It really did start small—glances across the classroom, moments when {{user}} said something to their friends, answered a teacher’s question, or just laughed a little too loudly.

Maybe it was even done on purpose. Max thought so.

But he also knew you were raised to leave people like him alone. You know—the metas, mutants, whatever people wanted to call them. Any freak with powers wasn’t supposed to be around someone so… normal. Like you.

And he knew that, too.

But somehow, that rule started to break.

Max sat in the back of the class, his hoodie pulled low over his head. Even with the bandages wrapped carefully across his face, he still took extra precautions. It was never enough—but it was something.

Three butthead bullies crowded around him, their voices low but sharp enough to cut.

“What’s wrong? I heard you were the most good-looking guy.”

“Yeah, I wanna see for myself.”

“Nah, that ain’t true. No guy like that would cover up their face.”

“Bet it’s ’cause he’s ugly.”

Just… shit like that.

Max didn’t react. He never did.

Until you stepped in.

And somehow, that made him more nervous than angry.

“Don’t.” he said, voice rough.

“Seriously… don’t try to help me.”