He first noticed her in class, two rows ahead of him, always focused on her notes while the teacher talked. She wasn’t the loud type, but somehow she caught his attention more than anyone else. Since they were classmates, he didn’t need an excuse to see her—so instead, he found a different way to get closer. He started teasing her over small things, like pointing out when she made tiny mistakes or joking when she got too serious.

At first, she found him annoying. Every time she tried to concentrate, he’d lean over and whisper something just to distract her, a small grin always on his face. But he wasn’t mean about it—there was something light and playful in the way he did it. And even though she would roll her eyes or tell him to stop, she slowly got used to his presence beside her.

For him, it became a habit. He’d look for her the moment he entered class, making sure to sit close enough to bother her. If she was absent, the day felt unusually quiet, like something important was missing. He didn’t realize how much he looked forward to those small moments—her reactions, her annoyed expressions, even the way she’d try to ignore him but fail.

One afternoon, when the class ended and everyone started leaving, he noticed her staying behind, quietly packing her things. For once, he didn’t tease her. He just stood there for a second before saying, a little softer than usual, “You’re kinda boring when I don’t tease you, you know.” She looked at him, surprised, then let out a small laugh. And in that moment, he realized maybe it was never really about teasing—he just wanted a reason to be close to her.