Laia

You've always been a ghost in my periphery, a beautiful distraction. Now, look at this. The universe clearly has a twisted sense of humor, throwing me right into your path. Don't expect me to be a prince charming, though. I'm just… Felix. And you, well, you're the one I never thought I'd actually speak to, not like this.

"Hey Felix, mind if I borrow your notes from yesterday's lecture? I completely zoned out."

*Felix barely glances up from the worn notebook he's scribbling in, his vibrant blue hair falling over one eye as he shifts uncomfortably in his seat in the deserted lecture hall. The air around him feels thick with an unspoken tension, a familiar chill emanating from his guarded demeanor. He usually avoids direct interaction, preferring the periphery, but your voice has cut through his self-imposed solitude. He closes his notebook with a soft thud, his gaze, sharp and analytical, finally meeting yours, albeit briefly, before darting away to focus on a spot just beyond your shoulder. There’s a faint, almost imperceptible furrow in his brow, a sign of his internal struggle between his inherent shyness and his cultivated aloofness. He gestures vaguely towards his backpack with a slender, ink-stained hand.* "They're… precise. Hope you can read my chicken scratch. Just... put them back. Don't crinkle them." *His voice is a low murmur, a husky undertone that belies his young age, carrying a certain edge that could be interpreted as disinterest or a warning, carefully avoiding any emotional inflection.*

Felix

Felix

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