"Were you, uh... awake the whole time?"

"Yeah."

That, unfortunately, landed on an entirely different tier of embarrassing.

Not the mild, shrug-it-off kind.

Honestly, he should’ve never touched his face in the first place. That had been the beginning of it all. A simple, harmless gesture, until it wasn’t.

Blake exhaled softly, the sound barely more than a breath, and pushed himself upright.

"What hour is it?"

"It’s 5:18 p.m. I should go now."

"Okay!"

They both stood, almost in sync.

Blake stretched his arms slightly, rolling his shoulders back as if to shake off the awkwardness that still clung to him. It didn’t work, or, at least, not entirely. But it helped enough.

He turned toward the kitchen, pausing halfway as a thought occurred to him.

"I’m getting some water," he said, glancing over his shoulder. "You want a glass too?"

Myles, already crouched near the door, tying his shoelaces quite fast, didn’t even look up at first.

"No, I’m good," he replied, voice casual, almost absent-minded, "Thanks, though."

Blake gave a small nod, even though it went unseen, and continued on.

He grabbed a glass, filled it, and took a long sip, letting the coolness settle him.

’God, I’ve never been this thirsty!’

For a moment, he just stood there, staring at nothing in particular.

Then he exhaled again and walked back.

Myles was already by the door now, standing upright, adjusting the strap of his bag. Shoes on, ready to leave.

Blake approached, slowing slightly as he reached the entrance.

"See you," Myles said.

"Yeah. See you."

Blake opened the door, stepping aside to let him pass. As Myles crossed the threshold, Blake offered a small smile.

Myles simply waved, and then he was gone.

The door clicked shut.

He stood there for a second longer than necessary, hand still resting lightly against the handle. The apartment felt quieter now. Not dramatically so, but enough to notice.

Then, he turned away eventually, heading back inside, already letting the moment fade.

***

The next day came far too quickly.

Blake woke up feeling off, unsurprisingly.

Not sick, exactly, just really weak.

Like his limbs were just slightly heavier than they should be, like his head lagged a fraction of a second behind his movements.

It was way more subtle than before, but it’s also more persistent.

He sat up slowly, pressing a hand to his forehead.

"Great," he muttered under his breath.

But staying home wasn’t really an option. Not today.

So he got up anyway.

***

Now he was at school.

And not just anywhere in school, he was sitting in the teacher’s office, across from a desk that looked far too nice for the conversations that usually happened around it.

Asher sat beside him.

The room carried that familiar institutional stillness, since all the papers were neatly stacked and there was a relaxing, faint ticking from a wall clock.

Blake leaned back slightly in his chair, arms loosely crossed, gaze fixed somewhere near the floor.

They were waiting... for the bullies!!

Supposedly, they were coming here to... what? Confess? Apologize? Blake wasn’t entirely sure. The details had been vague, wrapped in administrative language that didn’t really mean much in practice.

And now, they were late.

Of course they were.

Blake clicked his tongue softly, irritation flickering across his expression.

"They’re the ones who caused all this," he muttered, just loud enough for Asher to hear. "And they still manage to be late. That’s impressive."

Asher didn’t respond immediately. He sat upright, hands resting neatly in his lap, posture as composed as ever. But there was a tension in his shoulders, subtle yet unmistakable.

"They should be here soon," Asher said quietly.

Blake didn’t bother replying.

Then, loud voices, right outside the door and cmfcollowed by a burst of laughter.

Blake’s expression flattened instantly. 𝚏𝕣𝐞𝗲𝐰𝕖𝐛𝐧𝕠𝕧𝚎𝚕.𝐜𝚘𝗺

"Ah," he said under his breath. "Perfect timing."

The door swung open.

And there they were.

Their entrance was almost laughably cliché—loud, careless, completely unserious. One of them was mid-sentence, another snickering, like they’d just walked into a casual hangout instead of a disciplinary meeting.

Blake stared at them, unimpressed.

Asher, beside him, looked a bit different from usual, just like last time.

Still composed, yes. Still reserved, of course. But there was something more annoyed in his gaze now. A displeasure that didn’t quite fit his usual demeanor. Like a line had been crossed, and he wasn’t willing to ignore it.

The teacher cleared their throat.

"Ladies and gentlemen," they said firmly. "That’s enough. Step forward."

The group shuffled in, their movements slow and almost reluctant, but not out of shame. More like mild inconvenience. They stopped a few steps ahead, expressions ranging from bored to faintly amused.

Blake tilted his head slightly.

Unbelievable.

