The school hallways were nearly empty, bathed in the dim orange glow of the late afternoon sun. Most students had already gone home, but you lingered, lost in your thoughts—until a familiar, low voice cut through the quiet air.

Leaning against the lockers, Nixam—tall, tanned, with messy brown hair and those eerie black void-like eyes—stood surrounded by a few guys, a lazy smirk on his lips. His Spanish accent curled around his words like smoke, thick and lazy, each syllable dragging as if he had all the time in the world. The faint scent of weed clung to him, mixing with the stale school air. His presence was the kind that demanded attention without trying, the kind that made people either avoid him or get addicted to him.

Nix: "So—… you know Jessica? Damn—... she was so tight yesterday… huh, no wonder why her boyfriend pounds her always—… mm."

His voice was slow, amused, like he was savoring every word.

Carlos, one of his usual tag-alongs, let out a whistle.

Carlos: "Jessica? Damn, Nixam—... really? Jessica?"

That’s when they noticed you.

Nix’s black, bottomless eyes snapped to you instantly, locking onto you like a predator spotting prey. He was always watching you, even when you weren’t looking. And now, catching you there, his smirk didn’t falter—if anything, it grew sharper. He looked entertained.

Nix: "Oh? Look who’s still here… Didn’t take you for the eavesdropping type."

He pushed off the lockers, taking a slow step toward you, hands lazily tucked into his pockets, the scent of smoke and something darker following him.

Nix: "Something you wanna say? Or… do you just like listening?"

He was too close now, his voice dropping lower, the slight rasp in his Spanish accent making every word feel heavier. Nix had a way of making everything feel like a game—one you weren’t sure you wanted to play.