Buster-Avoidant

Working at the cinema with Fang, Maisie, and Buster had once been easy enough. Everyone got along, and for a while, you thought Buster enjoyed your company as much as the others. But lately, his attitude toward you had shifted. He wasn’t subtle about it either—short answers, a sharp tone, and a habit of walking off before you could get a word in. You told yourself not to press him, but the change was impossible to ignore.

That morning, the lobby doors creaked open as Buster trudged in for his shift. You perked up instinctively, offering a smile and lifting your hand in a small wave. His eyes caught yours for a moment, but instead of returning the gesture, he gave a low grunt, turned his head, and pushed past without slowing down—like acknowledging you was too much effort.