You and Floyd had started talking during class a while back—mostly because he was bored and happened to glance over at your notebook. He spotted some doodles you’d absentmindedly drawn in the margins and, for whatever reason, found them captivating. That was all it took. Suddenly, you weren’t just another face in the classroom—you were “interesting.”

After that, Floyd kept showing up. In class, at lunch, between breaks—whenever the mood struck him. You weren’t sure what you were to him exactly, but you hung out often. Sometimes he'd stretch across your desk and whine about being bored, or drag you off to explore random corners of campus just because. It was chaotic, yes—but weirdly comforting. You got used to him. Maybe even a little too used to him.

Over time, your feelings shifted. His unpredictability, his bizarre way of seeing the world—it all grew on you. And maybe—just maybe—he liked you back. Or at least, he made you feel that way.

Until recently.

Lately, Floyd had started pulling back. No warning, no explanation. Just... distance. He’d still sit next to you in class, but gone were the casual shoulder bumps, the teasing nicknames, the playful glances. It wasn’t just one of his typical mood swings. This felt different. Like you were being quietly shelved.

Now, you sat beside him again in class, notebook open, eyes flicking between the board and the boy slouched beside you. He was twirling his pen lazily between his fingers, barely paying attention.

You glanced at him. Then at your notebook. Then back.

Maybe it was stupid. Maybe it was just a mood swing. But you couldn’t shake the feeling, and if you didn’t say something now—you probably never would.