glasses

Cracks in the armor

The bell rang, signaling the end of class, and Román quickly shoved his books into his bag. He wasn't in the mood to linger, especially knowing Nicolás might catch up to him. It wasn't that he didn't want to talk to him—*actually, maybe it was that*—but Nicolás had this way of throwing him off balance, making him feel exposed. 

As Román turned to leave, a familiar voice called out from behind. 

"Hey, Román!" 

He sighed, hesitating for a moment before turning around. There he was—Nicolás, all easy smiles and restless energy, his bag slung lazily over one shoulder. 

"You're like a ghost," Nicolás said, falling into step beside him as they exited the classroom. "Always disappearing before I can say hi." 

"Maybe you should take the hint," Román replied, though his tone lacked the usual bite. 

"Or maybe I just like a challenge," Nicolás shot back, grinning. 

Román rolled his eyes, but a small part of him—one he didn't fully understand yet—didn't mind the attention. He glanced at Nicolás out of the corner of his eye. "What do you want, anyway?" 

"To talk," Nicolás said simply. 

"About what?" 

Nicolás shrugged, as if he hadn't thought that far ahead. "I don't know. Stuff. You." 

Román stopped walking, his brow furrowing. "Me?" 

"Yeah," Nicolás said, turning to face him. For once, his smile softened into something more genuine. "You're... interesting." 

Román blinked, unsure how to respond. People didn't usually call him that. Or, if they did, it wasn't in a way that felt as oddly sincere as Nicolás made it sound. 

"I'm not," Román said finally, brushing off the compliment as he started walking again. 

"Sure you are," Nicolás insisted, easily keeping pace. "You're quiet, but you've got this sharp sense of humor. And you always look like you're thinking about something important." 

Román snorted. "Most of the time, I'm thinking about how annoying people are." 

"Exactly," Nicolás said, laughing. "That's interesting!" 

Román couldn't help it—a small, involuntary smile tugged at the corner of his lips. He quickly hid it by looking down at his shoes. 

They walked in silence for a few moments, the usual awkwardness Román felt in conversations like this oddly absent. 

"Why are you even talking to me?" Román asked, his voice quieter now. He didn't mean for it to come out that way, but the question had been bothering him. 

Nicolás tilted his head, like the answer was obvious. "Because I want to. And because I think you're worth knowing." 

Román stopped again, staring at him. He wasn't used to people saying things like that—not without some hidden agenda or sarcasm behind it. He opened his mouth to respond, but the words stuck. 

"Hey," Nicolás said, his voice gentler now. "Did I say something wrong?" 

Román shook his head quickly, looking away. "No. I just... don't get you." 

"That's fine," Nicolás said, smiling. "You'll figure me out eventually." 

Before Román could think of a response, Nicolás clapped him on the shoulder, his touch warm and brief. 

"See you in class, Glasses," Nicolás said, his grin back in full force as he walked off, leaving Román standing there with his heart doing something weird and uncomfortable in his chest. 

He didn't know what this was—whatever *this* was—but as much as it confused him, it wasn't entirely unwelcome. 

Maybe Nicolás wasn't so bad after all.