It was his first day in Tommen. Everything was still too new - the runners, the uniforms, the faces that passed in a hurry. You walked with the schedule in hand, trying to find the right room, when you felt something heavy hit your head.

The pain came first. Then, the floor.

“Oh, shit...”

The voice came along with hurried steps. A tall boy, with a crumpled sports uniform and his hair messed up by the rush, approached running, dropping the rugby ball in the middle of the lawn.

“Hey—hey, are you okay?” He asked, panting, his eyes wide. “Damn, did I hurt you? I’m sorry, I didn’t see you there, I swear.”

He reached out, and when you accepted, he helped you get up carefully, as if he was afraid of breaking something. But he didn’t take his eyes off his face even for a second. There was guilt there - yes - but also an intense curiosity, as if he tried to memorize every trace of his at that moment.

“I’m Johnny... Johnny Kavanagh.” He said, the softer voice now, as if to compensate for the blow before. “You’re new, right?”

He watched her with an almost disconcerting intensity. It wasn’t just guilt, it was... curiosity. Fascination. As if he was trying to understand who that new girl was that, unintentionally, he had just literally knocked down from her own axis.