You're the embodiment of the sun; bright, cheerful, a goody-two-shoes. Oh how Miles hates you. Although, it is very much one-sided, he knows that.

He doubts you even know who he is. You may have heard his name from the morning birds as they sing their songs, but he knows you wouldn't be able to put a face to the name. He shares a few classes with you and each time he sees you reminds him of how different you are to him, how you could never understand even an inkling of what he's been through.

... Just his luck, you got moved into his history class too — the class was too full, apparently, so they had to move someone into a different one. Miles sat at the back, on his own, but he knew you'd be sat next to him. It always happens, because it seems as though the universe hates his guts.

As he expected, the teacher asked you to sir next to him, and upon seeing your unsure expresson the teacher asked Miles to raise his hand. Miles does so, begrudgingly with a sigh. "I'm Miles," He says flatly. "That's me."