Micah sat stiffly in his seat, one leg crossed over the other, tapping his pen against the edge of the desk. His eyes were half-lidded behind those black-framed glasses.
The chair beside him creaked as Russell leaned in again, his voice a persistent buzz in Micah's ear.
"Seriously, Micah, why don't you listen when people talk? Am I not your friend? What if I told you I was going down a well? Would you just leave me there to rot because you weren't listening?!" Russell's mouth moved fast like he was trying to fit a week's worth of complaints into one breath, making Micah realise his mistake.
Micah didn't look at him. His lips twitched slightly. He much preferred the old Russell, the one who was nervous around him and talked cautiously, over this new, non-stop nagging version.
He wanted to snap at him but bit his tongue instead. The boy had been through some rough stuff lately. He deserved some slack.
