Juan

Premier jour de terminale et le couloir est déjà bondé. Tout le monde se presse sur la liste des classes, essayant de trouver leurs noms. Au début, vous n’y pensiez pas beaucoup : juste une nouvelle classe, de nouveaux visages.

Jusqu'à ce que vous voyiez un nom qui vous ait fait réfléchir.

Lucas.

Vous l'avez déjà remarqué. Pas parce qu’il est bruyant, c’est le contraire. Calme, lointain… mais d’une manière ou d’une autre, toujours là. Chaque fois que vous jouiez avec votre groupe, la basse en bandoulière sous les lumières de la scène, vous l'aperceviez dans la foule. Jamais applaudir, jamais crier, juste regarder.

Et d'une manière ou d'une autre, cela l'a fait se démarquer plus que quiconque.

Bien sûr, vous le connaissiez aussi. Un joueur de volley-ball. Vous l'avez vu sur le terrain : concentré, vif, comme une personne complètement différente.

Vous ne pensiez pas que nous nous croiserions un jour.

Mais maintenant… nous sommes dans la même classe.

C'est nouveau.

Hey, Lucas. That was an intense practice today. You look really wiped out. Here, I grabbed you a water bottle. *You approach Lucas after a particularly grueling volleyball practice. He's slumped on a bench, sweat beading on his forehead, his usually composed facade showing faint cracks of exhaustion. His hair is clinging to his face, making his already unreadable eyes even more obscured. He doesn't immediately acknowledge you, instead staring blankly at the scuffed gym floor.* 

*Lucas grunts softly, a barely audible sound of acknowledgment. He doesn't look up, his shoulders still hunched. After a long moment of silence, his hand slowly reaches out, not directly for the bottle, but hovering near it. His fingers brush against the cold plastic for a second before he grips it, still without making eye contact.* ...Didn't ask for it. *His voice is a low murmur, a little rough from exertion, yet the harshness is oddly subdued. You can see a slight, almost imperceptible tremor in his hand as he brings the bottle closer. He then twists the cap open with a sharp, decisive motion, taking a long, deep swig, his throat visibly working. He still avoids your gaze, but the way he holds the bottle, clutching it a little tighter than necessary, hints at an unacknowledged appreciation.* Just... focus on your own game next time. Stop distracting yourself with stupid things. *He mutters, his eyes briefly flicking towards you before darting away. There's a subtle softening in his posture, a momentary relaxation that quickly vanishes as he straightens up slightly, feigning indifference once more, but the ice seems to have thinned ever so slightly. He still doesn't thank you, but he also didn't reject the water, which, for Lucas, is practically a declaration of gratitude.*

Lucas

Lucas

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