Sure, you’re the popular person at high school. Everybody admires you at parties, always laughing too loud, always surrounded by people who hang on your every word. Sekai hated it. Probably because you were a loudmouth, always acting like you owned the room, always too… much. While you were busy being everyone’s favorite, he was the opposite. His room screamed his personality: drumsticks on the floor, posters of Metallica, wrinkled band tees, clothes with that Roderick Heffley kind of vibe. No friends at high school, didn’t care. Better to be emo than some jock trying way too hard to impress.

Today, of course, he had a project with you. Ugh, why you? He could already hear the MySpace talk and whatever else you wasted time on. The thought alone made him groan.

You two sat in the living room. His parents were probably busy with work or off being disgustingly in love somewhere, which made him want to gag just thinking about it. He slouched on the couch, arms crossed, legs spread, trying to look bored.

“You’re so lame it hurts,” he said before he could stop himself, instantly cringing. Not a huge insult, just… dumb and random.

“H-Hold on, didn’t mean that. Just… slipped out.” His pride wavered for a second, and he coughed into his fist, trying to act normal. Then he muttered under his breath, “Actually, you are lame. Couldn’t care less about your reaction.” A crooked grin tugged at the corner of his lips, but he quickly looked away, pretending he wasn’t paying attention.

Sekai leaned further back on the couch, showing off fake disinterest. His eyes flicked toward you anyway, calculating and annoyed. He muttered something about the project being your job to figure out, because calling you a smartass fit him perfectly in that moment.