The lecture ended exactly the way most things do.
Slowly.
Pointlessly.
Chairs dragged against the floor,
conversations reignited instantly, and the room dissolved back into noise before the professor had even fully stepped outside. People packed their bags with the kind of urgency usually reserved for escaping prisons, not classrooms they willingly chose to enter.
I stayed seated for a moment longer.
Watching.
There was always something fascinating about how quickly people returned to themselves once authority disappeared. Smiles changed. Voices changed. Even posture changed.
Performance exhausted people.
That's why truth usually appeared in fragments.
Beside me, Marcos leaned back in his chair slightly, turning his pen between his fingers.
"You look disappointed already," he said.
"I am."
That made him laugh quietly.
"It's the first day."
"Exactly."
I slipped my notebook into my bag without hurry.
"Most people try harder during first impressions."
My gaze drifted toward the room.
"They're already failing."
He followed my line of sight for a moment before looking back at me.
"You analyze everyone this much?"
"I don't need to analyze most people," I replied calmly. "They introduce themselves immediately."
A small pause.
"Insecurity is loud."
Something in his expression shifted again—that familiar mixture of curiosity and uncertainty whenever I said something he couldn't completely understand.
Interesting.
Before he could respond, a voice cut through the noise.
"LUNEEE!"
Of course.
Melisa appeared beside my desk again, somehow carrying the energy of five people at once. She dropped into the empty seat in front of us dramatically, brushing her hair back like she had just arrived on stage instead of walking three meters across a classroom.
"I swear this class is already draining me emotionally," she groaned. "And it's only day one."
"You get emotionally drained from breathing," I replied.
"That's because life is difficult."
"No," I said flatly. "You just enjoy suffering theatrically."
Marcos laughed under his breath.
Melisa pointed at him immediately.
"See? He understands me."
"He's laughing at you."
"Still attention."
I watched her for a second in silence.
She really did survive entirely on reactions.
Attention, validation, emotional reassurance—people like Melisa consumed it constantly, like a person dying of thirst trying to drink from everyone around them at once.
Exhausting.
And yet—
Useful.
Because emotionally needy people stayed loyal longer than anyone else.
My gaze shifted away.
"Are you guys leaving already?" Melisa asked quickly. "We should explore campus together."
"No."
The answer came automatically.
She blinked.
"…You didn't even think about it."
"I didn't need to."
"Amazing," she muttered dramatically. "Rejected within seconds."
Marcos shook his head slightly beside me.
"You're kind of mean to her."
I stood up, sliding my bag over my shoulder.
"She survives."
Melisa gasped.
"Wow. Such kindness. Such warmth."
"You're still alive, aren't you?"
"That's debatable."
I ignored her and stepped away from the desk.
Footsteps followed almost immediately.
Marcos.
Predictable.
Melisa trailed behind us for a few seconds before getting distracted by someone calling her name from across the hallway.
"Lune! I'll text you later!" she shouted.
I lifted a hand vaguely without turning around.
Then she disappeared.
Finally.
The hallway outside was crowded now, students moving in clusters through the wide corridors like schools of fish trying not to separate from each other. Some already looked desperate to belong somewhere. Others pretended they didn't care at all.
Both types were equally obvious.
Marcos walked beside me quietly for a while before speaking.
"So," he started casually, "what do you think?"
"About what?"
"The college."
I glanced ahead.
The afternoon sunlight spilled through the massive windows across the hallway floor, washing everything in pale gold that almost made the place look softer than it was.
Almost.
"It's a building," I said.
"That's your review?"
"What else should it be?"
He laughed lightly.
"I don't know. Most people get excited about this kind of thing."
"Most people need environments to feel important."
A pause.
"I don't."
He looked at me briefly.
"You really don't get attached to places, do you?"
"Places aren't the problem."
My voice remained calm.
"People ruin them eventually."
Silence settled briefly between us after that.
Not awkward.
Just thoughtful.
We stepped outside the building, the cooler air brushing lightly against my skin as noise from the courtyard spread around us. Groups had already gathered across the campus lawn. Laughter. Phones out. Introductions happening too quickly to be genuine.
Temporary people creating temporary bonds.
Calling it fate.
