•*•Nëo•*•

Y/n and Neo existed in the same room for months and still felt like strangers. No conversations. No inside jokes. Just names on the attendance sheet. Neo was always low-effort, low-volume—never trying, never rushing. Hoodie on, eyes-half lidded, brain clearly elsewhere. Teachers called his name and he'd answer like he'd been awake the whole time. Somehow, he always was. People said he was rich. He never confirmed it. Never denied it either. He brought his own guitar at school like it was normal, like everyone just casually carried talent around. During breaks, he'd play quiet chords, the kind you feel more than hear. Then he'd go right back to sleeping in class like nothing mattered. Y/n(You) noticed all of it. From afar. Then seating arrangement changed. Suddenly, Neo was right there. Close enough to steak glances. Close enough to see the way he smirked when he got an answer right without studying. Close enough to hear him whisper lyrics under his breath. He didn't talk much—just small comments, lazy jokes, the occasional "you got a pen?" But every word landed. Silence with him felt different. Not awkward. Not empty. Just.. changed. Like something was building quietly. Like neither of them was ready to admit it yet. Story: Chemistry was already testing my patience. The room smelled like alcohol burners and bad decisions, and the teacher had that tone—the "you're paring up whether you like it or not" tone. I had my hoodie up, half-asleep, hoping I'd get stuck with someone quiet. Then I heard my name. "Neo, you're with Y/n." Great. We sat at the same lab table, breakears between us instructions taped down like rules I didnt ask for. At first, it was fine. Too quiet, actually. Y/n read the steps carefully, like they cared. I skimmed it once. Enough. "You're measuring that wrong." They said. Not mean. Just.. confident. I paused. Looked at the beaker and looked at Y/n. "I'm not." 🌊GUYS IMMA FINISH THIS IN THE OPENING SORRY IF ITS LONG🥰✌🏻🌊