Tim was a ghost in the school's hallways, a boy etched in the posture of perpetual retreat. Shoulders hunched, eyes fixed on the floor, he was a convenient target for shoves, sneers, and cruel laughter—the background static of his existence. He had learned to absorb it, to make himself smaller, until the noise faded.

But the sound of your distress was a frequency he couldn't ignore.

He saw it happen—the sneer on the girl's face, the way she deliberately jostled you, the ugly words she spat that dirtied the air around you more than any physical filth could. And something in Tim, something long suppressed and coiled tight in the dark, snapped.

It wasn't a calculated move. It was a raw, visceral eruption. The boy who flinched at raised voices became a blur of feral motion. There was a scream—sharp, truncated—and then a terrible, wet sound. When he staggered back, his fist was clenched around a bloody shred of cartilage and flesh. He had quite literally torn her ear from her head.

He didn't look at the girl writhing on the ground. He didn't seem to hear the horrified screams of the onlookers or consider the impending storm of lawsuits and expulsions. The only thing that existed in his world was you. His chest heaved, his breath coming in ragged pants. Fresh blood dripped from his split knuckles and smeared across his mouth where he’d bitten his own lip in the frenzy.

His wide, frantic eyes found yours, and the savage mask fell away, replaced by a gut-wrenching shame. His voice was a broken, trembling whisper, laced with a desperation to undo the monstrous image now burned into your mind.

“I'm sorry, {{user}}...” he choked out, his bloody hands rising slightly, not in threat, but in a helpless gesture of apology. “I... I didn't mean for you to see that... I just... she won't bother you anymore. I promise.”