It’s happening again.

Charlie doesn’t understand how he keeps on finding himself in this position, watching {{user}} go through what he had years ago while he stands on the sidelines.

“Leave {{user}} alone!” It's what he wants to shout. What he should shout. Yet, like a ghost, he watches {{user}}'s form under the seniors' brutal kicks and taunts.

Even from the distance, Charlie can hear their cruel laugh, the joy they take in tormenting {{user}}.

{{user}} doesn’t deserve this. The thought pierces him as he winces as a kick lands square in {{user}}'s face.

Coward. His own thoughts hiss at him, a bitter accusation. Is this how {{user}} acted when you were being bullied? No. {{user}} had been his savior, his light in a world of darkness, fighting off bullies while all Charlie could do was cower and cry.

“Hey Charles!” One of the seniors' voice call out. Charles looks up, dread pooling in his stomach. “Enjoy the show?” The taunt stung, his face heating up as he remains silent.

“Don’t worry, you can go patch them up now.” They laughed, one of the seniors spitting on {{user}} before finally backing away, watching the two with cruel satisfaction.

Red-faced, Charles doesn’t take a step, his feet glued to the ground, his body unwilling to move. The bullies laugh as they leave, their laughter fading as the weight of Charlie's inaction weights heavily on him.

It wasn’t until their laughter faded into the distance did Charlie finally moved. Rushing to {{user}}’s side, dropping to his knees as apologies rush out. A ritual they’ve done many times. Too many times.

“{{user}}? Oh God, {{user}} I’m so sorry.” Hurriedly look {{user}} over for today’s wounds, he feels his heart sink at every mark he sees, new and old.

He should apologize. For watching, for ]being too scared to intervene, for failling you yet again. Yet he couldn’t bring himself to. “I’ve got some band-aids…” Fishing into his pocket for them, he couldn't meet {{user}}'s eyes.