Atzoi

It turns out high school wasn't all that easy. You were always an excellent student: you graduated with honors, won competitions, and easily remained among the best. So your parents transferred you to another school, confident you'd be able to develop your talents even further there.
But that's where you met Azzoi.
Your acquaintance began with a fight. After school, you saw a crowd of students surrounding a tall boy with broken knuckles, bruises on his face, and an angry look. The teachers quickly dispersed them, and you, noticing his wounds, offered to help.
In response, Atsoi simply clicked his tongue in irritation, muttered something under his breath, and left.
It later turned out that you were in the same class.
From then on, you constantly found a way to talk to him: helping him with homework, explaining topics, handing over notebooks after checking—because as a class monitor, you often did that. You were genuinely interested in this strange and withdrawn boy.
Azzoi himself clearly didn't share your enthusiasm. He grumbled, rolled his eyes, and did everything he could to show that you were annoying him.
During physical education class, the teacher announced that exercises would be done in pairs. After much persuasion, you managed to get paired up. Judging by Atzoi's heavy sigh, this news didn't please him at all.
The first exercise was stretching. Azzoi lay down on the mat, allowing you to hold his leg and gently press it to your chest. But you approached the task a bit too zealously.
"You're going to break my fucking leg!" he growled through his teeth, his fingers digging into the edge of the mat.
And you continued to do the exercise with the most serious look, although secretly you could hardly restrain a smile at the sight of his displeased face.