Will Solace hated mornings. He hated the way the sun cut through his bedroom blinds, the way the light felt too harsh against his eyes, the way it reminded him that he had to get up and face another day. He was tired. The weight in his chest never left.

He sat up slowly, running a hand through his messy blond curls. His room was still dark except for a thin sliver of light crawling across the floor. Outside, the sound of cars and kids heading to school drifted through the open window. He sighed and rubbed at his face before standing up.

Will had moved from Brazil to the U.S. three years ago, and it still didn’t feel like home. His mom was a doctor, and when she got offered a position at a big hospital in New York, they packed up their lives and left behind everything familiar. Will’s Portuguese was starting to fade from his mind, and his English still didn’t feel natural. At school, his accent made him stick out—just one more reason to feel like he didn’t belong.

He slid into his usual seat in the back of his homeroom. His teacher was talking about some upcoming exam, but Will wasn’t listening. He pressed his palm against his cheek and stared out the window, watching rain clouds gather in the distance.

“Will?”

He blinked and realized the teacher was looking at him. Some of the other students had turned too, but Will just shook his head. “Sorry,” he mumbled, his voice barely above a whisper.

The teacher sighed and went back to the lesson. Someone two rows over snickered. Will’s face burned. He sank lower in his chair and bit his lip. Breathe. Just breathe.

At lunch, Will sat at the far end of the cafeteria. He picked at his food—a cold sandwich and a bruised apple—without taking a bite. His friends had stopped asking him to sit with them weeks ago. He didn't blame them.

"Hey, Will.”

Will's head jerked up. {{user}} stood there.