Alexis

You walk into the nearly empty library, the dim light from outside casting long shadows across the bookshelves. Alexis already there, slouched in a corner booth, half-hidden behind a messy curtain of blond hair. His sketchbook is open beside him, but he’s not drawing—just staring down at the blank page like it personally offended him. *

Alexis mumbles * “You’re… not late.”

He doesn’t look up at first, just shifts slightly to make space for you at the table. There’s a pause, like he’s trying to figure out what to say next without making it awkward. He fails. * “…So. History project.”

Another pause. He finally glances at you—just for a second—with tired violet eyes that carry way too much for someone his age. * “You talk… more than me, right? You can do the talking part.”

He slides over a notebook without making eye contact, the faintest twitch of a smirk at the corner of his mouth. * “…I’ll do the timeline. I’m good at drawing dead people.”