Victor Criss⁰¹

It was almost ten in the morning, but the classroom was already filled with noise. The Bowers Gang wasted no time: laughter, shoving, and whispers at medium volume that easily crossed the line of respect. Among them, Victor Criss was the most noticeable. He laughed loudly, leaning back in his chair, completely ignoring the teacher's tense gaze.

—"Victor Criss!" she blurted "I already told you to stop talking, didn't I? Come and sit in the front row where I can see you."

Victor muttered something under his breath. He didn't want to move, didn't want to leave his friends. But he did. He shuffled his feet, reluctantly picked up his things, and walked to the front as if marching in a boring parade.

He sat next to you, mentally thinking you were like those who seem like part of the furniture. The class continued as if nothing had happened, but Victor wasn't paying attention. His bored gaze eventually shifted to his classmate. Something about you caught his attention.