Chapter 10
KAI
It was Wednesday.
Five minutes since the bell rang in History, and Alex still wasn’t here.
I didn’t think he’d been here yesterday either. I hadn’t seen him in the corridors or the canteen, and I’d caught myself looking for him - which was strange. I kept telling myself it was because of the assignment, because we were supposed to work together, because it would be annoying if he bailed.
But that wasn’t the whole truth.
I hoped he’d be here today. Not just for the assignment. But because part of me was worried about him.
I had no idea why. But I was.
And sitting here now, staring at the empty chair beside me, made me second-guess everything.
I wasn’t good with emotions. Never had been. Most of the time I couldn’t even name what I was feeling, and I’d learned not to scratch too far beneath the surface.
Ever since Dad died, I’d kept everything level - flat - because the sadness that day had ripped through me like a storm, and I’d sworn I’d never let myself feel like that again. Never let anyone get close enough that the entire world spins on its axis when they leave.
If I was going to make him proud, if I was going to work hard and keep going, I needed to be strong. Strong meant steady. Strong meant controlled. Strong meant not feeling too much.
But this?
This I recognised.
I was disappointed.
Disappointed that Alex wasn’t sitting next to me. Disappointed that I didn’t know where he was. Disappointed that he might not be waiting at the school gates like we’d planned, ready to go over the assignment together.
It was stupid. I barely knew him. He barely knew me.
And yet… the empty chair felt louder than the whole classroom.
I tapped my pen against my notebook, trying to focus on the lesson, trying to pretend I didn’t keep glancing at the door every time it opened.
He should’ve been here by now.
And the longer the seat stayed empty, the heavier something sat in my chest - something I didn’t want to name, something I didn’t want to feel.
But I felt it anyway.
It was strange - when he finally strolled in fifteen minutes late with nothing but a few quiet words to Miss King, I thought the feeling in my chest would lift.
But it didn’t.
If anything, it got worse.
Something about the way he looked seemed off to me. Something about the way he was walking, even. The way he kept his eyes trained on the floor like he didn’t want anyone to see him. Like he didn’t want to be seen at all.
He didn’t look at me when he slid into the seat beside mine. Didn’t say hi. Didn’t even give that awkward half-smile he always did when he wasn’t sure what to do with himself.
He just sat down slowly, carefully, like every movement had to be measured.
A moment passed before I wound up the courage to speak to him. “Are you okay?” I whispered.
He just nodded quickly, eyes glued to his fingers as they fiddled on the desk.
Brilliant. I was right.
After the almost-brawl with Alfie, he wanted nothing to do with me. He was back to that shy, closed-off version of himself, the one who barely spoke above a whisper.
I sighed and leaned back in my chair, trying to pretend it didn’t bother me.
But just as my eyes drifted away from his face, something caught my attention.
Scratches.
Small ones - thin, sharp lines just above his cheekbone. Four, maybe five. Close enough to his eye that it made something in my jaw tense.
My brows pulled together before I could stop them.
I tried to make sense of it. Tried to think of anything that could’ve done that. A cat, maybe. Car accident. Maybe he’d fallen. Maybe he’d walked into a branch or something.
I didn’t know. But I wanted to find out.
Before I could ask, though, he turned his head just slightly - not enough to really look at me, just enough that I knew he’d heard the question forming in my throat.
“I can’t come to yours tonight,” he whispered, barely moving his lips. “Something’s come up. Can we do lunch or a free period, or something?”
I wanted to ask. Wanted to know what was bothering him. Wanted to know why he looked like he hadn’t slept, why he couldn’t look me in the eye.
But something in me - something instinctive - told me not to push. That if I did, he’d shut down completely. Disappear behind that wall he always seemed to carry around with him.
So I bit my tongue and nodded.
“Yeah, sure,” I said, keeping my voice even. “Computer room?”
“That works.”
He said it quickly, like he needed the conversation to end. Like even talking to me was costing him energy he didn’t have.
I watched him for a second longer, trying to read him, trying to make sense of the scratches on his cheek, the stiffness in his shoulders, the way he kept his hands hidden in his sleeves.
But he didn’t look up. Didn’t give me anything.
So I leaned back in my chair, pretending to focus on Miss King’s droning explanation of the assignment, pretending I wasn’t still thinking about him.