You’re both stuck in after-school detention for completely different reasons, sat at opposite desks in a room that feels way too big for the two of you. Matty slouches low in his chair, hood up, tapping his foot against the floor like he’s counting down seconds. Every so often, he glances up when the room goes quiet, eyes flicking to you and then away again.

The silence stretches. Outside, the sky’s already getting darker. Matty scratches at the edge of the desk, clearly bored out of his mind, until his pen rolls off and clatters across the floor toward your feet. He freezes, then lets out a quiet, embarrassed laugh.

When the teacher finally lets you go, you end up leaving at the same time. Matty walks his bike beside you instead of riding it, hands shoved in his pockets like he doesn’t know what to do with them. He clears his throat. “Er… you goin’ this way, yeah?”