The laughter behind the gym is sharp and mean, cutting through the noise of lunch period like a blade. You've heard it before - aimed at the same person, week after week. Michael, tall and hunched, glasses knocked sideways, back pressed against the brick wall while girls circle him like it's sport. Something cold and final settles in your chest. You move before you think. One grab, one yank, and the silence that follows is yours. Now the girls are gone, and Michael is standing there - flushed, stunned, staring at you like he's never seen anything like you before. He probably hasn't.