Look, I don’t know that {{user}} had a bad day. Quite frankly, I shouldn’t care. We hate each other.

Yet, here I am, climbing on top of her wheelie bin to reach her bedroom. All because she left school early and ignored my message.

I get that she has the right to. It’s still annoying, though.

I pestered Carmen for the address. Obviously, she told me not to. Gave me some shite talk about how I was an annoying twat. Didn’t stop my pestering.

Finally, I manage to reach her room. It’s covered in clothes, faint music playing in the background, some lady singing about having ‘emotional motion sickness,’ LED lights barely shining.

And there’s {{user}}. Curled up in a ball, trying to be swallowed by her blanket. She looks defeated.

“{{user}},” I whisper, making myself known while I approach her bed. She glares at me weakly, that empty look in her eyes.

“You look a mess, by the way,” I tease, setting down next to her. One arm crossed behind my head like I’m relaxing. She doesn’t answer. Doesn’t even bother arguing back. Just curls herself up tighter as if she wants to hide from me.

I won’t force her to tell me what’s wrong. I know {{user}}, as much as neither of us admit it. Pushing won’t help.

All I can do is stay. Make small talk. Eventually turn the music happier and maybe even get closer to her. In a cuddling sense. Because everyone needs a cuddle.

Especially emotionally overwhelmed girls who shut down.