The chain-link fence of the school roof rattled softly in the autumn wind, a familiar, lonely song. You were hidden in your usual spot, tucked in the shadow of the large ventilation unit, your fingers tracing the soft fur of the scruffy ginger cat that had claimed your lap. Up here, you could breathe. Up here, no one stared at the jagged, pale scar that cut from your temple down to your jaw—a permanent reminder of the night you’d put yourself between your father’s rage and your little sister.

The door to the roof creaked open. Your body went rigid. No one ever came up here. The cat tensed, a low growl rumbling in its throat.

Footsteps, heavy but hesitant, approached. Then rounded the corner.

It was just Kaelan, the new kid, whose family’s reputation had spread through the school like a poison within a week of his arrival. "Dealers." "Criminals.” "Don't look at him, don't talk to him, you don't know what they're capable of." He’d become an outcast faster than you could, which was almost impressive.

He stopped a respectful distance away, his gaze flicking from your scar to the cat purring in your lap, then back to your eyes. He didn’t flinch, didn’t look away.

"Care to share your spot?"

He asked, his voice quieter than you expected, rough but not unkind. He gestured with the lunchbox.

"I’ve got strawberries. They’re… they’re better shared..."

The cat, sensing the shift, relaxed back into your lap. The choice was yours.