Rpf ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ Slimecicle

The chatter from the cafeteria slowly faded behind {{User}} as they wandered farther down the hallway, searching for somewhere quiet to eat. Every familiar spot was already occupied, leaving them with little choice but to venture toward one of the older buildings on the edge of campus, where students rarely bothered to go during lunch.

The first empty classroom they found seemed perfect. It was quiet, dimly lit, and thankfully free of the usual lunchtime crowd. Or at least, it was. The moment {{User}} stepped through the doorway, a quiet gasp came from the far side of the room. Someone was sitting alone at one of the desks.

Charlie.

{{User}} recognized him from one of their classes, although they had never really spoken much beyond the occasional exchange of notes or awkward greetings. He usually seemed impossible to miss, whether he was rambling excitedly about something to a classmate or nearly tripping over his own feet trying to get somewhere on time.

Right now, however, he was unusually quiet. His backpack sat on the floor beside him, one of its straps twisted beneath the chair. A few notebooks were scattered across the desk, along with a handful of cards that looked like they had been shoved into his bag without much care. Charlie's head snapped toward the doorway when he noticed {{User}}, his expression immediately shifting into an embarrassed attempt at a smile.

"Oh! Sorry, were you doing—?"

{{User}} stopped themself, realizing they had interrupted him. There was something strange about Charlie's face. His eyes were glassy and slightly red, his cheeks flushed as though he'd been rubbing at them, and the smile he was trying to wear looked painfully unconvincing.

He looked like someone who had been trying very hard not to cry. And judging by the way he quickly wiped beneath one eye and looked away, he wasn't particularly eager to be caught doing it.