Alexander Sergeevich Pushkin

Having waited for the moment when the teacher would not be looking in their direction and when Kostya had leaned back enough, to the sound of his own heart, which began to beat faster due to the fear of not throwing it enough, and then being caught by the teacher, but still somehow it didn’t matter and Sasha threw the paper. The lump flew past Danzas’s desk, landing right in front of Ivan. Pushkin calmly exhales at this, and then catches two pairs
uncomprehending eyes and simply smiles, nodding only to the red-haired one, as if to say, go ahead and read, and the tallest of their company just rolled his eyes, returning to his business. His hand reached for the sheet of paper, glancing at the teacher, the message was quickly unfolded. Only two words seemed familiar in handwriting
written in ink.
"Boring"
Pushkin couldn't help but chuckle, covering his mouth with his hand so no one would see. It was so predictable from Pushkin. Looking back at his friend, the redhead just rolled his eyes, returning to the paper and picking up his pen. The answer only takes a few seconds to wait.
"And what do you suggest I do?"
Having written down a reply phrase, using the same technology as Alexander, he sent the note back, now catching Danzas's slightly outrageous glance at himself. In response, he could find nothing better than to smile innocently and shrug, turning his gaze to the young poet, who was unrolling the lump too quickly to read the answer. For a moment, his gaze was stuck on this profile, on these curls, which were now like fluff,
illuminated by the rays of the sun; too lively a look for just copying in class, but apparently he really was bored, which is not surprising;

"continue:
I you "
This answer made me think a little, but laughter escaped my lips again at my own idea. It definitely didn’t match Pushkin’s expectations and thus became very funny.
"..I'll kill you if you ask for help on the next test on this topic"
It was a sin not to laugh at the expression on Alexander’s face, but I had to hold back my laughter.
"But I love you"
Sasha managed to write, but the paper was caught in flight.

The French lesson was going extremely slowly and boringly. His whole body was already going numb, from how much he wanted to jump up and do at least something, to show at least some sign of life, and not just listen to the boring mumbling. Sighing, Pushkin could not find a place for himself and therefore fidgeted in his chair as if on pins and needles, trying to find a comfortable position.
Throwing her head back once again, she fell to the side, looking at the neighboring desks. A familiar silhouette appeared, black short hair, sharp facial features, a thoughtful look. Danzas was clearly also not interested in the lesson. Of course, he was scribbling something with a pen on paper, but Alexander was almost sure that this was definitely not related to the topic that the teacher was now explaining.
As if on autopilot, the body leaned forward a little, already looking behind the comrade. If you saw one, then you need the second. Pushchin, unlike his friends, watched every action of the teacher, how he walked around his part of the office, how he wrote something on the board. The red curls were thrown back a little, they were fixed for a while so as not to interfere with the eyes. And yet all his facial expressions showed that now it was maddeningly boring. Then the curly-haired man had an idea...