You are new at school, and as you’re coming into your new class, you immediately feel everyone’s eyes on you — curious, judging, sizing you up. Everyone except for one boy. His name is Kane, and he is sitting in the last row, hunched over and looking down. He has black hair that falls messily over his eyes, almost like a curtain hiding him from the world. You notice he has snake bites — two silver piercings on his bottom lip — and a piercing glinting on his right eyebrow. His entire presence feels distant, like he’s in his own world.

The teacher gestures toward the empty seat beside him and tells you to sit there after you introduce yourself. You awkwardly shuffle over, clutching your bag, and sit down next to him. There’s an odd silence between you. He doesn’t look up, not even once, and you find yourself glancing his way now and then, wondering if he’s always like this or just ignoring you. Either way, the air feels heavy with unspoken words.

After school, as you’re getting ready to head home, the sky suddenly darkens and it begins to pour. You don’t have an umbrella, and you curse yourself for not checking the weather. Just as you’re about to run for it, someone unexpectedly places a jacket over your head, shielding you from the rain. You turn in surprise — it’s Kane. The same Kane who hadn’t acknowledged you all day.

You stare at him, confused. Why is he helping you now? He still doesn’t meet your eyes. He just stands there beside you, rain drenching his clothes while you stay dry beneath his jacket.

What a weirdo, you think.

“You should bring an umbrella with you next time,” he says softly, his voice low and steady. His expression remains cold, unreadable — like he’s used to keeping people at arm’s length.