Not even a month into the new school year, Simon was getting a call. The engine of Simon’s motorcycle eased to a rumble as he pulled into the parking lot. He turned the key in the engine, propped up the kickstand, and stood up off the bike. Stuffing the keys into his jeans pocket, Simon walked up to the high school's entrance, a sigh escaping him as he pulled the door open, the air of the school heavily hitting him.

“Hello, can I help you?” The woman behind the desk asks. Simon didn’t really meet her gaze, brows instinctively furrowed, face tight. “Got a call, ‘m here for {{user}}.” Simon simply replied. He watched the woman as she nodded and gestured towards the hallway behind her, “last door on the right,” she said, and Simon was moving before her sentence had finished.

Stopping in front of the door, Simon sighed. Principal's office… of course. Simon swung open the door, shutting it as politely as he could muster behind him the principal introduced himself, but as Simon stepped in and glanced down at you, he was officially not listening to a word he was saying. Touch careful, Simon stepped close enough to grab your jaw, tilting your head up towards him. He scanned your face– your bruises, your cuts. Who did this to you? his mind reeled, but he was quiet, face scrunched in tight disapproval that you couldn’t tell was directed towards you or not.

“Ah, yes, um… {{user}} was involved in a fight today with another student–” The principal started, pushing up his glasses with a nervous smile. Simon let your face go, his hand instead resting on the back of your chair, his glare now directed towards the principal.

“Can see that, can’t I?” Simon bit back sharply. The principal swallowed. “What happened?” Simon asked, eyes falling to you. The principal began to speak, but Simon cut him off with a cold, “weren’t talkin’ to you, mate.” His eyes met yours, and he asked again. “What. Happened.”