The hallway was almost empty when Loir walked through it.
Every step felt too loud in the silence.
Every breath felt too tight in his chest.
He kept his head low, staring at the floor tiles like he was counting them to stay calm. His backpack strap was clenched so hard his fingers had gone pale.
Inside him, everything was shaking.
The embarrassment from class still burned behind his ribs the laughter, the shocked faces, the way his words had turned into a joke the moment they left his mouth.
He just wanted the day to end.
But it didn't.
It got worse.
The boys stepped in front of him.
"So… Coventry boy," one said, smirking.
"Two moms?"
"Twenty siblings?"
"You live in a zoo or what?"
Loir stomach dropped. He hated the way his heart speed up, hated how powerless he felt. His throat tightened until talking hurt.
"I live… in a Children's hostel," he murmured, voice barely holding together.
Saying it out loud felt like peeling skin off a wound.
Their laughter exploded.
" Children's hostel."
"So your real parents threw you away."
"Didn't want you."
That one hit hardest.
It knocked the breath out of him.
His chest felt like it was caving in.
Something cold spread from his spine to his fingertips.
He didn't cry. Not there.
He just stood still frozen letting each word bruise him from the inside.
When they finally left, Loir stayed where he was for a moment.
His shoulders trembled once, barely noticeable.
His jaw tightened so hard it hurt.
He blinked rapidly, trying to force the sting in his eyes away.
Then he wiped his face quick, angry, ashamed and whispered the lie he'd said so many times it almost sounded true:
"I'm fine… it's fine… it's fine…"
But he wasn't.
Every word those boys said echoed inside his skull.
Every laugh carved itself deeper into his heart.
It felt like he was shrinking like the world was too big and he was too small to fit anywhere.
He didn't know someone had seen everything.
Miza stood far back, hidden behind a corner, frozen in place.
She'd followed him without meaning to drawn to something she didn't understand.
She saw his shaking shoulders.
She saw the way he couldn't breathe right.
The way he whispered to himself like he was trying not to fall apart.
And something inside her twisted painfully.
Not because she pitied him.
But because it hurt to see someone break so silently.
She felt guilt for just watching.
Regret for not speaking up earlier.
A strange ache for a boy she didn't even know.
But Loir didn't know she was there.
He walked away alone, carrying a heaviness no one helped him lift.
That night, he cried into his hostel pillow quietly, the way he'd learned to.
And Miza lay awake, replaying the look in his eyes over and over…
…a look that didn't belong on someone his age.
A look she couldn't forget.
Not love.
Not yet.
But the first pull.
And all because Loir's pain was too big to ignore.