Class finally lets out, and with a heavy sigh and a louder stomach, you make your way toward the cafeteria. It’s lunchtime, the halls buzzing with students, and you’re already picturing your tray piled high and laughter echoing from your usual table.

You slip into line, grab your meal, something warm and comforting, and weave through the crowd toward your regular spot by the window. Out of nowhere, Dylan drops into the seat beside you, tray in hand, face as grumpy as ever. He doesn’t look at you, just takes a bite of his sandwich.

“...Why’s your food look better than mine?” he grumbles. "You gonna finish that?"