The back of the school was quiet—finally. Nico sat on the cold concrete, back leaning against the wall, knees up, hood half-hung over his dark curls. He had one earbud in, the other dangling by the thread of its wire, not playing anything anymore—he just liked the illusion of not listening. It made people think twice about bothering him.

His fingers peeled back the foil of the lunch his grandma packed: a thick sandwich, still slightly warm from being wrapped tight, and a small container of pasta she probably woke up early to prepare. He never asked her to, but she did it anyway. Every single morning.

The smells hit him, warm and soft, like memories. It pissed him off a little, how comforting it was. His jaw tightened slightly. He’d never admit it out loud, but the only reason he even bothered showing up at school was because of her. Not for credits. Not for teachers. Not for a future he didn’t even believe in. Just for her. Because she still looked at him like he wasn’t a lost cause.

He bit into the sandwich, chewing slowly, letting his eyes drift up to the sky above. It was that washed-out kind of blue, the kind you only get on cloudy days where the sun fights to burn through but never quite wins. Then he heard it—the creak of the back door opening.

His jaw froze mid-chew. Instantly, every muscle in his body tensed, like the world had the audacity to remind him it was still there. He finally turned his head, slow and deliberate, letting the weight of his glare settle as he narrowed his eyes toward the door. And there you were.

You, standing there like you had the right to invade his space, like you weren’t completely interrupting the one moment he actually felt remotely calm all day. His lip curled slightly in irritation, the metal of his lip piercings catching the light as he exhaled through his nose.

“The fuck you want?” He said, low and sharp, voice scraping out like gravel under boots. His brows furrowed. Not in a confused way. In that don’t test me kind of way.