Flicker Pain

[2] pencils

I learned his name was Conrad.

He liked to scowl, and even when he talked his lips were straight as a ruler. I couldn't recall a time I saw him smile, or even see the corners of his lips twitch during that first class. That was a difficult feat to accomplish; our teacher – Mrs. Jones – loved telling jokes.

Brooding emanated from his slumped figure, his back curving into a crescent shape whenever he discreetly looked at his phone. Every few moments, his eyes would dart up to the Mrs. Jones, making sure he hadn't been caught. And once he was sure – he'd lower those swirling brown eyes of his back down.

It was like watching a deer caught in headlights, only he continued to run in front of them over and over again. He didn't learn.

Mrs. Jones began handing out packets, and as she reached our table I watched Conrad, He didn't look up. I took mine and carefully pushed his towards him, jumping slightly when he snatched it from my hands.

"Thanks."

"No problem."

He didn't look up.

That marked the end of our first interaction. We neither spoke nor glanced at each other for the rest of class, even when we packed up to leave. Conrad shoved his belongings into his bag and threw on his coat without much care. I watched as he walked out of the classroom, leaving me fascinated in his wake.

I followed, but drifted from his path as I made my way down towards the buses. I climbed inside and sat – as usual – alone by the window. I put in my earplugs, and drowned out all the other noise with my music.

After all – normality was a rule to be obeyed – not a line to cross over at the littlest occurrences.

* * *

The next day, he asked for a pencil. We'd just started writing down notes, and his narrow eyes flickered to me.

"Can I borrow a pencil of yours?"

I wondered how he'd managed to take it throughout the whole morning without a pencil, but nonetheless – I handed him one. He took it from my hand and scrawled his name on the paper, giving me a thin, yet grateful smile.

"Thanks."

"No problem."

Like the day before, we went back into our separate worlds. However – this time – a collision was inevitable, for Mrs. Jones announced:

"For this small activity, you will be working with a partner."

Most everyone paired up with the person closest to them, or with a friend from across the room. The whole time, Conrad didn't move. Neither did I. I felt his eyes on me as I went back to my own paper, starting the activity by myself. I didn't mind if he didn't want to work with me. I worked better alone, too.

"Do you...want to be partners?" He asked, almost reluctantly.

"Um, sure," I lifted my head, and gave him a small smile, "Do you want to work on that side while I do this one?"

"Sure. Sounds good," He muttered.

We immersed ourselves into the activity, speaking to each other only when absolutely necessary. Our lack of conversation proved efficient when we finished before everyone else, and silently pulled out our phones to pass the time.

It was awkward and uncomfortable, and there was no doubt about that.

But that didn't bother me as much as it should've.

* * *