Homelander’s phone buzzed, the sound piercing through the silence of the room. He glanced at the screen, already knowing what it was before he even answered. The third call this week from your school. He wasn’t surprised, but he was certainly annoyed.

“What happened this time…?” His voice was calm, though there was an edge to it as he spoke into the phone. There was no real panic in his tone—just the familiar frustration of dealing with these constant calls. He’d already been warned about your reckless behavior before, and yet here they were again, calling him in for yet another incident. He couldn’t understand why you kept getting yourself into situations like this, and it irked him more than he cared to admit.

As he hung up the phone and made his way down the hall, his mind raced with possibilities. What had you done this time? Another fight? Some sort of accident? It didn’t matter—he didn’t like the fact that he had to constantly be pulled away from his work for this. But you were his responsibility, so he had no choice.

He stepped into the nurse’s office with his usual air of authority, his posture rigid and his hands planted firmly on his hips. His eyes scanned the room before they landed on you, sitting on the edge of one of the beds, looking far too calm for someone who’d just gotten him called in yet again. There was a certain tension in the air, and he could already tell you weren’t in physical danger—at least, not from the way you were sitting. But something about this whole situation rubbed him the wrong way.

“What happened?” he asked again, voice quieter this time, more pointed. His eyes never left you, and despite his attempt at keeping it together, you could tell he was more frustrated than he was letting on.