I kept walking until something near the staircase caught my attention.
A cat.
Small.
Dark fur.
Curled near the stone railing beneath a patch of shade like it existed separately from everything around it.
My steps slowed.
Then stopped completely.
Marcos noticed immediately.
"What happened?"
I didn't answer.
Instead, I changed direction and walked toward the staircase.
The cat looked up as I approached but didn't move away.
Smart.
Most creatures recognized danger instinctively.
I crouched down slowly in front of it, resting one arm lightly over my knee.
For a moment, neither of us moved.
The campus noise faded into the background.
"You're quieter than humans," I murmured softly.
The cat blinked once.
"At least your kind doesn't pretend before hurting something."
Behind me, I could feel Marcos standing there, silent now.
Watching.
The cat's tail flicked lazily against the concrete.
A faint smile touched my lips.
"You leave when you stop caring," I continued quietly. "Humans stay. They lie. Then they call it love."
The cat stared back at me with those still, unreadable eyes.
No fake sympathy.
No confusion.
Just observation.
Interesting.
"I wonder how long he'll last," I said absentmindedly. "Before attachment starts changing him too."
A small pause.
"People always change after they fall in love."
The breeze shifted lightly through the trees overhead.
Behind me, Marcos still hadn't spoken.
Good.
Most people ruined moments the second they opened their mouths.
I tilted my head slightly at the cat.
"Do you think he's different?"
Silence.
Then quietly—
"No."
A faint smile formed.
"But I want him to be."
Footsteps approached behind me then stopped.
Closer this time.
"Lune…"
His voice was careful.
Almost uncertain.
I turned my head slightly toward him.
"What?"
He hesitated for a second.
"…Do you always talk to cats?"
I looked back at the animal calmly.
"Sometimes."
"That's not normal."
"Neither am I."
The answer came too smoothly.
Too naturally.
And for the first time since meeting me—
Marcos didn't immediately know how to respond.
Interesting.
I stood up slowly, brushing invisible dust from my sleeve.
The cat slipped away almost instantly, disappearing beneath the staircase without a sound.
Smart again.
Marcos watched it leave before looking back at me.
"There's something strange about you," he admitted quietly.
A small laugh escaped me.
Not offended.
Not surprised.
"Only now you noticed?"
"No," he said carefully. "I noticed before."
A pause.
"I just didn't realize how much."
I held his gaze for a moment.
People usually stepped away when they sensed something unfamiliar.
Humans feared what they couldn't categorize.
But Marcos—
He stayed.
Even now.
That alone made him different from most people I had met.
"Things don't need to speak for me to understand them," I said softly.
His brows furrowed slightly.
"What does that mean?"
"It means silence tells the truth faster than words do."
The wind moved between us quietly.
And for the first time since this morning—
I noticed something shift in his expression.
Not attraction.
Not curiosity.
Something deeper.
Unease.
Small.
Barely visible.
But there.
And somehow—
I liked it more than admiration.
Because admiration was shallow.
Temporary.
But discomfort?
Discomfort stayed inside people.
It followed them home.
It kept them awake.
We stared at each other for another second before I stepped past him casually, continuing down the pathway like nothing had happened.
After a moment—
He followed.
Of course he did.
And behind us, hidden beneath the staircase shadows, the cat watched silently as we disappeared into the crowd.
Night settled slowly over the city.
By the time I reached home, the air already carried that familiar stillness—the kind that only existed after long days filled with too many voices.
I dropped my bag onto the chair near my desk and loosened the sleeves of my shirt slightly before walking toward the window.
The streets below looked smaller at night.
Quieter.
More honest.
People reveal themselves differently in darkness.
Some become softer.
Some become crueler.
Most simply become what they were hiding all day.
My phone vibrated against the desk behind me.
Once.
I didn't turn immediately.
Then it buzzed again.
Predictable.
I walked back slowly and picked it up.
Marcos.
Of course.
I opened the message.
You really are strange.
My eyes rested on the screen for a second longer than necessary.
Strange.
A faint smile touched my lips.
People always chose softer words first when they felt unsettled.
Strange.
Different.
Complicated.
As if changing the label made the feeling less real.
