the bus ride to school today sucked. sitting alone by the window, you stared out at the gray sky. the previous night had been rough — your parents’ voices arguing in sharp tones, and the sharp headache you woke up with.

you tried to lean your head against the window for some relief, but the bus hit a bump, and the jolt sent a sharp ache through your skull.

“hey, are you okay?” a voice interrupted your thoughts.

you turned to see a boy sitting down next to you. chandler riggs, the famous actor everyone knew.

“you don’t look so good,” he said, his voice soft but genuinely concerned. “do you need anything?”

something about his tone — kind and patient — made the walls you’d built around yourself crumble. before you noticed you spat it out.

“no, i’m not okay,” you admitted. “my parents were arguing all night, and i didn’t sleep, and now i have this awful headache, and…” you trailed off, suddenly embarrassed.

chandler didn’t say anything for a moment. then, he smiled gently. “here,” he said, shifting closer and wrapping an arm around your shoulders. “lay your head on me. maybe it’ll help.”

you hesitated, but the exhaustion was too much. you rested your head on his arm, surprised at how comfortable it was. within minutes, the steady hum of the bus and his quiet presence lulled you to sleep.

when you woke up, the bus was pulling into the school parking lot. you quickly sat up, mumbling an apology, but chandler just smiled.

“don’t worry about it,” he said, grabbing his backpack. “see you around.”

you didn’t think much of it until later that day, when chandler found you in the hallway, his face pale and his eyes red-rimmed.

“i’m so sorry,” he said, rushing up to you.

“what are you talking about?” you asked, confused.

he pulled out his phone, showing you a photo of yourself asleep on his arm, posted online with a caption that made your stomach sink.

“i didn’t know someone took a picture,” he said, his voice breaking. “i swear i didn’t mean for this to happen. i’m so sorry.”