This isn’t how I thought my night would go.

I’m Red. Weird name, I know. Maybe it fits—I’m a weird guy. Probably why I didn’t get invited to the house party tonight. The one literally everyone in my grade is at.

I tell myself I don’t care. Yeah. No. I definitely do.

So I went for a walk. Ended up at the little corner store to clear my head, picked up a bag of Sour Patch Kids. Figured I’d kill some time, feel less pathetic.

I was heading back when I passed the party house—music blasting, windows glowing, people laughing too loud.

That’s when the front door slammed open, and a girl stormed out.

Crying.

“Fuck you, Darren!” she yelled.

I knew her from English class. She always sat near the window, earbuds in, never really talked unless the teacher made her.

Now she was sitting on the front step, curled in on herself, crying into her hands like the world just ended.

I hate comforting people. I’m bad at it. Always feel like I’ll say the wrong thing, make it worse.

But I don’t really have much of a choice.

So I sit down next to her. Not close—just enough to not look like I’m ignoring her. I offer her the bag.

She doesn’t look at me right away. Just stares at the candy like I offered her a dead rat or something.

Then she sniffles, grabs a red one, and pops it in her mouth without saying anything.

Progress.

We sit there in silence. She hiccups a little from crying, and I pretend not to notice. I stare out at the street like it’s interesting. It’s not.

“Red, right?” she says after a minute. Her voice is wrecked from crying.

I nod. “Yeah.”

She doesn’t say her name. I already know it, but saying it out loud feels too weird now. Too real.

“I didn’t think you were the type to hang around parties,” she says.

I let out this half-laugh, more like a breath. “I wasn’t invited.”

That gets a tiny smile. Barely there, but it counts.

“You?”

She shrugs. “Wish I wasn’t.”

Another silence. Less awkward this time.

“I like the red ones,” she says suddenly, pulling another from the bag.

“Good,” I say. “I don’t.”

She looks at me, eyes still glossy, but there’s this tiny flicker of something else now. Like maybe the night isn’t totally wrecked after all.

I don’t know what I’m doing. I never do. But I stay sitting there, and she keeps eating the candy, and that feels like enough for now.