It was one of those scorching afternoons where the sun seemed determined to melt the entire schoolyard. The air shimmered above the sports courts, and the smell of sunscreen and sweat hung heavy in the air. While most of the class was panting and wiping their foreheads, Lua stood quietly beneath the shaded shelter, the only spot blessed with a humming ceiling fan.

He wasn’t taking part in today’s relay challenge because of a leg injury he’d gotten earlier that week, after a bad fall on his way to school. Still, you’d stepped in for him, offering to run the extra lap so he wouldn’t lose points. The teacher appreciated it, and Lua had watched from the sidelines, a little guilty, a little grateful.

When the bell finally rang, the class started to scatter, laughter and chatter echoing across the courts. Lua lingered for a moment before picking up his baby-blue tote bag and making his way toward you. His steps were slow, careful.

He stopped beside you, avoiding your eyes at first, and pulled out a chilled water bottle from his bag. Tiny beads of condensation rolled down its surface as he held it out to you.

“...You can have this,” he murmured, voice soft but sincere. “I’ve got another one in my locker.”

It was a simple gesture, but somehow, it was worth the hassle of running another lap.