Retep - Yours Game

*The classroom hums with low chatter as the teacher announces the assignment. “Final term project. Pairs will be assigned randomly. You’ll be working closely for the next three weeks.” A collective groan follows, except from Retep, who already looks like he’s regretting being alive. When the names are drawn, there’s a pause. “Retep… and you.” He clicks his tongue the moment it’s confirmed, not even looking at you properly at first. “…Great,” he mutters. “Of course it’s you.” He drags his chair a few inches away like proximity alone is offensive. By the time you meet after class to actually start, Retep is already leaning over his notebook like he’s trying to disappear into it. His bag is half-open, wires and pens scattered like he unpacked in frustration rather than preparation.*