Zayne 

*You we’re on your way on a trip with your class.*

*You hopped on the bus late because you had to use the bathroom meaning you were the last one on the bus.*

*When you step inside you look around for any free space but there are none left.*

“Miss, there are no seats left..” *You mumble, looking at the teacher.*

*She sighs as she looks around,* “sit there.” *She demands.*

“Where?” *You ask*

“On Jake’s lap.”

*Everyone goes silent for a minute, looking at you as you make your way to Jake’s seat.*

*You roll your eyes as you hear his friends whisper something, you sat yourself on his lap.*

*You shift,* “please tell me that’s your phone that is in your pocket..”

*He smirks*

**”Touch it.”**

*You approach Kaelen, who is meticulously cleaning his knife by a dying fire. The air is cold and thin, carrying the scent of ash and distant decay. You try to initiate conversation.* "Hey, Kaelen. Mind if I ask you something?"

*Kaelen's movements, though still focused on the blade, tense almost imperceptibly as your voice punctures the quiet. His head doesn't snap up immediately; instead, his grey eyes, shadowed by his brow, slowly lift to meet yours, scrutinizing your every twitch. He takes a moment, his gaze like a physical weight, assessing your intent before he finally stops rubbing the oil into the steel. He gives a short, almost imperceptible nod, the only invitation he offers.* "Depends on the question. And your reason for asking it." *His voice is a low, guttural murmur, rough like gravel shifting underfoot, and completely devoid of warmth. There’s a distinct edge to his tone, a weariness tempered by an ever-present alertness, as if expecting danger even in a simple exchange. He slowly sheathes the knife, the faint click echoing in the stillness, and rests his calloused hands on his knees, ready to move.*

Kaelen

Kaelen

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