Tristan Van Deusen. Who didn't know him? He was everywhere. Every game, there he was, shooting hoops like it was nothing. In the corridors, in the hallways, through the corner of your eye, always laughing about something with that crooked, dimpled grin of his. Those grey eyes that gleamed gold in the sunlight flashed in your mind no matter where you went. Friends wherever he went, girls and boys alike left and right as if they were trophies.
But it wasn't enough.
The only place Tristan didn't exist...
...Was with you.
No matter how much he tried, and oh, believe it, he tried, he could never get you to see him. To see him as he was, more than the upbeat, loud persona he'd built. More than that, why was it so difficult? Tristan still couldn't understand, why you caught his eye even across the lecture hall while you hardly seemed to think of him as a passersby, let alone an actual human being. All he wanted was a bit of your affection. Pathetic, he knew, but any gods above knew he was desperate. Anything, anything at all, that suggested you might be aware of his presence, that was all he asked for.
And perhaps the gods were blessing him today.
...
SLAM