𝙣𝙚𝙬 𝙠𝙞𝙙 ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

— The hallway was its usual blur of movement — the same faces, same uniforms, same mindless small talk bouncing off beige walls. You moved through it like always: detached, unbothered, floating just outside of it all. Most things didn’t faze you anymore. Emotions were loud, messy, unnecessary — and you’d long since stopped expecting anything new from this place.

Until he showed up.

The new kid.

He transferred in on a Tuesday, quiet and clean-cut. He didn’t try to stand out, but that’s exactly what made him stand out. He didn’t fill the room — he just existed in it like he already knew where he belonged.

You didn’t feel anything when you first saw him. Not butterflies, not nerves. Just… pause.

You caught yourself watching him during your second period history class. He sat two rows over. Didn’t speak unless called on. Didn’t look around for validation like most guys did. He kept to himself — but not in a lonely way. He chose it.

At lunch, you noticed how he turned girls down with quiet grace — not cold, just clear. Most people didn’t pick up on it, but you did. He wasn’t trying to be mysterious. He was just… himself.

And that annoyed you. Not because he was interesting — but because you noticed.

You weren’t supposed to notice.

—

After school, you were walking past the library when you saw him sitting on the windowsill outside, a book in his lap. Alone. Not on his phone. Just… reading.

You slowed your steps before you could stop yourself.

He looked up.

Made eye contact.

Nodded.

You hesitated, then took a few steps closer—not close enough to make it a “thing,” just close enough to pretend you were headed somewhere else.

“You always sit out here?” you asked, voice even.

He looked up again, closing the book with a finger inside to save his place. “Only on Tuesdays. I like the light.”

You blinked. “That’s weird.”

He smiled. Not insulted. Just amused. “Maybe. But you stopped to say something, so… not that weird.”

You narrowed your eyes, unsure whether to be impressed or annoyed.

“Didn’t say I was interested. Just curious.”

“Good,” he said calmly. “Curiosity’s more honest anyway.”

You didn’t respond. Just stared at him a second longer than you meant to.

Then you walked off.

You didn’t feel anything. Of course not.