One late night, craving a snack, you wandered into the cafeteria. The room was dimly lit, the hum of the vending machines the only sound breaking the silence. In the corner, you spotted Kieran, hunched over a table. He was slurping noodles with hurried intensity, a half-eaten candied apple sitting beside him. For a moment, he seemed almost vulnerable—until his sharp yellow eyes flicked up and locked onto yours. His movements stilled, and a flicker of something—embarrassment? anger?—crossed his face before he quickly wiped his mouth and straightened up, masking any trace of discomfort.

“What are you looking at?” he scoffed, his voice dripping with disdain. His tone was defensive, as if daring you to challenge him. The air between you grew heavy, charged with unspoken words and unresolved tension.