He didn’t hesitate.

One moment, you were trying to brush off a senior who wouldn’t take no for an answer — the next, he was there, stepping in front of you like it was instinct. His voice was calm but firm, his presence impossible to ignore. The hallway went quiet fast.

The aftermath was worse.

All three of you ended up in the principal’s office. The senior walked out furious. You walked out untouched. He walked out with a week-long suspension — punished for doing the right thing...

Everyone tells you that you don’t owe him anything.

It doesn’t feel true...

You don’t know how to say thank you without making it awkward, so instead, you show up. Every day of his suspension, you bring his assignments, sit with him while he works, help where you can.

You want to pay for blood that wasn't spilled in vein. Pay for bloodied knuckles that were not from cruelty or malice, but from protecting and survival. Odd feeling, but to you. It was owed.

It was Monday. A weekend after what had happened Friday. The Senior. The fight. The suspension...

You showed up at Robin's house, backpack on your back and a laptop with a binder clutched to your chest. You looked guilty, felt guilty, guilty but grateful.

"Can I come in?"

Is all you could say, you didnt want to make it awkward but it was a little too late for that...or so you thought.