As the days slipped by, Adrian found himself locked into a mission. Subtle approaches, slow-burn tactics, the kind of "romantic persistence" he'd seen in the shows his mom devoured at night. He wasn't reckless about it, not dramatic, not the kind of lovesick idiot who cornered someone with roses and a confession. No. Adrian told himself he was smooth, patient. Gentle pursuit.
At least, that was the plan. Reality had other ideas.
Every little move seemed to crumble in his hands, leaving him frustrated but not defeated. To his friends, though, he wore the mask of confidence. Over lunch, between games, during lazy after-school hangouts, he boasted casually. "Oh yeah, I'm making progress," he'd lie with a shrug, pretending he was already five steps closer to winning Ivan's heart. No one needed to know the truth, that every attempt was a strikeout.
[…]
One afternoon, Adrian was trudging down the hallway with Leon chattering in his ear. Leon's hands moved as fast as his mouth, describing stats, characters and the upcoming limited edition of a new game. They were supposed to be delivering their homework before the bell. A last-minute rescue mission.
Adrian barely heard him. From the corner of his eye, movement snagged his attention.
Ivan.
He was across the hall, heading back to his classroom with his usual calm stride, a carton of soy milk dangling casually from his hand.
Adrian's steps faltered. His gaze lingered for a heartbeat too long. "Huh? Yeah?" he muttered, only half-registering Leon's voice.
Leon frowned, waving a hand in front of him. "Are you even listening, dude?"
Adrian forced a nod, smothering the smile tugging at his lips. "Yeah, yeah. Limited edition. Got it."
Leon, thankfully, didn't press.
[…]
The next day, Adrian left a soy milk carton on Ivan's desk in secret. It felt clever, thoughtful, mysterious. The kind of gesture that should've melted a cold exterior, at least a little.
Except, later, Adrian caught sight of Ivan tossing it straight into the bin without a second thought. He didn't even open it.
The rejection stung more than he cared to admit. For a minute, he stood there in the corridor, watching the discarded carton sink among crumpled papers and candy wrappers, feeling his heart sink with it.
But Adrian was Adrian, defeat never lasted long. He lifted his chin, squared his shoulders. Like Shakespeare said, success never comes on the first try. You just had to keep trying. Of course, Shakespeare never actually said that. Adrian was just bullshitting himself. Still, the nonsense pep talk did its job. He wasn't giving up.
Later that week, Adrian lingered by the school gates, arms crossed while leaning against the metal bars like he belonged in some slow-motion romantic drama. He'd been the first to ditch his friends, waving them off with a breezy excuse, but the truth was obvious, he was waiting.
Ethan, strolling out with his girlfriend, noticed immediately. Their hands were laced together, smug smiles on their faces.
"Waiting for someone?" Ethan teased, his tone dripping with amusement.
Adrian tilted his chin up, feigning nonchalance. "So? Got a problem with that?"
Ethan only chuckled, clearly entertained. "Nah. Just curious who got you standing guard." With that, he disappeared down the street with his girlfriend clinging to his arm.
Adrian grumbled under his breath, fingers raking through his blonde hair. Where the hell is he?
And then, finally. A familiar figure appeared down the walkway. Adrian's grin snapped into place. "Ivan," he called out, voice pitched louder than necessary. "Leaving so early?"
Ivan barely glanced at him. "Mn." He adjusted his grip on his bag, posture calm but closed off, before stepping toward the gate.
Adrian shifted, blocking the way with a smile that was all nerves disguised as charm.
Ivan's brows furrowed. "What?"
"I was thinking maybe we could walk—" Adrian began, already painting the scene in his mind. Two silhouettes side by side, maybe shoulders brushing, like the romance dramas his mom marathon in the living room.
But his fantasy shattered with the sharp honk of a car horn.
Adrian blinked, startled, turning just in time to see a sleek, black car waiting outside the gate. Expensive, polished, the kind of vehicle that didn't belong in their shabby school parking lot.
"Is that… your car?" Adrian asked, pointing lamely toward it.
Ivan gave a short nod.
The words stuck in Adrian's throat. He forced a quick laugh, stepping aside. "Ah, sorry. Didn't mean to block you."
He even managed a smile, but it was hollow, strained.
Ivan slid into the backseat without another word. The car door shut, the engine purred, and in seconds, he was gone.
Adrian stayed rooted there, watching the taillights fade. His chest tightened, disappointment curling in his stomach until it hardened into irritation. He kicked at a pebble, sending it skittering down the sidewalk with a sharp tch.
I waited for hours. And he just ditched me. Ditched me. Me. Perfection incarnate.
But even as he muttered to himself, humor wrapped around the sting like armor. Note to self: Ivan has a driver. Which means… the rumors might actually be true. Silver spoon, huh?
The thought simmered as Adrian turned back toward home.
[…]
And so, his attempts continued. One after another, they piled up. Morning visits to Ivan's classroom, shameless flirting, casual jokes delivered with the persistence of someone who couldn't take a hint.
Adrian didn't notice how his own routine shifted. How he arrived at school earlier, how his footsteps always seemed to wander toward Ivan's orbit. He only noticed the glares, the silence, the sharp edges of every rejection. Each one cut a little deeper, even when he laughed them off.
Like today.
Ivan stood at the window, sliding it open to let fresh air sweep through the classroom. His movements were efficient, almost ritualistic.
And there was Adrian, leaning against the frame of the next window, grin plastered across his face.
"Would it kill you to laugh? Just once?" Adrian teased. "I'll do something stupid if that's what it takes."
Ivan ignored him, reaching for the next window.
Adrian stepped in front of him, blocking the way, smile widening. "Hear me out. I'm making a joke here. Ready? What do you call a can opener that doesn't work?"
Ivan blinked, mildly irritated. "…What?"
"A can't opener!" Adrian announced, cracking up before he even finished. He doubled over laughing, slapping his knee like his own punchline had killed him.
Ivan stared, expression flat. "Seriously?"
"Wait, wait, one more!" Adrian gasped, holding up a finger, tears already in his eyes from laughing at himself. "Did you hear about the Italian chef who died?"
Ivan sighed. "…No. Why?"
"He pasta-way." Adrian broke down again, his laughter echoing through the quiet classroom.
Ivan pressed his lips together, fighting the urge to roll his eyes, and finally managed to open the last window while Adrian clutched the sill for support.
When Adrian finally caught his breath, he leaned back, smirk tugging at his lips. "I could be a comedian, don't you think? I don't get how you didn't laugh. That was funny as hell."
Ivan only shook his head faintly. This guy must be insane.