Leo's POV
The moment I stepped into the chemistry lab, the familiar scent of old textbooks and chemicals hit me, but that wasn't what made my heart race. It was him. Miles. Sitting there in the middle of the room, his head slightly bent, eyes focused on something, or maybe lost in his own world. I couldn't help but stare for a few seconds. His brown hair was messy, like he'd run his fingers through it too many times, and his long legs were stretched out under the table. He looked… relaxed. Too relaxed for someone who was supposed to be in class.
When he looked up and met my gaze, my stomach did a little flip. I smiled at him, trying to act casual, but my heart was pounding. I wasn't expecting to see him here. I wasn't sure what to say, so I went with, "What are you doing here?"
He shrugged like it was no big deal. "Just skipping class."
Typical Miles. He always had this carefree attitude, like he didn't give a damn about what anyone thought. I wasn't sure if I admired that or found it annoying. Either way, it was frustrating how effortlessly cool he seemed. I had come to drop off the practical notebooks the teacher had asked me to collect, but now, with him sitting there, I felt awkward.
I placed the notebooks on the teacher's desk, still feeling his eyes on me. Turning to him, I hesitated for a moment before asking, "Do you want to come to class with me?"
I knew it was a pointless question. If he wanted to be in class, he wouldn't be hiding out here. But to my surprise, he nodded. "Sure."
"Really?" I asked, raising an eyebrow. I couldn't help but be a little shocked. Since when was Miles so agreeable? He usually avoided class at every opportunity.
He stood up, stretching his arms above his head before lazily walking over to me. "Yeah, why not?"
I looked at him, confused. "Didn't you say you were skipping?"
He chuckled softly. "I did. But you asked, so I'm coming with you."
That was strange. When did he start doing things just because I asked him to? Miles had always been distant, especially in the last couple of years. We used to be close, practically inseparable, but that was before everything changed. Before we drifted apart. Now, I didn't know what we were. Friends? Strangers?
As we walked to class, I kept sneaking glances at him, still confused by his behavior. He caught me staring once and smirked. "What? Do I have something on my face?"
I shook my head quickly, feeling a bit embarrassed. "No, it's just… you're acting weird."
He laughed, the sound deep and warm. "Weird how?"
I shrugged, not sure how to put it into words. "I don't know. You just… agreed too easily. You never do what anyone asks."
He looked at me for a long second, his expression unreadable. Then, with a small smile, he said, "Maybe you're different."
His words hit me harder than they should've, and I didn't know why. My heart skipped a beat, but I tried to ignore it. I was probably reading too much into it. He was just being friendly… right?
When we reached the classroom, the teacher gave us a surprised look, her eyes darting between Miles and me. I could almost see the question forming in her mind: *What are they doing together?*
"Where were you?" she asked, directing her question to Miles.
"Went to the washroom," he answered smoothly, his voice calm and confident. The teacher nodded, not bothering to probe further, and Miles went to sit at his desk, which was a couple of rows behind mine.
I tried to focus on the lesson, but I could feel his presence in the room. It was like he was a magnet, drawing my attention to him. I couldn't help it. Every few minutes, I would glance over my shoulder, expecting to catch him staring, but every time I looked, he was either doodling in his notebook or looking out the window. I sighed, trying to shake off the weird feeling in my chest.
Later, during recess, my friends and I headed to the canteen like we always did. We found our usual spot and started eating, talking about random things, laughing about nothing in particular. But then I saw him again. Miles, sitting alone at the corner table, his back turned slightly to the rest of the room. He was eating slowly, not really paying attention to anyone around him.
I felt a pang of something—guilt maybe, or loneliness? I didn't like seeing him by himself like that. Without thinking, I stood up and excused myself from my friends, telling them I'd be back in a minute. I walked over to Miles' table and nudged his shoulder lightly.
"Hey, why are you sitting here alone?" I asked, trying to sound casual.
He looked up at me, his expression unreadable, and then shrugged. "I like eating alone."
"Come on," I insisted, "sit with us."
He hesitated for a moment, then stood up, grabbing his tray. We walked back to my table, and I could feel my friends staring at us. They didn't say anything at first, but I could tell they weren't thrilled. Miles wasn't exactly popular among them. I didn't understand why. He wasn't a bad guy. Sure, he kept to himself a lot, but that didn't mean he deserved to be treated like some kind of outcast.
As we all sat down and started eating, the tension slowly faded, and eventually, everyone was talking again. I tried to catch up with the conversation, but my mind kept drifting back to Miles. There was something about him today that I couldn't put my finger on.
After lunch, as we were getting ready to head back to class, Miles stopped me. "Can you come with me to the shop? (The stationary shop at school )" he asked, his tone casual.
I glanced at my friends, who were already walking away. "Uh, sure. I'll catch up with you guys later," I called after them, and they nodded without looking back.
Miles led the way out of the canteen, but instead of heading to the shop, he turned in the opposite direction. I frowned, confused. "Where are we going? The shop's that way."
He didn't answer. Instead, he grabbed my hand and kept walking, his grip firm but not too tight. My heart sped up. I wasn't sure why he was holding my hand, but I didn't pull away.
"Miles?" I called, trying to make sense of what was happening. "Where are we going?"
He didn't respond, just kept pulling me along until we reached the back of the school building, where no one ever went. It was quiet, almost eerily so. I felt a strange sense of unease settling in the pit of my stomach.
"Miles," I said again, my voice a bit shaky now. "Why did you bring me here?"
He turned to face me, his expression suddenly serious. He stepped closer, and I felt my back press against the cold wall behind me. His face was so close to mine that I could feel his breath on my skin.
"I like you," he whispered.
My mind went blank. For a few seconds, I just stood there, staring at him, not sure if I had heard him right. Then, out of nowhere, I burst out laughing. It wasn't that I didn't take him seriously; I just didn't know how else to react. Miles was not the type of person to confess his feelings like that. This had to be a joke, right?
"Miles, you—" I started, but before I could finish, he grabbed me by the collar and kissed me.
It wasn't a soft, gentle kiss. It was rough, almost desperate. I froze, my mind reeling. This couldn't be happening. But it was. His lips were on mine, his body pressed against me. For a moment, I was too shocked to do anything, but then I shoved him away with all the strength I had left, my heart racing in my chest.
"What the hell, Miles?" I shouted, my voice shaking with a mix of anger and confusion.
He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, his expression calm, too calm. "I'm sorry," he said quietly. "It was just a joke."
"A joke?" I repeated, my voice rising. "You call that a joke?"
He didn't answer. He just stared at me for a moment longer, then turned and walked away, leaving me standing there, my mind spinning. I wanted to scream, to yell at him, to demand an explanation, but the words wouldn't come.
As I watched him walk away, I couldn't help but feel a strange sense of loss. Why did it hurt so much? I didn't like him like that, right? We were just friends. Or at least, we used to be.
So why did I feel like I had just lost something important?