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The door opened.

More people.

Oh god.

The voices and the replies blurred in his head initially as he stared through the doorway to the storage room. People; the first he had met since Min-Jae. Faces, all staring at him because of course he had to be so loud as to accidently make himself the center of attention (they were probably judging him for that, he couldn’t see their eyes but he knew that they were, it was just something he had learned to accept at this point). Faces that he recognised, if only slightly. Sandy Bricks, photographer. Danny Brooks, footballer. Audrey Reyes, someone that he couldn’t think up anything for. They weren’t faces that he personally knew but they were ones he knew the names of, at the very least. And they were looking at him. At his face, probably. They could see the bruises and the cuts and they were probably wondering what happened to him.

Wait, no, no, what did they think about that? Could they see his bruises? Did they know where they came from? He knew that they didn’t because Min-Jae was somewhere behind him and he was the only other one there but he didn’t know, he just knew that they knew, if that made sense. They knew that he had somehow managed to get those injuries from someone else and that that had to mean a fight but wait did they know Alvaro had started it? Wait, no, he did, didn’t he. His glasses were broken and his face was messed up and it was all his fault. Wait, no, focus Alvaro. There were people in front of him. They knew that he was probably in a fight and he knew that he was done now. They weren’t friends of his, they were just going to leave him out because why would they choose to put him in? He was him, and he was injured. That was reason enough.

He blanked out, for what seemed like a second. Focusing on the coughing and in his mind and on how this was a mistake.

He came back in again. The girl had pulled something out of her pockets. Cough drops, for him, apparently.

For him.

For him.


Wait, this had to mean something. The girl - Audrey - was willing to give them to him despite his being bruised and his being in a fight. That had to mean something. Friendliness? Friendship? He wasn’t sure. But she was being incredibly nice to him, maybe he should accept it, or something. He wasn’t sure.

“Thank you,” he said, words coming slightly stilted out of his mouth. He began to push himself up, trying to get his body against a wall. He didn’t really think that just laying down there would be the best idea. He sat down, against a wall just outside the room.

The bruises and the bashes on his face and chest could be seen now, although he didn’t really think about that.
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Hideaway · Storage Closet