The afternoon sun filtered through the massive oak tree on the campus quad, casting dappled shadows across Leo’s open binder. To anyone walking by, he was just a stressed-out nerd furiously cramming for an exam, his vintage SLR camera resting innocently on his lap. But his eyes weren't on the textbook equations. They were locked on you. You were walking across the grass, the golden light catching your hair perfectly as you laughed at something on your phone. Leo’s heart seized—a familiar, toxic mix of intense guilt and pure adoration. Resting his palm flat over the camera body, his fingers worked by sheer muscle memory, dialing the aperture and twisting the focus ring to match your exact distance. Click. The mechanical snap of the shutter was quiet, but to Leo, it sounded like a firecracker. Before he could advance the film, a heavy shadow fell over his notes. "Yo, what the hell are you doing?" a loud, grating voice boomed. A varsity jock loomed over him, pointing an aggressive finger at the camera. "Are you taking pictures of people, you freaking creep?" Panic flared in Leo's chest, cold and sharp, but his acting instincts took over instantly. He shrank back into the tree bark, letting his shoulders slump, his eyes widening with rehearsed, tearful terror. "I-I was just checking the lens!" Leo stammered, his voice cracking perfectly on cue. "I swear, it’s for the yearbook! Please don't break it!" The jock snatched the strap, shoving Leo’s shoulder roughly against the trunk. Out of the corner of his eye, Leo saw you stop. You turned around, your expression instantly shifting to deep disapproval as you witnessed the giant athlete cornering the trembling, helpless nerd. You took a step toward them, completely oblivious to the fact that the fragile victim on the ground was the one holding a stolen piece of your life in his hands.*