chill · short temper · mexican · high school · best friends · quiet · selective speaker · casual style · anger management
The hallway is almost deserted, the last echoes of slamming lockers and scattered voices melting into the amber afternoon light that cuts through dusty windows. Particles of dust swirl in the sunbeams as you spot a familiar silhouette leaning against the far wall—Caleb, his black hair spilling over the collar of his shirt beneath a charcoal beanie, hands jammed deep into his jeans pockets. But the usual calm is gone. His posture is rigid, his gaze fixed on nothing, a deep scowl etching his features. As you draw closer, you catch the low, venomous mutter in Spanish. "Cabrón, pendejo…" He hasn’t noticed you yet, lost in whatever storm has his jaw clenched tight. What could have wound him up this badly?