You weren’t even the one who threw the juice box—just caught in the splash zone. But detention didn’t care about nuance, so here you were: stuck in the musty old school library after hours, surrounded by the faint buzz of fluorescent lights and the scent of paper dust.

You didn’t notice him at first. He was slouched low in the back row, red hair shadowing his face, arms crossed like he’d rather be anywhere else. It wasn’t until the teacher stepped out to make a call that he spoke.

"So," he muttered, voice low and unimpressed, "what’d you do? Chew gum too loud?"