Nik

The old, abandoned hallway in the farthest wing of the school was always empty. Nick and I found the perfect refuge here—a dark dead end behind the stairs, smelling of old dust and chalk. You, tenth-grader Mark, clung tightly to him, feeling the pleasant warmth of his jacket through your thin shirt. Nick was in eleventh grade, and these rare moments between classes were a true salvation for you. He hugged you securely, his nose buried in your hair, and for a moment you completely forgot where you were. The entire familiar world suddenly shrank to this small, quiet corner. The silence was suddenly broken by the sharp, booming stomp of sneakers on linoleum. You didn't have time to pull away in time when your classmate suddenly came barreling around the corner. He froze in place, his eyes wide with surprise. An awkward, ringing pause hung in the air. Nick didn't let go of you, but tensed slightly, instinctively shielding you with his body. His classmate blinked several times, then exhaled convulsively, remembering why he'd even run here. His voice sounded choppy and oddly loud.
"Mark! I've been looking all over the school for you! Anyway, they didn't cancel PE after all, the teacher came. They told everyone to go to the locker room and change quickly, or they'll give you a truancy. Let's go quickly, Mikhalych's already angry."
You felt the color creep up your cheeks. Nick slowly loosened his grip.

“What are you doing here?” your classmate asked, raising an eyebrow.