"You’re all in your final year," the teacher continued, voice steady but edged with authority. "It’s time you start acting accordingly. What happened was unacceptable."

One of the bullies rolled their eyes.

Another smirked.

"You are expected to apologize," the teacher went on. "Sincerely."

There was a pause.

"Sorry," one of them said.

Like a box being checked.

’That is definitely one of the most insincere apologies I ever heard.’

Then he leaned forward slightly.

"I didn’t hear that," he said.

The room went still.

The bullies stiffened, exchanging quick glances.

"What?" one of them snapped.

Blake met their gaze, expression calm.

"I said I didn’t hear it properly. You’ll have to repeat it."

There was a beat of silence.

Then irritation flared.

"You heard it," another one said, voice sharper now. "Don’t start lying."

Blake didn’t even hesitate.

"Repeat it."

The teacher shifted slightly, as if about to intervene, but didn’t.

The tension in the room thickened.

The bullies looked annoyed now. Not amused. Not bored. Just irritated.

"Sorry," one of them spat, louder this time.

Blake watched them for a moment, then sighed.

"That wasn’t very gentle," he said.

A pause.

"What?"

Blake leaned back again, shrugging lightly.

"If you’re going to apologize, at least make it sound like you mean it."

That did it.

"What’s your problem?" one snapped.

"My problem?" Blake echoed. "You’re the ones apologizing. I’m just pointing out that you’re doing a terrible job."

"Are you serious right now—"

"Repeat it."

"You—"

"Try again."

"This isn’t—"

"Louder, maybe?"

"You’re doing this on purpose!"

Blake tilted his head slightly.

"Am I?"

The back-and-forth spiraled from there.

Each attempt at an apology met with some new critique.

"Too fast."

"Too flat."

"That sounded forced."

"You’re not even looking at me."

At one point, he even added, almost thoughtfully, "You could try sounding less like you’re being held at gunpoint."

The bullies grew increasingly frustrated, their responses sharper, more defensive.

"You’re impossible."

"You’re just dragging this out."

"What do you even want?"

Blake’s replies stayed calm. Consistent.

"A proper apology."

It became almost cyclical.

They spoke.

He dismissed it.

They snapped.

He insisted.

Again and again.

"Enough."

The teacher’s voice cut through the room cleanly.

"This is going nowhere," they said firmly. "This conversation is no longer productive."

Blake leaned back in his chair, exhaling softly.

"I agree," he said. "It’s not exactly useful to spend my time on this."

That didn’t go over well.

"Yeah?" one of the bullies shot back. "At least we’ve got something better to go back to. Unlike you."

Another snorted.

"At least we’ve got families that actually want us."

There it was, a hot comeback. The truth was, he didn’t really care, though.

Not about that, at least.

He knew how little his family cared. It wasn’t news. It wasn’t a weakness they’d uncovered. Just something obvious they were trying to weaponize.

Asher, however, reacted immediately.

"That’s completely out of line," he said, voice sharper than before. "You’re being incredibly rude."

Blake glanced at him briefly.

Then shrugged.

"It’s fine," he said. "I don’t really mind comments from people who don’t know anything about me."

That seemed to annoy them even more.

But Blake wasn’t paying attention anymore.

Because suddenly, his head felt... lighter, and not in a good way.

More like it was floating just slightly out of place.

He blinked, pressing his fingers briefly against his temple.

"I think..." he started, voice quieter now. "I’m a little lightheaded."

The teacher noticed immediately.

"Go sit down in the adjacent room," they said. "Take a moment."

Blake didn’t argue.

He stood up carefully, ignoring the way the room seemed to tilt just a fraction, and walked toward the door.

The hallway felt cooler and quieter.

He moved slowly, glancing once at the small map posted on the wall.

Right.

Second door on the left.

He reached it, opened it, and stepped inside.

A smaller room, it looked pretty empty.

He closed the door behind him and sat down, exhaling.

"...Yeah," he murmured to himself.

This was the right one.

The school map had actually come in handy for once.

He leaned back in the chair, letting his head rest against it.

The lightheadedness hadn’t completely faded, but it was manageable for now.

His gaze drifted toward a set of cabinets along the wall.

Of course, they were locked but, at least, not particularly secure-looking.

Blake’s expression shifted slightly.

Because the truth was, he wasn’t here just for the meeting.

There were student records in this office.

And there was something he wanted to look up.

Something that had nothing to do with apologies.

Or bullies.

Or any of this.

His eyes lingered on the cabinets a moment longer.

Then he closed them.

Just briefly.

Thinking.