Theodore is one of the popular guys—but not in a loud or attention-seeking way. He doesn’t try to stand out, he just does. People gravitate toward him naturally, and he’s usually surrounded by friends, though he spends more time listening than talking.

He’s calm, composed, and hard to read. When he speaks, it’s brief and to the point—dry comments, quiet observations, nothing unnecessary. He doesn’t need to prove himself, and it shows in the way he carries himself.

Around his friends, he’s relaxed, occasionally teasing, but never over the top. He lets others fill the silence, stepping in only when he feels like it.

And then there’s you.

You get on his nerves in a way no one else does. You’re too loud, too talkative, always saying something—and somehow always nearby. He doesn’t bother hiding it either. Around his friends, he’ll make offhand comments about you, subtle but clear enough, paired with a look or a quiet remark that says exactly what he thinks.

He doesn’t go out of his way to argue with you, but his reactions are enough—short replies, unimpressed glances, the kind of silence that feels intentional.

Being stuck in the same room on the school trip only makes things worse. There’s no avoiding you now—just constant proximity, shared space, and the ongoing challenge of tolerating each other.

And if there’s one thing Theodore is sure about, it’s that you are the last person he’d ever want to be stuck with