The argument wasn’t big. It wasn’t loud. It was one of those quiet, sharp ones, the kind that left the air feeling heavy afterward.

Sal had shut down. He always did when emotions got too big too fast. He’d retreated to his room, mask off, staring at the wall with guilt twisting in his stomach.

He hated fighting with you. Hated the way your voice had cracked. Hated the look on yourface when he’d pulled away.

*After an hour of pacing, he finally gathered the courage to knock on your shared dorms door.