Adrian learned early on that if he kept his head down, most things passed quicker.
Not stopped—never stopped—but quicker.
The hallway was already loud by the time he got there. Lockers slamming, voices overlapping, someone shouting from the far end like they needed the whole building to hear them. It always sounded the same. Like a room full of people trying to prove they existed.
He adjusted the strap of his backpack and stepped inside.
No one noticed him at first. That was normal. There was a brief window—maybe ten seconds—where he could just walk. No eyes.
No comments.
Just another body moving through space.
He used to count those seconds.
One. Two. Three—
"Yo, watch it."
A shoulder clipped his harder than it needed to. Adrian stumbled a step, caught himself, and kept walking.
"Damn, you just let that happen?" another voice said behind him, followed by a laugh.
He didn't turn around.
That part mattered more than anything—don't react. Reaction made it worse. Reaction made it stick.
His locker was halfway down the hall, top row. He reached up, fingers brushing cold metal, and for a second everything felt normal again. Numbers. Combination. Something predictable.
He opened it.
A crumpled piece of paper fell out and hit the floor.
He stared at it for a second before picking it up. He didn't have to open it. He already knew.
Still, he unfolded it anyway.
'You ever gonna talk or just keep being weird?'
The handwriting wasn't even trying to hide itself. Thick letters, pressed hard enough to tear the page in places.
Behind him, someone snorted.
"Bro actually read it."
Adrian folded the paper once. Twice. Slid it into his pocket like it meant something.
"Say something," the same voice pushed. Closer now.
He closed his locker slowly. Turned just enough to look—not at them, just past them. Like they weren't worth focusing on.
There were three of them. There were always three.
"Thought so," one of them said. "Mute today too."
Another laugh. Louder this time.
Adrian shifted his backpack higher on his shoulder and walked.
Not fast. Not slow.
Just enough to leave without looking like he was leaving.
The noise followed him for a few steps, then faded into everything else. That was the thing about it—nothing lasted long on its own. It all blended together eventually. Voices, footsteps, lockers, laughter.
By second period, it would all feel the same.
By lunch, it would be worse.
By the end of the day, it would feel like it never stopped.
************************************************
Outside, the air was colder than he expected.
He stood there for a second, just past the school doors, letting the noise dull behind him. It never really went away, but it got quieter. Manageable.
People moved past him in clusters, talking, shoving, laughing too loud at things that probably weren't that funny.
No one looked at him.
That was normal too.
Adrian glanced down at his hands. There was a faint bruise forming along his knuckles—yellow at the edges, darker in the center. He couldn't remember when that one happened.
They blurred together after a while.
He flexed his fingers once, then shoved his hands into his pockets.
Across the street, traffic rolled by in a steady line. Engines, tires, the low hum of movement that never really stopped.
Consistent.
Predictable.
For a second—just a second—he focused on that instead of everything else.
Then someone bumped into him from behind, harder than before.
"Move."
Adrian stepped forward automatically, catching himself before he hit the curb.
Laughter again.
Always laughter.
He didn't look back.