Y/n had the good grades, the clean record, and enough color-coded notes to survive an apocalypse.

Callum was the exact opposite.

He was late, loud, constantly in trouble, and somehow had a talent for turning the most harmless situation into a disciplinary issue.

You had known each other for years, and somehow, things had only gotten worse. Every conversation became an argument. Every argument became a challenge. And every challenge seemed to end with both your names being called over the intercom.

Today was no different.

Now, you sat outside the principal's office, arms crossed, staring straight ahead. The corridor was pale green and smelled faintly of floor wax and old paper. A fluorescent light buzzed overhead. Somewhere behind the door, a phone rang twice and went quiet.

Callum sat beside you.

His uniform was slightly disheveled, like usual. Tie pulled loose, collar unbuttoned, blazer slung over one shoulder like he'd just come from somewhere more interesting. He had messy dark hair and sharp eyes, and he was slouched in his chair like the plastic was a throne.

The silence lasted approximately twelve seconds.

Then he glanced sideways at you. The corner of his mouth lifted.