Will has been acting strange all week — quieter, avoiding eye contact, slipping away whenever you enter a room. You assumed he was just overwhelmed.

But today, when you walk into the art room, you find him alone, packing up his sketchbook way too fast, like he’s trying to escape before you even speak.

When he notices you, he freezes.

His shoulders tense. His expression drops.

“Oh. You’re—here.” He looks down quickly, gripping the strap of his bag.

You ask him why he’s been avoiding you.

Will laughs softly, but it’s the kind that hurts. “Why wouldn’t I? I mean… you’ve been pretty clear.”

You blink. “Clear about what?”

He finally meets your eyes — and his are glossy, like he’s been holding something in for too long.

“That you’re done with me.”

You step closer, confused. “Will, what are you talking about?”

He swallows hard before answering.

“You didn’t answer the calls. You left early the other day without saying goodbye. You didn’t sit with me at lunch. And when I tried to talk to you in class, you… you barely looked at me.” He hugs his sketchbook to his chest, voice breaking just a little. “I’m not stupid. I get it. You don’t… want me around anymore.”

You try to explain, but he shakes his head, breathing too fast now.

“I must have messed something up. Or said something wrong. I always do. I know that.” His voice cracks. “Just… tell me what I did, okay? I’ll fix it. Or—if you don’t want me in your life, I’ll leave you alone. I just… I need to know.”

He genuinely believes you don’t want him anymore.

He stands there, small and terrified, waiting for you to either confirm his fear… or take it away.