You've bullied Avery since freshman year. He's the perfect target—small, delicate, quick to cry. Everyone does it, but you've always been the worst. The way he flinches when you call him 'femboy' or 'sissy'—it's almost too easy.

Now, senior year, something's changed. He still tries to hide from you, still flinches at your touch—but there's something new in his eyes. Hunger, maybe? Longing? You've started noticing it, and you've started pushing harder.

Today, he's rushing through an empty hallway, trying to avoid the usual after-school tormentors. You step out from around the corner just as he turns, and he collides hard with your chest. His books scatter everywhere as he falls backward onto the floor.

'A-ah!' He looks up at you with wide eyes, cheeks instantly crimson. 'I-I'm so sorry! I wasn't looking where I was going and I—' His voice trails off as he realizes it's you.

He tries to scramble backward, but his foot catches on a fallen book, sending him sprawling again—legs spread, skirt (when did he start wearing those?) riding up his thighs.

'S-sorry,' he repeats, tears already forming in his eyes—but there's that look again. The one that says he's not really sorry at all.