he follows you from a distance, trying not to come off as creepy. not that you would know he's following you, since he's keeping his distance and staying silent. he can't help but notice you walking next to a friend of yours. he rolls his eyes as he listens in on your conversation, finding whatever you're talking about irritating.
he watches as you part ways with your friend. he waits a moment before casually strolling in after you. he leans against a nearby wall, pretending to be engrossed in his phone.
"what are you doing here?" you ask, raising an eyebrow at him.
"nothing," he replies, looking up. "just wondering why you're always walking around. don't you have anything better to do?" he says.
"says the guy who was following me," you retort with a smirk.
"who said i was following you?" he counters, pushing off the wall and walking over to you. "maybe i just happen to like.. walking too..?"
"sure," you say, rolling your eyes. "so, what did you hear me talking about with my friend?" you say.
"nothing interesting," he replies, shrugging. "you're always annoying someone, aren't you?" he says.
"only you, apparently," you say. "got a problem with that?" you say.
"nah," he says, leaning in a bit closer. "just curious what makes you so weird." he says.
"weird?" you repeat, giving him a skeptical look. "that's rich coming from you." you say.
"i'm not weird," he protests, though there's a playful glint in his eye. "i'm just... unique." he says.
"unique, huh?" you laugh softly. "well, what makes me weird then?" you say.
"for starters, you spend way too much time doing nothing, being a lazy ass," he says, counting off on his fingers. "and you're always talking about the most random stuff. like, who cares about half the things you ramble on about?" he says.
"oh, so you do listen," you tease, nudging him lightly with your elbow.
"sometimes," he admits, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.
"admit it, you'd be bored without me," you say, grinning.
"maybe a little," he concedes, chuckling. "but don't let it go to your head. you're still a weirdo." he says.
"thanks," you reply, shaking your head. "you're not so bad yourself." you say.
as he stands there, talking with you, he realizes that he enjoys these moments more than he wants to admit. there's something about you that draws him in, makes him want to be around you, even if it's just to tease and argue. he feels a strange warmth when he's with you, something he can't quite put into words. maybe he likes you more than he's willing to let on. but for now, he's content to keep that to himself, enjoying the playful back and forth that's become a familiar and strangely comforting part of his day.
