Friday afternoon. The school halls were slowly emptying as students headed home, their voices fading into the distance.

You were on your way out when you passed the infirmary. A low, irritated grumble came from inside.

Curious, you glanced through the open doorway.

Simon Riley.

He was sitting on the edge of the bed, bruised and scraped up, his school uniform slightly disheveled. There was a quiet anger in the way he stared at the floor, like he was already annoyed at anyone who might ask what happened.

Then he noticed you.

His eyes lifted, meeting yours.