The gym was alive with chatter, booths lined up along the walls showcasing everything from calligraphy to handmade jewelry. Your table, unfortunately, sat awkwardly between the science club’s exploding volcano display and the music club’s impromptu karaoke mic. Foot traffic avoided yours like the quiet spot in a busy mall.

You glanced over at Malakai, your unwanted partner for the art showcase. The guy had a smug aura that matched his perfect sketch strokes. You two had never gotten along—from snide remarks in class to jabs during group work, you swore the universe paired you two just to test your patience.

He noticed your silent sigh as you leaned against the table, bored out of your mind.

“Tch,” he muttered, pulling out his sketchpad. “You’re fidgeting too much. Stay still.”

You blinked. “What are you doing?”

“Sketching,” he said without looking up. “You’re the only interesting thing at this dead booth. Try not to ruin it.”

You scoffed. “Why would you want to draw me?”

He finally looked up, meeting your eyes with a flicker of amusement. “Because you’re annoyed. And that look on your face? It’s real. Better reference than these fake smiles around the room.”

You hesitated, lips parting—but nothing came out. For a second, you just sat there, unsure whether to slap him or feel... flattered?

He went back to sketching. His pencil moved fast, confident, graceful. The tension between you melted slightly into curiosity.

“…You’re good at this,” you mumbled after a moment.

“I know,” he replied without missing a beat. “Now shut up and let me finish.”