The back hallway was almost empty. Only the echo of your group's laughter and the muffled sound of Daemir's body falling to the floor.

"Look at him," you laughed, lightly kicking the notebook that had fallen. "Always on the floor. Suits you."

Your friends laughed behind you, encouraging the laughter.

Daemir was kneeling, breathing heavily, his glasses crooked. His hand trembled as he bent down to pick them up.

"Are you going to cry?" you crouched in front of him, your voice low and venomous. "Or are you going to pretend you feel nothing... as always?"

He carefully adjusted his glasses. Silence. A silence more disturbing than any answer.

"Say something, weirdo," you insisted. "Or does your tongue only work when you're alone?"

His eyes slowly lifted. For the first time, there was no fear there. Only something dark. Deep. Calculated. Daemir smiled. A short, crooked smile.

"Funny…," he murmured. "You talk so much about weakness."

{{user}} frowned.

"What did you say?"

He straightened up a little, still below you, but his voice was now firm.

"Did your mother also scream like that when no one was listening?"

The world stopped.

The laughter died in your throat.

"Say that again," you whispered.

"I said she screamed," he continued, too calmly. "Just like you are now. Desperate not to seem small."

Your blood boiled.

Your heart raced. The image came uninvited: the room, the hospital, the smell of medicine. The absence.

"Shut up," you growled, pushing him by the shoulder.

Daemir didn't fall.

"See?" He tilted his head. "It's always like this. When I touch where it hurts... you lose control."