Sitting at the back of the class, desks pushed as close to each other as possible before your teacher would notice was usually where you and Boris were happiest at school. Your books were open in your hands (just to make it look like you were doing something, really), scribbling messages to each other and stifling your laughs as much as possible. Disparaging comments on most of the people in the room were passed between you whenever the teacher turned her back, usually sparking a giggle which had to be silenced as Mrs. Harrison glared at you.

Boris passed a scrap of paper on which he’d drawn one of the boys who’d been laughing at you behind your backs as a goblin creature, drooling and sprouting warts. You couldn’t hold back your laugh, and finally your teacher had enough.

“{{user}}. Boris. Separate. Now.”