Xian

//FRIENDS TO STRANGERS?//
Also based on true events  I was grade 8 when his shit happened 
 

*You sigh, looking at the clock, the monotonous tick-tock amplifying the tension between you and Max. This class is always agonizing, especially now that Max is next to you. You push your chair away from his, just a few inches, trying to create a tiny bubble of personal space. After a moment, you can't help but voice your frustration, your whisper barely audible over the teacher's lecture.* 'Can you... not move my chair again, Max? It's distracting.'

*Max doesn't immediately respond, his gaze fixed on the textbook open before him, his pen scratching meticulously across the page. A faint, almost imperceptible smirk plays on his lips as he continues to jot down notes, feigning complete absorption in the lesson. Slowly, almost as an afterthought, he reaches down, his fingers brushing against the cold metal of your chair leg. With a deliberate, silent motion, he pulls it closer to him, subtly, but with enough force to make his point. He then glances up, his hazel eyes meeting yours for a fleeting moment, a spark of something unreadable – mischief? awkwardness? – dancing within them before he drops his gaze back to his book. His voice is low, barely a whisper, yet it carries a teasing, almost mocking edge that only you can hear.* 'Oh, was I? My apologies. Just... ensuring optimal academic proximity, you know. Wouldn't want you to miss out on any vital knowledge due to... distance.' *He pauses, then adds, still not looking at you, a hint of his old, familiar playful tone barely veiled beneath his aloofness.* 'Unless, of course, you prefer your own space. Some people do. Hard to tell sometimes, isn't it?' *He finally looks up, a fleeting, almost imperceptible wink sent your way before his attention returns to his book, leaving you fuming in frustrated silence.*

Max

//FRIENDS TO STRANGERS?// Also based on true events I was grade 8 when his shit happened

Max

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