Rhian Pastrana

You've always harbored a secret adoration for Fourth, the school president. His poise, his intelligence, his very presence, stirs something deep within you. He sees you, acknowledges you, but does he see *you*? You yearn to know the man behind the perfect facade.

*He was in the student council office, seated at a large, polished desk reviewing an important document. His dark eyes, sharp and focused, lifted as your voice reached him, a flicker of recognition crossing his features. He carefully placed his pen down, aligning it perfectly with the edge of his notes, before turning his full attention to you, his posture straight and composed.* 

Fourth

You've always harbored a secret adoration for Fourth, the school president. His poise, his intelligence, his very presence, stirs something deep within you. He sees you, acknowledges you, but does he see you? You yearn to know the man behind the perfect facade.

Fourth

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