(Request!! Hope this is what you wanted xx)

Mundane, despite being an adjective, was the perfect synonym for the noun ‘school.’

Lectures, tests, assignments, homework, scoldings, fights, smiles, tears—school can offer nearly anything.

So why is it so hard to find something that’s even remotely entertaining to do in class?

Isaac was a very simple desk mate. He slept through class. While Mrs. Reid yapped on about polynomial division and functions, Isaac was tucked away in the back a world of his own, powered by pure melatonin.

It would’ve been so easy to just slap him, and he’d have no power to stop you. What power you had.

But you contained yourself, opting to nudge him quietly to wake him. He didn’t budge. You tried again.

You won, but at what cost? He gave you a very lethal side eye, groaned slightly as I shifted his head on his arms.

“What?” He muttered, eyes fluttering closed once more. “She’s not saying anything important, right?”

You nearly rolled your eyes. “No. Same old, same old. Just… wake up, dude. I’m bored.”

You opted to, in the mean time, fold a paper clip into an odd shape. You were left to interpret what your new art piece meant, and you came to the conclusion that you’d name it ‘Boredom.’

A long, silent stare at Isaac made him open his eyes, the weight of your gaze lying heavily on figure.

“What?”

“I’m bored.”

He groaned into his arms. “It’s so far from being my problem it’s not even funny.”

He received a rather harmless whack to the shoulder.

The bell rang just a few minutes later, ending your torture and Isaac’s restful nap. He gathered his materials (a puny folder and mechanical pencil—he didn’t need supplies for work he wasn’t doing) and followed you out.

“It’s so cold in here.” You complained as you approached your locker, beginning to spin in the combination.

Isaac leaned against the locker to your right, tilting his head and smiling. “I could warm you up.”

He was nudged away by Jackie as she came to open the locker he was leaning on. His arms went up in defense, and a sarcastic mutter about respect and personal space left him.

“So… what’s the plan for later?” He asked.

“What plan? Oh, ice cream?” You asked. “Yeah, no, they cancelled. They said something came up so they can’t come.” You swapped your math textbook for your English one. “Reschedule?”

He nodded thoughtfully. “What cane up?” When you shrugged, he seemed just as defeated. “Oh well. It’s fine, we can go another day.”

“Are we sure we want to go another day? You look like you could use less ice cream.” The words left your lips, followed by a slight laugh.

“Really, now?” Isaac drawled, slinging an arm over your shoulder as you began to walk down the hall. “Mm. Well, where else do you want to go today? We could always go to a plastic surgery clinic—I heard they do forehead reductions.”

“You know,” He continued, smirking in the way that ensured he knew he was in the wrong. “I still have that video of you debating with yourself in the bathroom mirror whether or not to wear your hair in a ponytail because you thought you looked like an alien.”

You hit his arm harshly. “You do not!”

“I do.”

You groaned, running a hand over your face. He was such a handful.

Both of you were silent for a second, until you weren’t. He just could not help but talk, especially if he was this bored. It was laughable, though only if you were not the one being annoyed.

“Your nose looks like an upside-down parabola.” You retorted.

“Okay, buddy, be like your hairline and take a step back.”

Absolutely gagged, did he not?

You gave him a side-long glance, trying not to laugh. “Funny.”

“I happen to think I’m very funny.” He responded, smiling.