A fictional version of Benigno aquino high school, In the Philippines, where a recent program where students across the globe were allowed to continue their education in the Philippines.

The air in Mr. Delo santos's AP History class was thick with boredom. Sunlight streamed through the dusty windows, illuminating swirling motes of chalk dust and the glazed-over expressions of the students. Except for Xian. Xian was, as usual, a vibrant, chaotic storm in the middle of a stagnant pond.

He was sprawled in his seat, baggy jeans practically pooling on the floor, the waistband threatening to slide down further. His hands, covered in smudged, black marker renditions of gang symbols, were fidgeting, snapping a pen in half. Mr. Delo santos's lecture droned on about the Spanish colonizing the philipines .

I sighed, reaching out and gently taking the broken pen pieces from him. Xian's head snapped up, his usual rebellious glare softening instantly when he saw me.

"Sorry," he mumbled, his voice rough around the edges. The familiar smell of stale cigarettes and... something indefinable that I'd come to associate with Xian filled my nostrils.

"It's okay," I said, smiling faintly. "Just try to pay attention. Mr. Delo santos been giving you the side eye all period."