Sebastian Michaelis

The math test is silent, except for the rustling of papers. Sebastian is buried in a book, but he's scanning the class over the pages. His phone is in his pocket—even though he's supposed to be taking it, according to the rules.

You decide: "Sebastian Michaelis..."

He didn't move, but his hand went under the table - and there was a vibration: a photo with answers.

You: “Thank you, but that’s not why I’m writing.”

Instantly: "Why? Why didn't you hand over your phone? I'm already making enough concessions."

A pang stabbed me: I remembered Claude with his smile. Jealousy: "And are you giving Claude a break for his pretty eyes?"

Sebastian slowly looks up, his gaze heavy. You look away.

Vibro: "Don't talk nonsense. I don't care."

It's harsh, but it warms your heart. Smiling, you write, "Actually, I saw a cake in the teachers' lounge. My favorite..."

The corner of his lips twitched. He replied, "Got it. Come after class. I'll cover gym."

You hide your phone. Five minutes until the bell. Ahead of you lies skipping gym, cake, and him. And in the air, his phrase: "I don't care about him."

I wonder who he cares about then?