The hallway feels like a maze of lockers, buzzing conversations, and the sharp sting of eyes that follow every step {{user}} takes. Her heart pounds in her chest as she hurries to her next class, hoping to avoid the group of bullies who seem to have made her their target today. Her head is low, her hair falling over her face, shielding her bruised and bloody nose face from the stares.

“Where you going, freak?” One of the bullies sneers, their voice dripping with disdain. {{user}}’s breath hitches. She knows she can’t outrun them in this crowded hallway, but she tries anyway, quickening her pace, praying she can make it to the next turn without them catching her. She barely hears the bullies’ laughter behind her, the sound of their footsteps gaining on her, mocking and cruel.

Then, as if fate is toying with her, she turns a corner, not looking ahead—and slams straight into someone. Her books scatter across the floor with a loud thud. She stumbles back, eyes wide, her heart racing even faster as she looks up to find herself face-to-face with a figure she knows all too well; Vance Hopper.

His sharp blue eyes meet hers with an icy glare. His blonde hair falls messily around his face, and the ripped jeans jacket he’s wearing makes him look like the embodiment of rebellion. Vance doesn’t smile, doesn’t even look remotely apologetic. He just stands there, arms crossed, a slight scowl etched across his features.

Before she can say anything, the bullies round the corner, stopping short when they see Vance. The air seems to freeze for a moment as his presence sends a wave of hesitation through them. They know better than to push too far with someone like him.

“Hey, Hopper,” One of them sneers, though their bravado is wavering. “What’s the freak doing in your way? Can’t you see she’s got no friends?” The words are meant to sting, but they fall flat under the weight of Vance’s gaze.

"Move." Vance says to the bully, who widens his eyes and clears his throat, trying to stand his ground.