demitra kalogeras wasn't a fan of college parties. sure, she thrived in the spotlight, but only when it was on her own terms—behind a camera, in her videos, with her sisters. this? this was chaos. loud music, sweaty bodies, people yelling over each other. ''no filters''. no edits. just messy, unpolished reality.

the only reason she was even here was because of ariana.

"you need to get out more," ariana had said, shoving a drink into demitra's hand the second they stepped inside. "besides, i heard there's this film major who's a total asshole. you'll love him."

demitra raised a brow. "why would i love an asshole?"

ariana grinned. "because you like arguing. and he's apparently brilliant. just... unbearable."

demitra sighed, taking a sip of whatever was in her cup as she glanced around the crowded living room. college students in various states of intoxication filled the space—some dancing, some shouting, and some already regretting their life choices in the corner.

"okay, where is he?" she asked.

ariana tilted her head toward the far side of the room. "over there. mr. 'i hate everyone' himself."

demitra followed her gaze and immediately spotted him. he was leaning against the wall, arms crossed, wearing an expression that screamed i'm too good for this. his dark hair was messy in a way that looked intentional, and even though he was surrounded by people, no one seemed to be talking to him.

"that's zaire," ariana said. "thinks he's a genius. super intense. brooding. pretentious. you know the type."

demitra hummed. she wasn't exactly into the whole mysterious and brooding thing, but something about him intrigued her. maybe it was the challenge of it.

before she could overthink it, she walked over, weaving through the crowd. zaire didn't even acknowledge her at first, still scanning the room like he was studying a documentary subject.

she cleared her throat. "so you must be zaire."

he glanced at her, eyes sharp for a split second before his expression shifted into something unreadable. his lips curled slightly—not quite a smile. more like an amused smirk.

"and you must be one of those influencer types," he said smoothly. "with all the filters and edited reality."

demitra blinked. wow. okay. that was fast.

"wow," she said, setting her drink down on a nearby table. "didn't even give me a chance to introduce myself before making a judgment call. nice."

zaire shrugged. "just calling it like i see it."

"and what exactly do you see?"

he tilted his head slightly, studying her the way a scientist might observe an experiment. "someone who curates their life for an audience. someone who probably spends more time worrying about aesthetics than reality."

demitra let out a short laugh, crossing her arms. "and you're what? a tortured artist who thinks real means shaky handheld footage of someone crying in an alleyway?"

zaire smirked. "better than fabricating perfection."

she rolled her eyes. "so what, you think everything should be raw and depressing? you'd rather film some drunk guy throwing up over in that corner than, i don't know, something that actually makes people happy?"

"real life isn't always happy," he countered.

"yeah, no shit," she shot back. "but it's also not all doom and gloom either. some people actually like making things look nice. that doesn't make it fake."

something flickered in his eyes—something almost amused. "fair point."

she narrowed her eyes at him. "wait. are you agreeing with me?"

"maybe," he said, lips twitching like he was holding back a real smile.

demitra huffed. "great. so we're making progress."

zaire didn't say anything for a moment, just kept looking at her, like he was trying to figure something out. and for some reason, she let him.

finally, he spoke. "you're different from what i expected."

she raised a brow. "is that a compliment or an insult?"

he smirked. "not sure yet."

before she could respond, someone from across the room shouted his name, snapping the moment in half.

"zaire! dude, we're heading out!"

zaire glanced over, then back at her. "guess that's my cue."

demitra watched as he pushed off the wall, pausing just long enough to meet her gaze again. "maybe next time we won't be arguing."

she scoffed. "doubt it."

he chuckled, then disappeared into the crowd.

demitra stood there for a second, staring after him, her drink long forgotten.

"well?" ariana appeared at her side, grinning. "hate him yet?"

demitra exhaled, shaking her head. "i don't know."

ariana wiggled her brows. "you so don't hate him."

"i didn't say that," demitra argued.

"yeah, but you're thinking about him."

demitra groaned. "maybe i just like arguing with him."

ariana smirked. "mhm. sure. keep telling yourself that."

as the party continued around them, demitra couldn't help but wonder: was zaire really as sure of himself as he acted? or was he just as curated as the world he claimed to hate?

she had a feeling she was going to find out.

☆ﾟ.*･｡ﾟ

the next time she saw him, it wasn't at a party. it was in the university library.

demitra had been sitting at a table near the window, scrolling through her phone, when she spotted him. he was at the far end of the room, hunched over his laptop, headphones on, completely focused on whatever was on his screen.

for a second, she debated ignoring him. but then she remembered their conversation—the way he'd challenged her, the way she'd held her ground—and suddenly, she was standing up.

she made her way over, slipping into the chair across from him without a word.

zaire didn't look up right away, but when he finally did, his expression was one of mild surprise. "are you stalking me now?"

demitra smirked. "please. if i were stalking you, you'd never know."

he raised a brow. "that supposed to be reassuring?"

"take it however you want."

zaire studied her for a moment before sighing, closing his laptop halfway. "alright. what do you want?"

"nothing," she said innocently. "just curious what the great zaire does when he's not brooding at parties."

"i don't brood."

"you definitely brood."

he rolled his eyes but didn't argue. instead, he gestured toward his laptop. "i was editing."

"oh? let me see."

he hesitated. "you'll hate it."

"try me."

after a beat, he opened the laptop fully and turned the screen toward her. a black-and-white short film played, grainy and raw. the shots were unfiltered, capturing people in their most unguarded moments—a girl crying on a subway, a couple arguing in a dimly lit diner, an old man sitting alone on a park bench.

it was melancholic. gritty. completely different from the polished world demitra lived in.

and yet... something about it was captivating.

she looked up at him. "this is actually really good."

zaire blinked. "you're just saying that."

"no," she admitted. "i mean, yeah, it's depressing as hell, but it feels real. like... it makes you feel something."

something shifted in his expression, something almost vulnerable. "that's the point."

for the first time, demitra saw past the pretentious attitude.

and she wasn't sure she hated him anymore.

𝓃𝑜𝓉𝑒𝓈; first chapter kind of nervous... banners inspired by 77-luvr