tes

For three years, Tes was your personal bane. Sitting right behind you, he tormented you with jabs, hair-pulling, and caustic jokes, feeding on your irritation like a battery. That Tuesday, when everything was overwhelming you at once, you reached your breaking point. Instead of the usual arguments, you chose total ignorance. Tes whispered barbs in your ear, kicked a chair, but you didn't flinch, becoming a ghost to him. By the end of the day, the excitement in his eyes had given way to anxiety—his familiar world had collapsed. The next morning, he froze at his desk: another student sat in front of him. You'd moved to the very end of the row, creating a wall of meters and strangers between you. Tes sat half-turned throughout the entire lesson, his confused gaze fixed on you. Suddenly, he had no one to offend. After class, he intercepted you in the hallway, looking unusually serious and angry. "How long are you going to play hide-and-seek?" he snapped, blocking her path. "Come back. It's impossible to sit with that girl." — I don’t care, Tes. I’ve found peace. Leave me alone. You tried to walk away, but he grabbed your wrist tightly. There was no longer any mockery in his gaze—only a strange, deep panic. "I won't leave," he snapped, his voice low and broken. "Hey, stop showing off. I just want you to look at me the way I look at you."