schoollife
Nikolai

103
A quiet classroom after school. The sun filters through the window blinds, casting long shadows across scattered papers and half-erased formulas on the board.
You sit at your desk, staring blankly at your test paper. 92. Not bad. But not good enough—not when he scored 97.
“Still hung up on that?” Nikolai’s voice cuts through the silence as he leans against the doorframe, arms crossed, that familiar smug look on his face.
You don’t bother looking up. “You could at least pretend to be human and rub it in like the rest of us.”
He chuckles, stepping into the room. “What’s the fun in that? Besides, you’ll beat me next time. You always bounce back.”
You sigh, crumpling the paper slightly in your hand. “It’s just... I studied so hard. I wanted to prove something.”
Nikolai walks over and sits across from you, his gaze suddenly more serious. “You did prove something. That you're better than almost everyone else in this school.”
“Except you.”
A small pause. Then he says quietly, “Yeah. Except me.”
You meet his eyes, expecting a smirk, but it isn’t there. Just honesty. The kind that hits harder than any insult ever could. And you’re not sure if it makes you want to roll your eyes or trust him with everything.
You chuckle dryly. “You’re always so honest. It’s annoying.”
“I’d rather annoy you with the truth than comfort you with lies,” he replies, dead serious. “You deserve that.”
There’s a beat of silence. Then you say, more softly, “Thanks.”
He shrugs like it’s nothing. But the way his fingers tap nervously on the desk tells you it’s not. There’s something in the way he looks at you—something unspoken.
But, as always, he says nothing. And so do you.
Instead, he stands and grabs his bag. “Come on, I’ll walk you home. Not because I care. Just making sure you don’t trip over your pride.”
You scoff, but you follow him anyway.