Miles watched Tristan's back as he fled the classroom. He shifted in his seat, wanting to go after him, but unsure of whether he should.
Tristan sped down the hallway, pushing open the door to the nearest bathroom. He braced himself against the sink, his body shaking as tears began to stream down his face. He looked up, his tear-stained face staring back at him.
weakstupiduglyfatworthlessuglypatheticstupidweakfatworthlessuglyweak
Tristan looked away, unable to face himself anymore. He turned on the faucet, splashing his face with water.
Just then he heard the door open.
Miles walked in, stuffing a washroom pass in his pocket.
"Are you ok?" The concern in his voice echoing in the empty room.
"I'm fine," Tristan turned his back to Miles, grabbing a paper towel to dry his face.
"Please Tris, talk to me." Miles pleaded.
Tristan scoffed at the irony, as if Miles had ever confided in him when something was wrong. He turned around and walked past Miles, but Miles grabbed his arm, spinning him around to face him.
"Talk to me," He repeated more forcefully, but his expression softened when he saw the pain ripple through Tristan's face.
Tristan's stony front faltered, his eyes betraying him as he was caught off guard by the concern that Miles was showing for him, as he had never done so before.
He shrugged out of Miles' grip and left the bathroom, feeling himself begin to rip apart at the seams that he had so carefully put in place, as he hurried out of the building.
Tristan flung his book bag on the floor as he flopped onto his bed.
Goddamit, you can't even make it through one school day.
Tristan heard his phone buzzing, but he didn't have the energy to even check who it was.
He shut his eyes, his head pounding.
He hadn't realized that he had fallen asleep until he heard the front door open, indicating that his mom was home.
Tristan sat up, rubbing his eyes before trudging downstairs.
"Hey mom," he said, a fake smile plastered on his face.
"How was school?" She asked, trying to keep her tone light, but Tristan caught on to the edge of bitterness in her voice.
He sighed, "Is dad coming home today?" He asked, already knowing the answer.
His mom didn't say anything, just nodded as she walked into the kitchen and began putting away groceries.
"Dinner will be ready in an hour," she called after Tristan as he began heading back up the stairs.
"I already ate." He called back, smirking to himself.
As if.