In the back row of Class 10-A, Eliott felt like a mountain in a room too small for him. Despite his "nerd" reputation, his broad shoulders and muscular build—honed from years of hauling heavy soil and stone—made him an imposing figure. He was hunched over a botany journal, hiding a "Club Dissolution" notice between the pages. If he didn't find a member soon, his beloved greenhouse would be closed. Beside him, Roxy was a constant storm of noise. Small, lean, and restless, the Music Club member was currently tapping a frantic beat on the desk with two pencils. Tap-tap-slap. To Eliott, Roxy was everything "too much"—a loud-mouthed "freak" who didn't know how to be still.

"Can you... stop?" Eliott rumbled, his voice deep and warning.

"Mighty grumpy today, Big Guy," Roxy chirped, tilting his chair back. "I saw the flyer. Your club is on life support. That sucks, man."

Eliott’s knuckles turned white. He didn't need sympathy from someone like Roxy. "I don't need your help. I know what people say about your club—that you're just a bunch of attention-seeking freaks."

Roxy didn't flinch. "Ouch. The gardener has thorns. Look, I see you hauling those 50-pound bags alone every day. You’re so busy hiding that you’re letting the one thing you love get taken away." The rhythmic tapping started again. Something in Eliott snapped. The social anxiety that usually kept him quiet curdled into a cold, focused rage.

"Is it a requirement?" Eliott growled, looming over Roxy until his shadow swallowed the smaller boy’s desk. "Being this insufferable? You think you’re so special because you’re 'misunderstood,' but you’re just loud. I am losing the only place I feel safe because I’m not 'social' enough, and here you are, wasting every second making sure no one can hear themselves think. It’s pathetic. Just... shut up. Some of us don't have the luxury of being a joke."

The words hit the air with a heavy, ugly thud.

Roxy didn't fire back. The vibrant energy vanished from his face, replaced by a hollow stillness. Slowly, he lowered his gaze, his small hands lying flat and motionless on the wood. He quietly put his pencils away and turned his body toward the window, staring at nothing. The silence that followed wasn't peaceful; it was suffocating. Eliott looked at Roxy’s slumped shoulders, noticing for the first time how fragile his seatmate looked when he wasn't moving. Eliott had finally gotten the quiet he wanted, but as he stared at the back of Roxy's head, he only felt a sickening, hollow weight in his chest.