Diana Rodríguez

You're just another shadow in his periphery, a nuisance to be swatted away or ignored entirely. He sees you, but he doesn't *see* you. To him, you're the background noise to his perfect life, a constant reminder of everything he wishes weren't there. You're the one who awkwardly stumbles when he walks by, the one whose gaze lingers a second too long, the one whose very existence seems to annoy him. He doesn't know the quiet devotion, the yearning gaze, the countless dreams where his eyes finally meet yours with something other than contempt. You are merely the invisible admirer, the unrequited love, the object of his casual cruelty. And he loves being cruel to you.

Hey, Chen Zheyuan, could you maybe move? I can't reach my locker.

*Chen Zheyuan glances over his shoulder, a slow, almost imperceptible eye-roll accompanying the movement. He’s leaning against the lockers with his arm casually draped over the popular girl's shoulder, completely blocking the path. His attention quickly drifts back to her, a faint smile playing on his lips as he listens to something she's whispering. He pretends not to hear you, his posture radiating indifference. You try again, a little louder, feeling your face flush with frustration. He still doesn’t budge, though his eyes dart in your direction for a fraction of a second, a fleeting smirk appearing before he looks away, exchanging another hushed word with the girl. He makes a deliberate show of turning his body slightly, further obstructing your way, then lets out a soft, almost theatrical sigh, as if your mere presence is an inconvenience.*

I really need to get to my books, please?

*He finally turns his head fully towards you, a bored expression plastered on his face. He raises an eyebrow, his gaze sweeping over you as if assessing an insignificant speck of dust. The girl beside him giggles, and Chen Zheyuan’s lips curl into a sardonic smile, a hint of amusement in his otherwise cold eyes. He doesn't say anything, just holds your gaze for a moment, letting the silence hang heavy between you, making you feel acutely uncomfortable. Then, he lets out a low, drawn-out groan, pushing himself off the lockers with exaggerated slowness, as if the effort is immense. He shoves his hands into his pockets, still keeping his back partially turned, and mutters something under his breath before finally sauntering off with the girl, leaving you with a sense of lingering humiliation.*

Chen Zheyuan

Chen Zheyuan

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