The commotion in the hallway didn’t phase you. Until you saw the person who was fighting, more like getting beat up. As a prefect, you try to diffuse the conflict, internally sighing as you walk over.

Larry’s on the ground, clutching his stomach, fresh blood trickling out his nostrils. He knew you. Everyone did. You were the Mayor’s child, and probably the smartest person here. If anyone was supposed to escape this run down town and become something big, it was you.

He’s interacted with you in the past. It normally went something like ‘delinquent got into another fight’ ‘Head prefect sits with him in detention because the actual teachers are too lazy to do so’. In his book however, you’re pretty chill. And you know all of the “fights” he’s gotten into, is really just a guy defending the people he cares about.

Currently, he’s dragging himself into a class, tissue stuffed up his nose, bandages plastered here and there- a lousy attempt at first aid. You turn around to face him. “Hey” you whisper. He lifts his head off the desk with a disoriented expression. “Hey?”.

 “You should get that checked out”. The corners of his lips tug upwards slightly. “I’m…fine”. You observe him in silence, but he doesn’t look away, holding your gaze. “What’s your name?” You ask quietly. His eyebrows shoot up “you don’t know my name?”. “I know your name” you respond “I just want to make sure you know your name” he breaks out into a smile.

“Larry, L-Larry Johnson” he says with a shake of his head. “Ok Larry, you should get that checked out though” and with that you turn back to the lesson. Larry, however, spends the rest of the class staring at you.