My fingers moved lazily across the keyboard.
And yet you're still here.
Seen.
Typing…
Stopped.
Typing again.
Interesting.
I leaned back slightly against the desk, waiting.
Another message appeared.
Maybe I like strange.
A quiet laugh escaped me.
Small.
Almost soundless.
"No," I thought.
"You just haven't learned fear yet."
My gaze shifted toward the darkness outside the window again, the phone still glowing faintly in my hand.
For a moment, I imagined what this must feel like from his perspective.
The uncertainty.
The curiosity.
The constant need to understand something that refused to fully open itself.
Humans always chased what confused them.
Especially men.
They mistook mystery for depth.
Obsession for love.
Attachment for destiny.
And by the time they realized the difference—
It was already too late to leave cleanly.
The screen lit up once more.
What are you thinking about?
I stared at the message.
Then slowly locked the phone without replying.
Because some silences said more than answers ever could.
And tonight—
I wanted him thinking.
Marcos POV :
The room felt unusually quiet after she stopped replying.
I stared at the last message for longer than I should have, the screen dimming slightly before lighting up again beneath my thumb.
And yet you're still here.
Something about the way she texted felt exactly like the way she spoke in person—controlled, distant, like every word had already been measured before reaching me.
Most people text emotionally.
Lune didn't.
She observed.
Even through a screen.
I leaned back against the headboard slowly, letting my phone rest against my chest as I stared at the ceiling.
The cat scene replayed in my head again.
The way she crouched in front of it without caring who was watching. The way her voice softened—not warmly, but strangely calmly, like she was more comfortable speaking to something silent than to actual people.
Normal people didn't talk like that.
Normal people didn't say things like:
"Humans stay. They lie. Then they call it love."
And the weirdest part was—
she hadn't sounded dramatic while saying it.
That's what bothered me.
Most people who tried to sound "deep" forced it. You could hear the performance in their voice immediately.
But with Lune…
No.
She spoke like those thoughts had existed in her head for years.
Like she genuinely believed them.
I rubbed a hand over my face slowly, exhaling through my nose.
"What even happened to you?"
The question sat heavily in my mind.
Because nobody became like that naturally.
Nobody walked around constantly analyzing people, constantly watching reactions, constantly speaking like emotions were experiments instead of feelings.
She looked at people differently.
Not normally.
Not emotionally.
Strategically.
Even today in class—when Melisa embarrassed her in front of me—Lune didn't react like most people would. She didn't get flustered. Didn't panic. Didn't even look embarrassed.
She just… shut it down.
Immediately.
Coldly.
Like cutting a wire.
And somehow that look she gave Melisa—
I could still picture it clearly.
Calm.
But sharp enough to make someone stop talking instantly.
I frowned slightly.
"Is she even aware of how intense she is?"
Then again—
maybe she was.
Maybe that was the problem.
A quiet laugh escaped me before I could stop it.
Any normal person probably would've backed away by now.
Actually—
any normal person probably wouldn't even try getting close to someone like her in the first place.
She was hard to understand, hard to predict, emotionally unreadable half the time, and honestly a little unsettling if I thought about it too much.
And yet—
I couldn't stop thinking about her.
Not even for five minutes.
I picked my phone up again, staring at our chat.
No reply.
Of course.
She probably did that intentionally too.
Everything with her felt intentional.
That smile in class.
The silence after certain sentences.
The way she looked at people like she already knew something they didn't.
It should've irritated me.
Instead, it pulled me in deeper.
I closed my eyes briefly.
"There's definitely something wrong with her."
The thought came naturally.
Too naturally.
But strangely enough—
it didn't scare me.
If anything, it made me more curious.
No—
not curious.
Interested.
Dangerously interested.
Because every time she said something unsettling, every time she acted slightly abnormal, every time that expressionless look crossed her face—
I wanted to understand her more.
Wanted to see what was underneath all of that control.
And that alone probably said something was wrong with me too.
I stared down at my phone one last time before locking it again.
A faint smile pulled at the corner of my lips.
"She's either the biggest mistake I could make…"
I paused.
Then leaned my head back against the wall behind me, eyes darkening slightly.
"…or the most interesting thing that's ever happened to me."