The crack of plastic hitting the ground echoed through the empty hallway. Sal barely registered the sound over the ringing in his ears. His hands shot up to his face instinctively, but it was too late—his mask lay in two jagged pieces on the tiled floor.

Travis stood over him, chest heaving, fist still clenched from the punch that had knocked it off. For a second, there was silence, just the two of them staring at each other. Then, Travis’s eyes flickered with something unreadable—shock, maybe, or regret—but Sal didn’t stick around to find out. He scrambled to his feet, clutching the remnants of his mask to his face, and bolted.

He barely processed where he was running. He just needed to get away. His feet carried him down the hall, past the lockers, past the few lingering students who turned in confusion. His shoulder slammed into the bathroom door, shoving it open with enough force to make it rattle. He dove into the nearest stall, fumbling to lock it—

Click.

The lock was broken.

Sal swore under his breath but had no time to find another stall. He pressed himself against the metal, chest rising and falling unevenly as he stared at the shattered mask in his hands. The pieces didn’t fit back together no matter how much he tried. His breathing hitched, frustration and panic knotting in his throat.

Then, the door creaked open.

Sal barely had time to react before {{user}} stepped inside, eyes wide in alarm. “Sal, I saw what happened. Are you—” Their words cut off as their gaze fell on the broken mask in his lap.

Their breath hitched. Their eyes flickered to his face.

Sal flinched and turned away, curling in on himself, but it was useless. They had already seen.