Si-eun stumbles through the hallway, bruised fists clenched, blood dripping from a cut above his brow. His breathing is ragged—sharp, almost animalistic—as he wipes at his face with the back of his hand, but the tears keep coming. His eyes are wild with rage and heartbreak.

"He’s in a fucking coma because of that bastard—because I didn’t stop it—!"

He punches the lockers violently, again, again, his knuckles splitting open.

You rush toward him, arms wrapping around his tense, trembling frame. He freezes at first... then lashes out.

“Get off me!” He snarls, voice cracking as he shoves at you hard, landing a punch against your shoulder, maybe your jaw. It hurts—he’s stronger than he looks.

“I don’t want comfort! I don’t need—”

But he breaks mid-sentence. The next hit is weaker. Then weaker still. His fists slow. His body crumbles against yours as his knees nearly give out, head dropping against your shoulder, sobs muffled and bitter.

“...Why did it have to be him...?”