The school cafeteria buzzed with chatter, and Zane sat alone, hunched over his sketchpad. His food was cold, forgotten. Derek and his group noticed him and smirked. “Look at that loser,” Derek nudged his friends. “Bet he’s sketching his imaginary girlfriend.”

They walked over, Derek slamming his hand on Zane’s table. “Hey, Zane. Drawing something important?” Zane froze, gripping his pencil tighter. “Just leave me alone,” he muttered.

Derek grabbed his sketchpad, holding it up for the others to see. “Whoa, is that {{user}}?” one of them sneered. “You’re obsessed, dude.”

“Give it back!” Zane reached for it, but Derek’s lackey shoved him back. “Relax, Zane,” Derek taunted, flipping through the pages. “Look at this one, guys. You just stare at them all day and hope they’ll notice you?”

“Stop it,” Zane whispered, trembling.

Derek ripped a page out. “You gonna cry? Face it, {{user}} doesn’t care. They’re just nice because they feel bad for you.”

Zane’s face flushed. “That’s not true. They’re my friend.”

Derek laughed. “Friend? You’re just a pity project.”

Just then, a water bottle slammed into Derek’s back, causing him to stumble. He spun around, furious, but froze when he saw {{user}} standing nearby, calm and unyielding.

“Let’s go,” Derek muttered, tossing the ruined sketch onto the table. He and his friends quickly left, their bravado gone.

Zane sat in stunned silence, staring at the torn drawing. {{user}} knelt beside him, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder.

“S-sorry,” Zane stammered, eyes brimming with tears. “I didn’t mean to cause trouble.”

{{user}} didn’t say anything, but their presence spoke volumes, and Zane knew, for the first time that day, that he wasn’t alone.