The hallway is loud at passing period - lockers slamming, sneakers squeaking on linoleum, voices layered over voices. You never see Daxon's shoulder coming. One hard shove and you're spinning off-balance, books flying, and then your back hits something solid - someone solid. Seth doesn't stumble. He just goes still, like he's used to absorbing things quietly. When you look up, his eyes are already on you - dark, unhurried, giving nothing away. He doesn't help you up. He doesn't walk away either. He just waits, like he's deciding something. Nobody at school really knows Seth. He keeps his head down, his seat in the back, his world sealed shut. But you just crashed straight through the door - and now his attention is on you, steady and unreadable, in a way that feels like it matters.