There was a pause. Then he said, almost shyly, “You can... I mean, if you want, you can come over. Clean yourself up. I can lend you some clothes.”

I raised a brow. “Do you always invite total strangers over the minute you meet them?”

“Hey,” he said, holding up a hand. “It’s the least I can do. You kinda saved me.”

I flicked ash off the edge of the bleacher. “Alright. Let’s go then.”

“What about you?”

“What do you mean?”

“Sorry, I was so focused on everything else, I forgot to ask if you were okay. Did Benson hurt you?”

“Not really, no. More than anything, I just felt a bit of dignity leaving my body.”

“I understand. It would be the same for me if I hadn't lost all of it already.”

We walked mostly in silence, but it wasn’t awkward, more like a thoughtful quiet, the kind that settled in when there was too much to say and not enough energy to say it. The sun hit me straight in the face, making the now-dry blood under my nose itch like hell.

Looking back, we must have been confusing to anyone we passed. A boy, all composed, ironed clothes, relatively tamed hair. The epitome of someone who had everything sorted out.

And then there I was, blood everywhere. My hair was sticking out in weird places. Like I had just come out of a washing machine. Like I’d been tumbling inside it for two hours at maximum speed, no water.

***

Chris’s house looked pristine. It clearly must have been renovated when they moved.

He fumbled with his keys at the door, muttering something under his breath when they caught, and we headed upstairs. His room smelled faintly like laundry detergent and vanilla. Weirdly specific, weirdly comforting. The walls were mostly empty. It was clear he hadn’t been living there for long. His bed was made with precision, corners tucked military-style. Who made their bed before school? This guy was clearly unhinged. Unless it was his mom or a cleaning lady. There was a single Coke can on the desk, the only hint of chaos. And he had a picture of his mom on a shelf next to some books about astronomy. I thought it was a bit weird, but hey, who was I to judge?

I glanced around and immediately felt a pang of shame about my own disaster of a room—hoodies on the floor, a cracked mug on the windowsill, socks that may or may not have been from last week. I swore I wasn’t a slob. I just... had a lot going on in my head lately.

We dropped our backpacks next to his bed, and Chris headed for his closet. He hesitated halfway, glancing back at me.

His gaze dragged over me, not in a weird way, just assessing. Like he was trying to figure out what size hurricane had just walked into his room. I shifted under the attention, feeling a bit uncomfortable.

“I’ll see if I’ve got anything oversized,” he said, turning back. After a minute of rummaging, he tossed me a black T-shirt. It landed in my hands, soft and warm from the dryer.

“You listen to them?” I asked, nodding to the band logo.

“Yeah. You know them?”

“Yes! I went to their concert last year when they were touring. Did you go?”

He hesitated, rubbing the back of his neck. “Well... I didn’t really know anyone who liked them, and I wasn’t gonna go by myself, right?”

“Why not? I went by myself.”

He looked up, surprised. “Wasn’t it, like... weird?”

“It was at first,” I admitted. “But honestly? You can’t wait around for people to do the things you love. Sometimes you just have to go alone.”

Chris leaned his shoulder against the wall, expression softening.

“I actually made friends with a couple of cool girls there,” I added. “Next time there’s a concert, I’ll go with them, and you can come too.”

He smiled. Not wide, more like the kind of smile that built slowly, like he was deep in thought.

“When you say it like that, it makes sense,” he said. “I’d like that.”

He slipped out to find the first aid kit. I peeled off my bloody hoodie and shirt, stuffing them deep into my backpack. As I pulled Chris’s clean shirt over my head, I paused.

It smelled like him. I’m not a creep, okay? It’s not like I walk around sniffing people. Just caught it in passing, swear.

“Finally!” he called from down the hall.

I nearly jumped, my pulse spiking. I followed his voice into the bathroom.

The mirror hit me first. A total disaster stared back. Bruising already blooming beneath both eyes, dried blood like rust on my skin. There was a red pouch open on the counter. Chris held a bottle of rubbing alcohol like it might bite.

I glanced at my reflection again and sighed. “I’m gonna have to come up with a solid excuse for my mom.”

“Like what?”

“Someone nailed me in the face during PE. Hard. Nose injuries are a bitch. They make it look way worse than it is.”

I grabbed a fresh cotton ball, soaked it, and started gently wiping away the worst of it. The water was cold against my skin, sharp and refreshing.

Chris leaned against the bathroom wall, arms crossed, his expression more serious now.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly.

“Don’t sweat it. It wasn’t your fault. What even happened, anyway?”

He shifted a little. “I might have spilled a little Coke on him. Not on purpose!”

“I’m starting to think you're addicted to Coke, dude,” I said with a grin.

He smiled. “You’re not wrong.”

Weird thing to be addicted to. But who was I to talk? I, too, am fond of chemical substances. Just the kind you inhale.

“Why did you put yourself on the line for me?”

“I’m not a fan of unfair fights,” I said. “And... I needed to blow off steam.”

“So getting your ass kicked is your hobby?” he asked, brow raised.

God. When he said it like that... I sounded like an idiot.

“Sorry,” he said quickly, eyes widening. “I didn’t mean to—”

“No, it’s fine.” I rubbed at the bruised side of my face. “You’re right. I’m stupid.”

“I don’t think you’re stupid,” he said. “But maybe... You should figure out why you do it.”

Still... he wasn’t wrong.

I let out a dry chuckle, leaning back against the sink.

“What?” Chris asked, his eyes narrowing in mock suspicion.

“This day’s been really weird,” I said.

He laughed for real this time. “Yeah. It really has.”

“You know, I’d never actually seen someone get punched in real life before. I’d just gotten here and—BAM.”

“Don’t worry. This is not a typical day, I swear.”

“I sure do hope so.”

We hung out a little longer in his room, talking about music, swapping favorite songs. It was quiet, easy. When it was finally time to leave, I almost didn’t want to.

***

By the time I got home, the sky had slipped into twilight. Purple streaks layered over the horizon, the last bit of sunlight clinging stubbornly to the rooftops.

Mom and Dad bought my PE excuse without hesitation. Unfortunately, Tracy was sleeping over at a friend’s, so I didn’t get to tell her everything. Not that I knew what I’d even say.

After dinner, I climbed the stairs, each step heavier than the last. My muscles ached. My face throbbed. I felt wrung out but not in a bad way.

I cracked my window and sat on the sill, one leg hanging out, the other pulled close. The breeze cut across my skin, cool and clean.

I lit a cigarette. Let the smoke drift lazily out into the dark.

Life is weird sometimes.

I had spent most of the day angry and miserable, thinking everything was pointless. Then a fight happened. A bloody, stupid, chaotic mess. And somehow... I felt a little better.

Meeting Chris had been unexpected.

A good kind of unexpected.

I keep thinking about our conversation in the bathroom. How easy it had been. How honest. How someone I barely knew had made me feel more seen in a couple of hours than people who’d known me for years.