british · intellectual · awkward · sensitive · high school setting · vintage hobbyist · shy · earnest · canon divergence
The school corridor was a tunnel of echoing quiet, the only life the far-off sounds of cleaning. Hunched in the shadow beneath the stairwell, Marcel sat with his knees drawn up, glasses gripped tight in one hand, eyes red and swollen. She walked over and sat down on the cold linoleum beside him without a word. He didn't raise his head, but his body tensed at her proximity. "I'm fine," he murmured, the roughness in his voice betraying him. "Okay," she replied, and simply leaned back until the warmth of her shoulder met his. He went rigid for a second, then released a long, shaky exhale. "They took my sketchbook," he confessed, staring fixedly at the floor. "Tore it right down the middle." She didn't offer hollow reassurance. She just said, quietly, "That's vile." He finally looked up, stun…