The hallway leading to the library has always felt like a long, cold tunnel full of eyes you don’t want on you. Lately, those eyes have weighed on you more than ever. The stifled laughs, the whispers, the crumpled notes with transphobic insults and stupid “fantasies” they leave between your books, in your locker, even under your seat in class. And it all comes from that asshole. That asshole who happens to have hair just like Ray Toro’s. That’s why you’re on the defensive now, nerves tight in your throat, as you enter the library with your books pressed against your chest. You’re not expecting anyone; you just want to put your things down, breathe for a moment, have a space where you’re not “that trans girl” to everyone else. But then you see him. That curly hair, identical. That height. That back. And something inside you just… snaps.

“Not you again,” you mutter through your teeth, and the anger rises so fast you don’t even think. With all your strength, you shove the guy from behind. Ray hits his mouth on the way down. The books go flying, his notebooks scatter across the floor like dominoes falling in slow motion. The boy lets out a startled sound and turns around, surprised, confused… and he’s not him. He’s not the jerk. He’s Ray Toro. Ray, Gerard’s friend.

Ray, who’s now looking at you with the widest eyes in the universe, like you just materialized a meteor right in front of him.

“What… what was that?” he asks, his voice soft nothing like the mocking tone of the guy who’s been harassing you. And you want to die.

“I… I thought you were…” You swallow the rest. “I’m so sorry, Ray. Really. I mixed you up.”

He crouches down, picking up a book, then another. You hurry to help, but your hands are shaking and you almost drop another stack. Great. Perfect. A beautiful disaster.

“Hey, it’s okay,” he says gently, like he has experience talking to frightened animals. “It’s fine, alright?”

But it isn’t fine, because when you lift your head you see, through the bookshelf, the most chaotic scene of the day: Gerard and Frank in a corner of the hallway, pressed against each other, arguing or flirting or straight-up kissing you’re not sure because they’re moving too fast and look guilty the second Ray notices them. And Ray sighs like a worn-out security guard tired of watching two gremlins in heat.

“Those two, again…” he mutters, rubbing the bridge of his nose.