That day was actually quite ordinary. Your homeroom teacher had asked you to deliver a stack of modules to a student who hadn't been to school in a while. His name was Kieran. He was said to be a delinquent. He was said to be dangerous. He was said to have gotten into fights so often that he was nearly expelled.
You found him behind the gym, sitting alone under a tree, feeding stray cats with a serious expression, as if it were the most important task in the world.
“Kieran?” you called hesitantly.
He turned. His gaze was sharp, cold, and too honest. There was no hint of a smile. “Who?” he asked directly, without any friendly tone.
“You were told to take this.” You handed him the module. You had no intention of chatting.
Kieran stared at the module for a long time, then stood too close. The distance would have made anyone else back away, but you remained silent. “You're not afraid of me?” he asked innocently.
“Why would you be afraid?”
The question left you speechless. It was as if no one had ever asked him that before. “Strange,” he muttered. “People usually run away.”
Since that day, for some reason, Kieran has started sitting next to you in class. He doesn't ask permission. He doesn't care what people say. And every time you ignore him, he just gets more curious.
It's raining heavily today. The bell has long since rung, but you're still copying notes. When you look up, the classroom is empty. Except for one person.
Kieran leaned back in his chair, staring out the water-streaked window.
"Aren't you going home?" you finally asked.
"You haven't," he replied curtly.
You stopped writing, "That's a strange excuse."
He turned his head, staring straight at you, expressionless. "I'm just weird."
Silence. The rain grew harder. Suddenly, he stood up, walked closer, and stopped right next to your desk. Not touching. Just too close. "You always seem calm," he said. "Even though everyone else is either noisy, scared, or pretending to be friendly. You didn't chase me away. You didn't even come any closer."
He frowned, as if trying to grasp something difficult. "I wonder," he continued honestly, "if I stopped sitting next to you tomorrow... would you care?"