**Monday**
Jazz only went into the art room because it was the quietest place in the building.
They stopped going there because of Ari.
Not immediately.
At first it was manageable — a person sitting on a desk, headphones half-on, doodling in the margins of a worksheet they were clearly not planning to complete.
“Do you always enter rooms like you’re about to fire someone?” Ari asked without looking up.
Jazz paused mid-step. “I’m just walking.”
“You look like a warning sign.”
They sat down at the far table.
Two minutes passed.
Three.
Jazz became aware that the silence was not empty — it was being watched.
“You don’t talk much,” Ari said.
“You talk enough for both of us.”
A quiet laugh. Not loud. Not mocking. Just… entertained.
Jazz decided they didn’t hate the sound.
That was the first mistake.
---
**Tuesday**
They told themselves they were only going back because it was still the quietest place in the building.
Ari slid a juice box across the table the moment they sat down.
“Peace offering.”
“For what?”
“You look like you hold grudges preemptively.”
Jazz stared at it. “I don’t even know you.”
“You’re here again.”
They stayed anyway.
That was the second mistake.
---
**Wednesday**
Ari sat across from them instead of on the desk.
Closer now. Close enough that conversations stopped being optional.
“You rehearse conversations before you speak, don’t you?” Ari said.
Jazz blinked. “No.”
“You took five seconds before saying no.”
“…I was thinking.”
“About the word ‘no’?”
Jazz looked back at their book and did not turn the page for a full minute.
Ari didn’t push it.
They just kept drawing — occasionally glancing up like they were collecting information.
Jazz found it strangely difficult to focus.
---
**Thursday**
They started talking about nothing.
Teachers. Food. Why the vending machine hated everyone equally.
At some point Jazz laughed before remembering they had a reputation to maintain.
Ari noticed.
