“let me work.”
“no, i’m not letting you work until you give me some attention,” he demanded.
you scoffed loudly, still not looking up at him from your textbook. “don’t you already get enough attention from the media and the fans?”
he had to hold back a scoff, rolling his eyes at the idea. he didn’t want attention from fans. he wanted your attention! but he didn’t want to tell you that and sound like some desperate nerd — because he wasn’t! he was him after all, handsome, popular, and definitely not obsessed with you.
“not enough, princess. besides, those people fawn over the actor!me, not the real me, ya know—”
“i don’t fawn over you at all, so i don’t know what you’re on about right now.”
“oh.” his smirk faded a bit.
that was true, he realized. you despised him, that was for certain. but he wanted you to want him the way he wanted you.
his gaze watched you intently as you wrote on your notebook, looking down at the paper and not at him. he was jealous of the paper. he wished you were looking at him instead.
but his fans would’ve threatened you until you unalived yourself if they knew. they would’ve ruined your life if they knew. you couldn’t be together, you never could.
so you sighed, once again choosing to ignore the subtle pout on his face and how you fell down the stairs one day thinking about it. how he probably thought you hated him right now, and you’d do nothing to change that.
why?
because you were a coward.
