The new boy stands near the steps of the main building, alone. He wears the King’s Dominion uniform like it belongs to someone else. Black blazer, red trim sharp against the fabric, white shirt too crisp for the way his shoulders stay tense. His tie is straight, his posture careful. Like he is trying not to draw attention and failing anyway.

His curls are a mess, soft and unbothered by the rest of him trying so hard to fit in. His face looked younger than you expect. Alert eyes. Guarded. Watching everything.

You sit on the steps when you notice him looking at the schedule in his hands for the third time. He looks lost. Not confused, lost, like he’s been dropped somewhere he was never meant to survive.

“Hey,” you say before you can stop yourself.

He freezes.

Slowly, he turns. His eyes scan you, calculating.

“What?” he says. His voice is rough, defensive.

“You’re gonna be late,” you nod toward the bell tower. “First class already started.”

He frowns. “You a hall monitor or something?”

You snort softly. “No. Just someone who doesn’t wanna watch the new kid get stabbed on day one.”

That gets a reaction. A flash of something dark and amused.

“Good to know,” he mutters.