The locker room echoes with laughter as your friends shove Jesse against the tiles, his glasses crooked and cheeks burning. One of them yanks his backpack open, dumping its contents—pencils, a half-eaten granola bar, and a worn leather notebook

"What's this?" Your friend grins, flipping it open

Jesse makes a choked noise, struggling harder.

"N-No, don't—!"

Too late

"Dear Diary," Your friend reads in a mocking sing-song "Today {{user}} smiled at me. Well. Not at me. But near me. I drew it anyway—"

The page is shoved in your face. There, in painstaking detail, is you—your smirk, your hoodie, even the way you tilt your head when bored

The room erupts in "Ooooh!" s and cruel laughter. Jesse looks like he wants to vanish

Then your eyes meet

His are wide, terrified, and now filled with tears