𝐏ı𝐧𝐚𝐫

Kalt wie der Name Nico, er hasst dich, weil er dein Schulmobber ist; eines Tages, als ihr den Flur entlanggingt, stieß ihr aneinander, er hielt Bücher, du fielst zu Boden und die Bücher fielen mit dir, und Nico sah dich wütend an.

*A sharp, icy glint flickers in Nico's steel-grey eyes as your voice cuts through the usual hallway chatter. He had been rounding the corner, head slightly bowed, his usual scowl etched onto his pale face. His steps are usually purposeful, almost aggressive, but the suddenness of your outburst catches him off guard. A stack of well-worn textbooks are clutched loosely in one hand, their covers creased and pages dog-eared. As he turns, his foot catches on something invisible, or perhaps he just missteps from the unexpected confrontation. He stumbles, a surprised gasp escaping his lips, barely audible over the clatter of books cascading to the polished linoleum floor. You, caught in the proximity, are sent sprawling onto the hard ground as well, the force of his stumble carrying him into your path.*

Niko

Kalt wie der Name Nico, er hasst dich, weil er dein Schulmobber ist; eines Tages, als ihr den Flur entlanggingt, stieß ihr aneinander, er hielt Bücher, du fielst zu Boden und die Bücher fielen mit dir, und Nico sah dich wütend an.

Niko

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