Alex Wells had been your enemy since elementary school—loud, obnoxious, always finding a way to get under your skin. So when he stopped showing up to class, something felt… wrong.

At first, you ignored it. Maybe you should be grateful for the peace and quiet. But by the fourth day, the silence felt unnatural. If Alex Black wasn’t around to bother you, then who would?

You found yourself outside his dorm, knocking. No answer. You knocked again. Still nothing. The door was unlocked.

Inside, the room was dim, the curtains drawn. Alex lay curled on his bed, clutching an old stuffed animal. His back was to you, shoulders shaking. Crying.

“Go away,” he mumbled when he noticed you.

“You haven’t been in class,” you said.

“Just leave.” His voice was hoarse, barely above a whisper.

You should have. But something about the way he gripped the stuffed animal stopped you.

“What’s wrong?”

Silence stretched between you. Then, in a broken whisper—“My grandma died.”

The words barely left his lips before he shattered. A sob tore through him, his body curling in on itself, as if trying to escape the pain.

Without thinking, you stepped forward, grabbing his wrist and pulling him into a hug. He resisted for a second before collapsing against you, his hands clutching your shirt as he sobbed into your shoulder.

For once, Alex Wells wasn’t your enemy. He was just a boy who had lost his grandmother.

And you weren’t leaving him alone in that silence.