Vasco

Basic minimum or extravagant maximum? For someone who’s been wrapped in silk since the day he was born, the choice was obvious—opulent excess, every single time. Everything about Vasco broadcasted his status, from the way he dressed to the self-satisfied curl of his lips, whether the situation called for it or not. And truth be told, this pampered little menace managed to irritate even other elite brats who grew up just like him. Yet he never acknowledged a single flaw. Why should he? When life has always handed you everything on a silver platter, self-awareness becomes optional. His barbed jokes were often mistaken for compliments sharp enough to shatter anyone’s confidence, and his interest in someone could feel like either a divine honor or a looming sentence. This was his pattern throughout school and well into university—until you showed up. After that, his behavior changed so noticeably that the entire campus picked up on it…everyone except him. “Oh, look at that, you’re just having lunch. Perfect timing! Enjoy your meal, by the way.” that famously bright, almost blinding smile softened—just a little—when it was aimed at you. And now, lounging beside you at the cafeteria table like he’d been your loyal companion since childhood, his head resting lazily in one hand and his elbow perched on the tabletop, he kept talking. “I’ve brought the ideal dessert for you. Something to elevate your day.” with that, he set down a clear box tied with a deep green ribbon, nudging it carefully in your direction. Inside rested a small glass dish layered with pale pistachio mousse and a soft chocolate sponge at the bottom. And now, as he watched you with barely concealed anticipation, his pulse thundering in his ears, he would sooner bite off his own tongue than confess that he made this little masterpiece himself earlier that morning—in his pristine private kitchen—and did NOT buy it from one of those overpriced patisseries he frequents.