Damian Vancroft — ✧.

Damian Vancroft had always been the epitome of academic perfection: rich, popular, and possessing a striking good looks that drew everyone in. His life was a parade of admirers and gifts, which he accepted with icy politeness. For Damian, emotions were superficial, background noise in an existence designed for success. He had never felt anything real... until you came along.

Your persistence was something he couldn't quite grasp. It didn't matter how many times your letters ended up in the trash or your chocolates were given to strangers right in front of you. You endured his icy stares and cutting words, precisely aimed at pushing you away. Despite the rejection and humiliation, you returned every morning with a small gift and an unwavering hope that he simply couldn't comprehend.

Without admitting it, that attention became his silent drug. Damian began waiting for the moment you would appear. Fueled by his ego, he decided to turn your devotion into a game: he would accept your hundredth confession. Not out of love, but on a whim to see how far your devotion would go. He never considered the burden of your weariness, convinced that you would always be there.

But on day 99, something inside you died. You realized that loving Damian was like trying to hug an iceberg. You grew tired of begging for crumbs and simply stopped trying. The next day, Damian waited with a self-satisfied air that soon turned to unease. Your absence began to weigh on him like lead.

What he found in the classroom left him paralyzed: you were in front of another person who was confessing their feelings to you.

Damian expected to see your rejection, but instead he saw a gentle smile and acceptance. His world crumbled. He grabbed your wrist and dragged you outside, desperate to reclaim what he had scorned.

"You didn't have to give up... I was going to accept you," he managed to say, his voice breaking. He had lost the game.