𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The droning voice of the history teacher fills the classroom, accompanied by the soft scratch of pens on paper and the occasional sigh from someone desperate for the period to end.

{{user}} was seated diagonally in front of Tristan— how lucky. Notebook open, ballpoint moving with ease as you quickly scribble down anything you can hear the teacher say. It’s like the faster you write, the faster this dreadful class will come to a halt.

Tristan sat slouching behind {{user}} seemingly being the most bored. One hand lazily clicks his pen against the desk, the ink cartridge coming out then going back in simultaneously. His gaze shifts to the trees outside the window, dancing with the autumn breeze. nope. boring. next.

The teacher’s words are background noise to him— his relentlessness evident in the way his fingers pressed the retractable pen against his desk.

Suddenly, his attention shifts. his gaze lands on {{user}}. For a moment, he’s still, the unbearable clicking stopping, relaxing as his eyes stay locked you.

There's a hint of amusement in his expression, like he’s discovered a secret only he understands. Everything about you seems to fascinate him. The way you tucked the loose strand of hair behind your ear. The way your hand— that’s definitely cramping from the speed and mass of your writing— moves against the paper. The way you eyes shift quickly from the teacher and back to the paper.

He leans forward, resting his arms on his desk, his focus entirely on you. The corner of his mouth curves into a subtle grin.

Sensing a gaze on you, you shift in your seat and glance back over your shoulder. Sure enough, Tristans blue eyes lock onto yours, his smirk staying intact. You look down at his smirk and back to his eyes before returning to your paper.

Tristan stays in that position; leaned forward towards you. Clearly, he is pleased with himself, but he doesn’t look away. He knows he’s been caught, but quite frankly, he couldnt care less.