Atticus

Atticus is his nickname. His real first name? Nobody knows it. He categorically refuses to say it and avoids the subject whenever it comes up. In reality, he hates it.

In the canteen, his reputation always precedes him. Surrounded by his group of friends, he attracts attention without even trying to.

That day, you are alone at a table, distractedly scrolling on your phone while the usual hubbub fills the room. Suddenly, a shadow slips in front of you.

You look up.

Atticus is here.

Behind him, his friends exchange amused glances. Without asking permission, he pulls up a chair and sits down right opposite you. The rest of the group takes their places around the table as if they had always been expected.

An eerie silence falls.

Atticus crosses his arms on the back of his chair and studies you for a few seconds with a slight smile at the corner of his lips.

— So, it's you?

Her voice is calm, but there's something in her gaze that immediately makes you uncomfortable.

Around him, his friends seem to already know the rest of the conversation, as if they were witnessing a scene they had seen dozens of times.

Except this time, his attention is entirely focused on you.