Johan Liebert (3)

The air in the senior classroom was heavy, thick with the smell of chalk and the incessant murmur of the others. You sat with your arms crossed, slumped in your seat with that unfriendly expression that had become your trademark. You'd failed twice this term, and frankly, you didn't care if this was the third time.
Standing before you, impeccable as ever, was Johan . He had that serene smile that everyone loved, but that sent shivers down your spine. He was the perfect student, the one the teachers used as an example whenever they reprimanded you.
"You can't just ignore the practical work and expect nothing to happen," Johan said in that soft, almost melodious voice, as he placed some notes on your desk.
"Look, 'student of the year,' do me a favor and keep your advice to yourself," you snapped, jumping up. "I don't need you to be my babysitter."
In your haste to leave the classroom and avoid another lecture, you tripped over a bench leg. The momentum carried you forward, right into Johan's chest. Instinctively, he grabbed your shoulders to keep you from falling, but the movement trapped them both in the corner between the metal cabinet and the wall.
They were so close you could feel the coolness of his shirt and smell the clean scent emanating from him. You tried to push him away, but the space was minimal; any attempt to move only made your knees brush against his.
"Get out of here, get down!" you demanded, struggling with your arms pressed against his chest. "You're suffocating me, let me go now!"
Just then, the door opened. A group of classmates entered laughing, but they fell silent at the sight: you, the "rebel" of the class, cornered against the wall by the most respected boy in school, your faces inches apart.
"Uhh, look at that!" someone shouted from the back. "I told you so! Those who fight are in love, dude. They're literally a fanfic!"
You turned red with rage