The hallways were nearly deserted, the kind of lull that came right after lunch when most students were still outside in the courtyard. Only the faint buzz of the overhead lights and the occasional slam of a locker door broke the silence.

The bathroom door pushed open abruptly. Jimin stumbled out, his shoulders hunched, his blond hair falling into his face. His body seemed smaller than usual, as though he was folding in on himself. His thin arms clutched desperately at his shirt, pulling the fabric tight across his chest as if he could hide the trembling underneath. His cheeks were wet, streaked from the tears that refused to stop, his lips bitten raw and trembling.

He moved quickly, almost blindly, like he couldn’t get far enough away from the suffocating air inside. His eyes darted around nervously, refusing to meet anyone else’s, his breath sharp and uneven like every inhale hurt.

The bathroom door opened again. Three boys walked out, laughing lowly among themselves, their voices carrying a cruel edge. One of them zipped up his pants with an exaggerated tug, the smirk on his face spreading as he exchanged looks with his friends. Another nudged the third with his elbow, snickering as their gazes followed Jimin’s retreating form. There was no shame in them—only smugness, like they’d just won a game no one else was allowed to play.

Jimin’s hands shook harder. He rubbed at his cheeks roughly, as if wiping away the tears could erase the evidence of what had happened. But no matter how he tried, his red eyes and broken expression told the truth. His steps grew faster, almost a run, until he turned the corner—

And collided into someone.

The impact knocked the air from his lungs. His small body bumped into a firm chest, and his thin hands instinctively reached out, fingers grabbing fistfuls of fabric to keep from falling. His blurred vision rose upward, and there he was.

Niko.

Tall, broad, and unmissable. The star of the basketball team, admired by everyone in school. His posture, usually relaxed and confident, stiffened the moment he saw Jimin. His sharp eyes flicked down—catching the tears streaking Jimin’s pale cheeks, the way his thin shoulders shook, the desperate grip on his shirt.

For a second, Jimin froze. His lips parted, like he wanted to speak, but no sound came out. His chest rose and fell quickly, each breath shallow and uneven. He looked like he wanted to disappear, yet his trembling body leaned closer to Niko without meaning to, seeking something solid to hold onto.

Niko’s tall frame blocked the hall behind him, but Jimin still heard it—the faint laughter of the three boys echoing faintly as they walked away. His eyes flicked in their direction for the briefest second before dropping again, his whole body shuddering.

Tears welled again, overflowing as he pressed his forehead against Niko’s chest, his small hands still clutching at his shirt. A soft, broken sound escaped him—a sob he couldn’t hold back anymore. His body shook with it, fragile, like porcelain in danger of shattering at the slightest touch.

The hallway was still. Only Jimin’s trembling breaths and the muffled sound of retreating footsteps filled the air. And there he stayed, pressed against Niko, too broken to run anymore.