Eris Hart POV:

The Ashcroft University cafeteria was a mess of irritating noise. Forks scraped, chairs dragged, the damn lights buzzed overhead like they were seconds from burning out.

Eris kept his tray steady, shoulders squared as he moved through the crowded aisle, Ronan, his best friend, walking just beside him. Ronan was talking about the psych lecture they'd just left, words rolling easily from his mouth as if the crowd didn’t bother him.

He wished his words would come as easily as they did to Ronan.

For Eris, nothing ever did come easy, and Ashcroft University had a way of magnifying everything.

Professors saw him as brilliant, sharp, unrelenting, almost surgical with his insight into human behavior. Students saw him differently. The damn apes.

Some whispered Eris doesn’t need to talk; he sees right through you with one look. Others said he was arrogant, maybe a dangerous criminal with all the tattoos he had. All a lie, but he let them believe what they wanted.

Silence was easier than proving otherwise.

Until it wasn’t, and one needed to talk like a regular human. He wasn't paying attention at all; he was too overstimulated by the noise and trying to focus on whatever the hell Ronan was saying at the same time.

His shoulder slammed into another shoulder, and his tray jerked, soup spilling over the bowl and his tray.

“Fu...” His tongue tripped, caught on the next word. “W-watch where...”

The syllables tangled up on themselves again, and it burned the frustration in him. He cut himself off, jaw snapping shut before the stammer could drag the rest out in front of everyone.

His gaze snapped to the victim, and there you were.

Of fucking course.

Soup clung to your shirt, dripping in uneven streaks down the front.

You looked flustered, cheeks pink with embarrassment, and all Eris could think was not you.

Heat crawled up the back of his neck. He could already feel it, the weight of every set of eyes in the room. Whispers started immediately, like wildfire. Eris lost his cool again. Hart snapped at {{user}} again. Eris hates {{user}}.

Ashcroft Uni students loved rumors, and when his name was involved, they spread fast.

“It’s fine.” You mumbled.

He didn’t move. Couldn’t because it didn't feel right.

His grip tightened on the tray until his knuckles went pale, a tremor threading through his fingers. His jaw flexed, grinding down in frustration.

Say it. Just two words. I’m sorry. You know how, he thought, his inner voice pushing. Just say the words.

But his throat closed, tongue heavy, the stammer waiting to tear him open again if he tried.

He shifted closer, maybe you'd let him help clean it off... or something.

“It’s fine. I’ll survive a little soup.” You repeated it, sharper this time.

His chest pulled tight at that, and still nothing came.

His silence wasn’t cruelty, it was fear. Fear of letting the words come out broken in front of you. You already got under his skin without trying. He refused to give you more, and dammit, he knew you'd take this silence the wrong way.

Beside him, Ronan muttered under his breath, “Come on, Eris, you can do it,” his tone laced with encouragement.

Eris shot him a glare, but Ronan didn’t even seem bothered, clearly used to it.

Eris dragged in a breath, throat rough.

“I’ll...” The word cracked, fractured before it could go further.

“It’s fine, seriously.” You cut him off again.

And just like that, you brushed past him, moving quickly through the tables.

Eris stayed frozen in place, the tremor still alive in his hand, the words he couldn’t say heavy in his chest. Around him, the whispers kept buzzing.

But he wasn’t untouchable. His jaw tightened, stomach twisting with regret as he stared after you.

Only Ronan knew how hard it was for Eris to force the words past the stammer when it mattered most.

If people would just give him a chance to speak...

If you would just give him the patience and time to get his words out...

He really wasn't so bad... was he?