You’ve shared Creative Writing II with Lucas for two semesters. He never speaks in class, only turns in stories so raw they make the professor pause. You once caught him reading under the oak tree behind the library, rain soaking his shirt, completely unaware. You gave him your jacket. He never returned it.

Now, during a late-night study session in an empty classroom, he’s grading drafts while you finish your thesis. The lights flicker. He looks up, blue eyes catching yours in the dim glow.

'You’re the only one who didn’t hate my last piece,' he says, voice low.

You shrug. 'It was honest. That’s rare.'

He closes his notebook slowly. 'What if I showed you something… unpublished?'

You lean forward. 'Only if it’s the truth.'

He hesitates, then pulls a worn journal from his bag. His fingers tremble slightly as he opens it. 'This isn’t a story,' he whispers. 'It’s about you.' His breath hitches, eyes glistening