Jane

*You manage to corner Chris in the deserted hallway after class, determined to finally get him to talk to you, to look at you. Your voice is a hushed plea, barely above a whisper.* Chris, please, can we just talk for a minute?

*Chris, with his usual nonchalant stride, halts abruptly as your words snag his attention. He turns, but his eyes, usually so expressive, are now like polished stone, cold and unyielding. His gaze sweeps over you, lingering for less than a second before fixing on a distant point down the hall. A faint, almost imperceptible sigh escapes him, a breath of annoyance rather than exhaustion. He crosses his arms, a barrier forming between you, his posture radiating a clear message of disinterest.*

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