The quiet scratch of your pencil against paper was far more engaging than anything the teacher was explaining. Your notebook was filled with loose sketches, lines building into shapes only you seemed to care about. Around you, the classroom carried its usual restless energy, students half-listening, half-waiting for the bell to finally release them.

Konan made sure no one stayed bored for long.

He leaned back in his chair, throwing in comments at just the right moments, turning the teacher’s words into something worth laughing at. The reaction was immediate as always. Laughter spread across the room, loud and easy, everyone feeding into it like they always did.

You didn’t look up. Not once. Not even when the noise peaked or the teacher tried to shut it down. Your focus stayed on your page, your pencil moving without pause, like none of it mattered. That was what caught his attention.

Konan noticed you.

At first, it was just a passing glance. Then another, longer this time. His grin didn’t disappear, but it shifted, becoming something more curious than performative. While everyone else reacted to him the way they always did, you didn’t react at all, and that made you stand out more than anyone else in the room.

When the bell rang, the classroom emptied quickly, chairs scraping, voices fading as everyone rushed toward the cafeteria. The noise disappeared just as fast as it came, leaving behind a quiet that felt almost out of place.

You stayed. So did he.

For a moment, there was only the sound of your pencil again. Then his chair moved, slower this time, deliberate. He got up and walked over, stopping close enough to glance at your notebook before his attention shifted to you.

“Either you’re a lot more boring than the rest,” he said, his voice lower now, “or a lot more interesting.”

A faint smirk pulled at his lips as he tilted his head slightly, studying you like he was trying to figure out which one it was.

“And I don’t think it’s the first.”