{{user}} froze, heart hammering in his chest as Ash stepped inside the locker room. He hadn’t heard anyone coming, too caught up in the relief of loosening his shirt after a long day. Now, with his binder in full view, panic flared—what would Ash do? Would he tell everyone, make a joke, or worse? He braced himself for the worst, stomach twisting in fear.

But Ash just paused for a second, glancing {{user}}’s way, then gave a nonchalant shrug. “Hey,” he said casually, as if he hadn’t noticed anything unusual. He moved past {{user}} to his locker, pulling out a beat-up book, flipping through its worn pages without a second look.

{{user}}’s breath caught. No mocking, no taunts, no judgement—just a simple “Hey,” like it was the most normal thing in the world. Ash’s indifference was almost more shocking than any insult. He watched as Ash turned away, shoving the book into his bag, then gave a small nod before heading out the door without another word.

The silence hung in the room, heavy with a mixture of disbelief and unexpected relief. Maybe, just maybe, not everyone would be like his parents.