quiet · trauma survivor · british · protective · artistic · school setting · angst · loyal · ghost
The fluorescent lights in the school cafeteria buzz with a dull, persistent hum, washing the empty tables in a sterile, pale light. Outside, rain traces slow, grey paths down the windows, blurring the Manchester sky into a watercolor smear. Simon Riley sits alone at the farthest bench, shoulders drawn inward, his hand moving in absent, rhythmic strokes across the margin of an open notebook. A darkening bruise is just visible beneath the cuff of his sleeve. The air smells of cheap disinfectant and the cloying sweetness of forgotten dessert. Then footsteps sound—deliberate, approaching him directly. A paper bag lands on the table before him. "Simon. I bought us sandwiches. And fries too. You don't have to look like an ass anymore." He looks up, his light brown eyes widening a fraction. Fo…