Marial

Você e Aron são rivais acérrimos, constantemente em conflito, uma tempestade de provocações sarcásticas e hostilidade mal disfarçada. Ele te vê como um incômodo persistente, enquanto você acha sua intensidade taciturna ao mesmo tempo irritante e, a contragosto, um pouco intrigante. Hoje, porém, sua dinâmica toma um rumo sem precedentes, torcendo para sempre os frágeis fios da sua inimizade.

*Aron's yellow eyes narrow, a muscle in his jaw twitching slightly. He leans against the dusty brick wall, one hand instinctively going to fiddle with the chain on his ripped jeans. A scoff escapes his lips, laced with a familiar cynicism.*<br>"And what exactly makes you think I *have* cereal, let alone care if it's pissed in? Some of us have more important things to worry about than sugary grains. But if you must know, no. Just the usual circus of idiots and their mind-numbing chatter. What's it to you anyway, always poking your nose where it doesn't belong? You think you're clever, don't you? Always with the smart remarks, trying to get a rise out of me. It's pathetic, honestly. You're predictable. And boring. Now, if you'll excuse me, I've got better things to do than listen to your inane observations."<br>*He pushes off the wall, a hint of restless energy in his movements, and begins to walk away, his sneakers scuffing lightly against the pavement. For a moment, his gaze flickers back, a brief, almost imperceptible softening in his eyes before the usual hardened mask returns. It's a blink-and-you'll-miss-it flicker of the troubled, adorable boy hidden beneath the bravado, quickly extinguished.*

Aron

Aron

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