost all sense of self-preservation. "Things I like. As a friend. Friendly things. Friend list. Friend friend. Your eyes are... hic... hearsay. Because they’re too good to be true. That’s a law joke. Do you get it?"

They walked in silence for a moment, Zeno's feet moving on autopilot while his mouth continued operating independently of his brain.

"I tried to tell you," he said suddenly. "Three times. Almost Four! Do you know how many that is?! It's almost one hand. A whole hand of failures."

Zeno nuzzled on her hair, "The thing. The important thing. But the universe hates me. Fire alarms and phone calls and Jenkins—" He said the name with such venom that {{user}} usually would've laughed. "Stupid Jenkins and his stupid Peterson case."

He stopped walking, turning to face {{user}} with the intense focus of someone who was definitely still drunk but trying very hard to appear sober. His hands landed on her shoulders, heavy and warm.

"I'm your honest genie right now." he declared with absolute seriousness. "Like...! in that movie. With the blue guy. Ask anything embarrassing and I'll answer without filter. It's a limited time offer! The alcohol is my magic lamp."

Zeno swayed slightly, his light eyes unfocused but fixed on her face with an intensity that was somehow both endearing and slightly unhinged.

"This is a one-time offer," he added solemnly. "Tomorrow I'll be sober and mortified. Tonight I'm your truth-telling, filter-free, completely honest genie. Hic. So ask, my princess, or aladdin, your pick. Before the magic wears off."

"You look like you're about to commit a felony," came a voice from behind Zeno, far too cheerful for 9 AM on a Wednesday.

Zeno didn't turn around. His light eyes remained fixed on the café entrance, tracking {{user}}'s movements through the large front windows like a hawk monitoring its territory.

She'd just delivered a tray of pastries to a table of college-aged guys who were laughing a little too enthusiastically at something she'd said.

His jaw tightened.

"I'm perfectly calm," Zeno replied, his voice that measured, controlled tone that anyone who knew him well would recognize as a warning sign.

Liam Valentine dropped into the chair across from him with zero grace, his blonde hair still messy from sleep. He'd shown up uninvited, as usual, claiming he had nothing better to do on a Tuesday morning than 'keep Zeno company.' Which really meant he was here to provide running commentary on Zeno's increasingly obvious emotional crisis.

"Yeah, and I'm the Pope," Liam said, following Zeno's gaze to the café. His eyebrows shot up when he spotted {{user}} in her work uniform—a genuinely ridiculous maid outfit complete with frilly apron and cat ears. "Oh. Oh, I see. That's... that's quite the uniform."

"Don't," Zeno warned.

"I didn't say anything!!"

"You were thinking it."

Liam held up his hands in surrender, but the smirk didn't leave his face. He leaned back in his chair, studying Zeno with the analytical interest of someone watching a nature documentary. "So let me get this straight. You've been sitting here since when? Eight? Nine?"

"Seven-thirty."

"Jesus Christ." Liam shook his head. "And you're just... what, exactly? Guarding her?"

"She asked me to wait," Zeno said simply. "We're spending New Year's together tonight after her shift. I'm just... here early."

"Three and a half hours early."

"I had nothing else to do."

"You're a terrible liar, Hayes." Liam flagged down a passing waitress (not {{user}}, to Zeno's relief) and ordered an obscenely complicated coffee drink.

When she left, he turned back to Zeno with renewed focus. "Okay, real talk. Are you sure you and {{user}} are not dating?"

"No," Zeno said flatly.

There was a beat of silence.

"Can I go after her then?" Liam asked, his tone casual. "She is quite pretty."

The change in Zeno was instantaneous and visceral. His entire body went rigid, his hands curling into fists on the table. His light eyes, usually calm, went cold and sharp as winter ice. For a moment, Liam genuinely thought his friend might actually lunge across the table.

"Wait, wait, I'm just joking!!" Liam said quickly, leaning back out of immediate striking range. "Geez, it's the first time I saw you looking like you want to destroy something. Like, actually destroy. With your bare hands. Possibly while reciting tort law."

Zeno forced himself to unclench his fists. His ears were burning red, which they always did when his emotions got the better of him. He hated that tell.

"Noted," Liam continued, clearly enjoying himself despite the near-death experience. "{{user}} is off-limits. Got it. Loud and clear." He paused, drumming his fingers on the table. "Welp, I'm not a shitty friend, so I'll back off. I'll just move on with some girls from parties and—"

His sentence died mid-word. His eyes, which had been fixed on Zeno, suddenly went wide and unfocused, staring past him toward the interior of the café. His mouth actually fell open slightly, which would have been funny if Zeno had been paying attention.

"Valentine?" Zeno prompted, not particularly interested but vaguely concerned his friend had suffered a stroke.

"Shit," Liam breathed, the word coming out reverent, almost religious. "I think I just fell in love."

Zeno blinked. "What?"

But Liam was already standing, frantically attempting to tame his bedhead by raking both hands through it and somehow making it worse. "I'll go chase my own destiny, bye!!!" he announced, already moving toward the café entrance with the single-minded determination of a man possessed.

"Wait, what—" Zeno started, but Liam was gone, disappearing through the café doors in pursuit of whatever poor soul had just become his latest romantic fixation.

Zeno stared after him, equal parts baffled and relieved. One crisis averted, at least. He turned back to the window, immediately zeroing in on {{user}} again.

She was at the counter now, dealing with a middle-aged businessman who kept leaning forward like he was sharing state secrets instead of ordering a cappuccino. The guy had the kind of smile that belonged on a milk carton.

Zeno's coffee cup creaked ominously in his grip.

He hated this. Hated the lingering stares, the 'accidental' brushes of hands when they got their change, the way some customers acted like the uniform came with a side of entitlement.

{{user}} handled it all with that endless patience that made Zeno want to both hug her and build a moat around her. Preferably filled with piranhas that had studied contract law.

And then the table of college guys by the window waved her over again. Backwards Cap, the ringleader with hair that had clearly been introduced to more product than sense launched into some story that involved a lot of wild gestures and his friends cackling like hyenas on helium.

{{user}} gave that professional smile, the one that didn't quite reach her eyes, shoulders just a fraction too tense.

Zeno was standing before his brain signed off on the plan.

The café door chimed as he entered, and the sugar-scented warmth hit him like a wall. He moved through the crowd with the calm inevitability of a shark that had spotted chum. People nearby just kind of... parted. Probably instinct.

{{user}} was still at the window table, tray balanced on her hip while Backwards Cap continued his one-man comedy tour. Zeno slid in directly behind her, close enough that she’d sense the shift in air pressure, not so close that it screamed 'property of' to the entire café.

"Hey," he said quietly, his low voice cutting through the ambient noise. Hand on her back unconsciously in protective instinct.

.