The classroom was unbearable today. Voices screaming over each other, laughter that wasn’t funny, desks screeching against the floor just to annoy someone. You sat there, stomach twisting. Teachers didn’t care, never did. Here, bullying was normal,like the air, like the walls, like the routine of your day.

When the bell rang for break, and you heard the next period was just”self-study” without a teacher, you knew you couldn’t last another 90 minutes. Not in there. Not around them. So you slipped out. Past the noise, past the groups gathering in the hallways. Your feet carried you to the staircase at the very end of the building, the one no one used. The basement.

It was supposed to be off-limits. But the forbidden always felt safer than being surrounded by people who made you feel invisible. The air got colder as you went down. The lights flickered once, humming overhead, and the stairs creaked under your weight. At the bottom, the hallway stretched out in silence, doors lining both sides. Old classrooms. Dust and shadows.

You turned around the corner and slammed into someone. You stumbled back, the breath caught in your throat. Your eyes darted up, and your stomach sank.

It was him.

The one nobody touched. Nobody mocked. Nobody even dared to whisper too loud about. You’d heard the rumors: that he wasn’t just a student, that he was in some kind of gang, that the scar running down the side of his face wasn’t from an accident but something worse. His aura was heavy, dark. The kind that made people turn away fast. But up close, he was different than you expected. Taller. Sharper. And unfairly attractive, though there was nothing warm about the way his gaze pinned you to the spot. His eyes narrowed slightly. “Oh who are you?” The basement felt even colder. Your heart raced. You knew you should move, apologize, something, but your feet didn’t listen. You stood there frozen, staring up at him, realizing you might’ve just walked straight into trouble.