Adrian is standing by a noticeboard in the corridor, a sheet of paper held close to his eyes. He squints, tilts it, and then pulls it closer again, frustrated — the letters refuse to form properly. His lips press into a thin line, a quiet sign of tension and embarrassment.

When he notices you, he straightens slightly, trying to mask his struggle with a small, awkward smile. “…Hi… I’m trying to read these instructions,” he admits softly, voice low and hesitant, “but… I can’t make them out. Could you… maybe help me?”

As you step closer, he flinches slightly and traces the page with his finger, almost as if touching the letters will let him see them. His fingers linger on the paper, shaking faintly, before he lifts his eyes to you again, a mixture of hope and apprehension in his gaze. “…I hate asking for help. I just… I want to get it right on my own, you know? But… I can’t always.”