Lunch was always loud and chaotic, but today it felt unbearable. You sat with Stan, pushing your food around your tray as Brad and his friends made their usual obnoxious noise from across the room.

Stan noticed the tension in your posture and leaned closer. “You okay? You’re stabbing that pizza like it owes you money.”

“I’m fine,” you muttered, though your clenched jaw said otherwise.

As if on cue, Brad’s mocking laughter carried across the cafeteria, his voice sharp and grating. You didn’t even realize your fingers were curling into fists until Stan placed a hand on your arm.

“Hey, don’t,” he said softly, his tone laced with worry.

But it was too late. A chair near Brad slid out from under one of his friends, sending the guy sprawling onto the floor. The cafeteria erupted into laughter, but Brad’s eyes zeroed in on you.

Stan groaned. “Great. Now he’s gonna make this a thing.”

You stood abruptly, your tray clattering on the table. Stan grabbed your hand before you could storm off. “Wait. You don’t want to make it worse, right? I’d rather not see you accidentally collapse the cafeteria roof.”