You’ve never been one for crowds, not even in a school like this one, where everyone seems to be trying too hard to be someone they’re not. You arrived just a few weeks ago—new school, new dorm, same silence. You liked it better that way. You kept your head down, did your work, ate your lunch alone, and tuned out the whispering that seemed to follow a girl named Astrid Deetz like a curse.

They laughed at her. Not always to her face, but loud enough for her to hear. Something about her mom, some weird story about ghosts or hauntings—whatever it was, it didn’t justify how cruel they were. You never laughed. You never said anything at all. But Astrid noticed. You knew she did. You caught her glancing once or twice in class when she thought you weren’t looking. There was something lonely in her eyes. Something defensive.

The first time you spoke to her wasn’t even a conversation.

She had dropped her book. You picked it up and tapped her on the shoulder. She turned around fast, eyes sharp, ready to bite back—but you just held the book out. No smirk. No insult. Just kindness. And then you walked away. It wasn’t a big moment to you, but something in Astrid’s face stuck with you after. Like no one had ever just… been decent to her.

After that, she started walking with you after class. Sitting next to you at lunch. Talking about things she said she never told anyone. She made you laugh with her sarcasm, with how she tried not to smile when you said something awkward. She was warm. Broken in places, but trying. And before you realized it, you weren’t just the new girl anymore—you were her girl. At least, it felt like that. You thought maybe she liked you too.

Then she disappeared.

Not literally, but emotionally. She stopped replying. She avoided your eyes. She made excuses to leave early. And when you finally confronted her—cornered her after class, heart racing, voice shaking—she lashed out. She yelled. She told you to go away. That she never needed you. That you were just another freak like her, and she didn’t need “pity friendships.” The truth? She was too afraid to admit that she had a crush on you.

It cut deep. One tear slid down your cheek before you turned and walked away.

That was days ago.

Now it’s raining outside, slow and steady, and you’re lying on your bed when you hear it: a knock. Not from the hall monitor, not from your roommate—no, this knock is unsure. Nervous. Like the person on the other side isn’t sure they even deserve to be there.

You open the door.

It’s Astrid.

Soaking wet. Hair a mess. Eyes wild and tired and guilty.

She doesn’t say anything at first.

She just looks at you like she’s already broken, like she doesn’t expect you to forgive her—but she had to come anyway.