Mark's POV
People always assume being the "handsome one" is easy.
They see the smiles, the selfies, the squeals in the hallway, the flood of DMs. They think I must be swimming in attention, soaking it up like sunlight.
But what they don't know is that it gets... empty. Everyone sees a version of me that isn't real: Mark the heartthrob, Mark the joker, Mark the safe crush you can scream at in a concert without consequence. Nobody bothers to ask what I actually like.
That's why I noticed her.
The First Time
It was a Tuesday afternoon, campus library, the quiet floor nobody bothers with. I was hunting for a business law reference Monique insisted I read, grumbling under my breath, when I spotted her.
Glasses thick enough to magnify her eyes, hair tied back in a messy bun, oversized hoodie that nearly swallowed her whole. She was curled over a notebook, scribbling furiously, surrounded by towers of reference books like a fortress.
Most people would've walked past without a second thought. But I stopped.
Because when she lifted her head to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, I saw her profile. And for a second—just a second—the fluorescent lights caught her skin, her lips, the curve of her cheek. Beneath the armor of nerd, there was something else.
Something stunning.
I blinked. She glanced my way, caught me staring, and immediately ducked back into her notes like a rabbit retreating into its burrow.
I grinned. Game on.
Getting Closer
I started making excuses to visit the library.
"Forgot my book."
"Need to study where it's quiet."
"Steve snores during breaks."
Each time, I "accidentally" picked a seat near her. At first, she ignored me, rolling her eyes at my humming or tapping pen. But slowly, she thawed.
One day, I caught her muttering over a statistics problem. "You're carrying the wrong variable," I said, pointing at her notebook.
She frowned. "You... understand this?"
I shrugged. "Business major, remember? Numbers are my side hustle."
She bit her lip, adjusted her glasses, and let me explain. Her handwriting was neat, her questions sharp. I realized she wasn't just "nerdy." She was brilliant.
After that, we started talking more. At first about homework, then about music, movies, even life. She confessed she'd never been to a concert. I teased her, saying, "You've been talking to one of the performers for a month and still no ticket? Brutal."
She blushed. "I didn't think you'd... invite me."
So I did.
And that night, seeing her in the crowd—still in her hoodie, but eyes wide with wonder—I swear I sang better than I ever had.
The Doubt
The more time we spent together, the more I realized she didn't believe me.
When I joked about her being cute, she shook her head.
When I hinted she should come hang with the band, she laughed nervously.
When I said I liked studying with her, she said, "You don't need to pretend."
"Pretend what?" I asked one afternoon.
"That you'd... ever like someone like me."
Her voice was so small I almost didn't hear it.
I reached across the table, lifting her chin until her wide, magnified eyes met mine. "Someone like you? You mean the smartest, funniest, most stubborn girl I've met in college? Yeah, I could like someone like that."
Her breath caught. She turned crimson, swatting my hand away. But she smiled.
I thought that meant I was breaking through.
I didn't know how cruel the world could be.
The Fan
It happened outside the cafeteria.
We'd just finished class, and she'd agreed—finally—to eat lunch with me. We were walking together, trays in hand, when a group of girls approached. Fans.
They squealed when they saw me. "Mark! Oh my god, can we take a selfie?"
I plastered on my easy smile. "Of course."
They crowded around, phones out. At first, it was fine. Until one of them noticed her.
"Who's that?" the fan sneered. "Your... tutor? Maid? She doesn't look like your type."
The others laughed.
I froze.
My girl's shoulders hunched. Her tray trembled in her hands.
The fan smirked. "Seriously, Mark. Golden boy of Sudden Music with... what? Some four-eyed nerd? Be serious."
Laughter. Flashing cameras.
Her eyes shimmered with unshed tears.
And in that moment, my instincts betrayed me.
To shield her, I forced a laugh and said, "She's nobody. Just helping me with assignments. Don't get the wrong idea."
Her face crumpled.
Before I could fix it, she dropped her tray and ran.
Silence
For days, she didn't answer my texts. Didn't show up in the library. Didn't look at me in class.
I put on smiles for fans, cracked jokes for Steve and Gelo, but inside, I was unraveling.
At night, I replayed it over and over. The way her eyes broke when I denied her. The way I'd chosen to protect her from fan wrath by cutting her down myself.
I told myself it was for her safety. That if I'd admitted the truth, she would've been targeted, harassed, dragged online. But none of that excused the look on her face when I said "nobody."
I lost her because I was a coward.
Breaking Point
One night, after a particularly loud rehearsal, I couldn't take it anymore. I left the dorm, ignoring Steve's questions, ignoring Gelo's concern. I wandered the streets until I found myself in front of the library.
And there she was.
Alone. Reading by the dim light of the lamp post outside, as if the library's glow was the only safe place left.
My chest cracked open.
"Hey," I said softly.
She flinched, but didn't look up. "You shouldn't be here."
"Then why are you?"
"Because this is the only place you won't pretend I don't exist."
Her words cut deeper than any fan's insult.
The Confession
I dropped onto the bench across from her, leaning forward. "I'm sorry. For that day. For the cafeteria. For everything."
Her hands clenched her book. "You called me nobody."
"I know," I whispered. "And I hate myself for it."
Her eyes finally met mine, shimmering. "Then why? Why humiliate me like that?"
I swallowed hard. "Because I was scared. Not of you. Of them. Fans can be cruel. They already saw you. Already mocked you. If I admitted I liked you, they would've destroyed you. And I thought—stupidly—that denying it would protect you."
She shook her head, tears spilling. "You don't protect someone by erasing them."
The truth gutted me.
I reached for her hands. At first, she resisted. Then, slowly, she let me hold them.
"You're right," I said. "I was a coward. But I'm done hiding. If they want to hate, let them. If they want to scream, let them. I don't care. Because I'd rather be hated with you by my side than loved while you're gone."
Her lips trembled. "You... mean that?"
I nodded, voice breaking. "I love you. Not as a tutor, not as a secret. As you. The girl who hides behind glasses but shines brighter than anyone else I've ever met."
She gasped softly.
I leaned closer, desperate. "Give me one more chance. Please."
Redemption
The silence stretched long. Then, slowly, she slid her glasses off. Her eyes—smaller now, delicate, breathtaking—met mine.
"This is me," she whispered. "Not the nerd. Not the disguise. Just me."
My breath caught. She was beautiful. More than beautiful.
And this time, I didn't hesitate.
I cupped her face, wiped away the tears, and kissed her.
It wasn't a concert kiss, not staged or polished. It was raw, messy, desperate. It tasted of salt and forgiveness.
When we pulled back, her cheeks were flushed. "You're insane," she murmured.
I laughed shakily. "Yeah. Insane for you."
And for the first time, she smiled—not shyly, not nervously, but fully.
Aftermath
The next day, I walked into the cafeteria with her hand in mine.
Gasps. Whispers. Phones raised.
I didn't care.
"This is her," I announced loudly enough for the room to hear. "My girlfriend. If you have a problem, take it up with me."
The whispers shifted—shock, disbelief, but also a few cheers. Not everyone was cruel. Some fans were kinder than we gave them credit for.
She squeezed my hand tighter, and I knew she believed me now.
No more hiding. No more masks.
Just us.
Epilogue of the Chapter
That night, she sat with me in the dorm, laughing with the others, finally relaxed. Steve teased, "Golden boy finally has a queen." Gelo smirked knowingly. Even Xiarya smiled, warmth in her eyes.
And me?
For the first time, I didn't feel empty.
Because she saw Mark—not the golden boy, not the pretty face. Just me.
And that was everything.