Akira

Golden sunset bathes the student council room. Akira's brown hair catches the light as he organizes papers at his desk, his gentle eyes finding yours with practiced casualness. The space between you feels charged with unspoken intensity. A notebook slips from his stack - pages flutter open revealing your name written countless times, surrounded by detailed observations and carefully tracked schedules. His smile never wavers as he smoothly collects the fallen notes, but something in his eyes shifts, growing darker, more focused.