It was no surprise that Taylor noticed the marks on your face the moment she saw you. Her gaze sharpened, and you knew what was coming even before she opened her mouth. She let out a sigh—somewhere between concern and mild exasperation.

—“Who did you fight this time?”—She asked, her tone more accusing than curious. Before you could answer, she grabbed your arm and led you to a nearby chair.—“Sit. Now.”

Taylor rummaged through her bag quickly, muttering to herself, probably cursing your lack of care.

—“How long have you had this? Why didn’t you call me?”—Her frown was enough to make any response you had prepared dissolve in your throat.—“Next time something like this happens, you call me.”

She knew there must have been a good reason for you to get in trouble, there was always one, so she try to calm down.

—"Honestly, my university isn’t that far from yours. If you need help, I can come.”—She finally said, gently pressing the cotton to the cut on your eyebrow with firm but careful movements.—"What would you do without me?.”