My head spins, a kaleidoscope of black patches swirling in and out until the darkness takes over completely. It feels like a full minute before the world starts to come back into focus.

Vatsal's voice cuts through the haze, shaky and insistent, repeating the same words over and over. 'I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry.'

'I'm sorry for today,' he says.

I can barely register it over the hammering in my ears. His hand is still clamped over my mouth, the other pinning my arms behind me. My heart slams into my ribs as my vision sharpens, and I realize just how close he is.

Too close.

His body presses into mine, the heat of him suffocating, nausea curling in my stomach. His minty breath fans against my cheek, and I instinctively jerk my head back, recoiling from the feel of it.

I try to scream, but the sound is nothing more than a muffled whimper, swallowed by his hand.

'I'M SORRY, OKAY! NOW WILL YOU SHUT UP AND LISTEN!' he whisper-yells at me. My tears spill onto his hand, but he doesn't let go.

'I know this isn't the best way to make you hear me, but it's the only way you'll understand.' His grip eases just slightly, but the wild look in his eyes is anything but comforting. 'Romil doesn't love you.'

I twist and thrash, screaming harder, but it only seems to fuel him. His hold tightens and a cruel smirk garbles his mouth into something sinister.

'You don't believe me, do you?' he sneers, and then he mumbles to himself, 'Okay, okay, okay.'

My mind feels like it's unravelling, but the scream still claws its way out of me—raw and useless. The realization creeps in like ice: the door is closed. The blinds are drawn. The halls are empty, the grounds deserted. The room is soundproof.

No one will hear me.

His laughter slices through the air, sharp and unhinged. It's the kind of laugh that freezes my voice in my throat. My body stills instinctively. Something about watching him unravel, about the wild edge in his eyes, makes me stop everything. I close my eyes, trying to focus, trying to push through the panic.

When I open them, I meet his gaze and force out a strangled, trembling, 'Please.'

It's barely a sound, more a plea made of breath, but it's enough to pause him. His laughter dies, and for a fleeting moment, he studies me. Then, he steps back.

Without his grip, I crumble to the floor, curling in on myself as my legs give way. He starts pacing, his restless footsteps landing heavy between me and the door, cutting off any chance I have to bolt.

'I'm not a bad person,' he mutters, his voice low and feverish. 'I just... like you. I want you to like me too.' He pauses, but I don't look up at him. My head is hurting with pinpricks of pain.

'Don't trust him,' he continues, his words dripping with venom. 'That bastard was never supposed to touch you. He was supposed to—'

The knob rattles, and his whole body stiffens. Someone's out there. A shadow moves behind the blinds, a face trying to peer through the slats.

Vatsal stares at the door, the rattling sound persistent but futile. It isn't budging.

With two quick strides, he's back in front of me. I shrink away instinctively, the sight of him stirring a wave of revulsion deep in my gut.

'Do you want to?' he asks, crouching until we're eye level.

'What?' I manage, my voice strange and unsteady, like it belongs to someone else.

'Be with me. Leave Romil,' he says, his tone clipped, his expression taut like he's summoning every ounce of restraint.

I shake my head, my voice trembling. 'Go away, Vatsal. You're going to get yourself in trouble.'

He rises slowly, his expression unreadable as he heads back toward the door. Just before he turns the handle, he throws a look over his shoulder.

'We'll see,' he says, and pushes it open.

Romil stares at him, cluelessly. Before he can voice a single question, his gaze locks onto mine. In an instant, he's closing the distance, dropping to his knees beside me in a fluid, almost frantic motion.

He cups my face in his hands, his voice soft but urgent. 'Are you okay?'

I nod, even though everything feels a little tilted, a little wrong.

He jerks his head towards the door, but Vatsal is gone.

'What did he say?' he asks, brushing a strand of hair from my cheek.

I shake my head, the words echoing in my mind like they're bouncing off hollow walls. Romil doesn't love you.

I look at him, something foreign and jagged settling in my chest as I try to fit this new, missing piece of a puzzle I've been trying to solve.

'Do you love me?' I ask, my hands trembling as they press against his, holding them in place.

His eyes search mine, and for a moment too long, he doesn't say anything. The silence cuts deeper than I thought it could.

Then, finally: 'I do.'

I pull back slightly, my head shaking, disbelief spilling out of me. 'You had to think about that?'

'No,' he says quickly, his voice rising in earnestness. 'I wasn't—I wasn't thinking if I love you. I was thinking why you'd even ask that. Did he... did he say something to you?'

It's my turn to take a pause now.

'Most of it didn't make sense.'

'And what did?' he asks, his voice careful.

I hesitate, the words catching in my throat. 'He said you don't love me. That I shouldn't trust you. That you're not supposed to touch me, and that—'

Before I can finish, he pulls me into a hug, his arms folding around me like a shield. One hand settles on my head, smoothing down to the ends of my hair, his touch deliberate and calming.

'He's wrong,' he murmurs against my temple. 'It's not true. None of it.'

My heartbeat slows, the erratic rhythm evening out as I sink into him, my body moulding to his like it's the only place it belongs.

'He said he likes me,' I murmur, the words sticking in my throat. 'Then he asked if I liked him, and when I told him to go away, he said—'

'Hey,' Romil interrupts gently, his voice low and steady, like he's afraid too much noise might break me. 'He's gone. I swear, he's not coming near you again. I'll make sure of it. No next time. I promise.'

I nod, but the knot in my stomach doesn't loosen.

'Do you want to eat something?' he asks, like food might fix this. Like anything could.

I shake my head. 'No,' I manage. 'I feel like I might throw up.'

'Come on, let's get you out of here.' He slips an arm around me, guiding me to my feet. My legs feel unsteady, like they might give out any second, but his grip is firm.

We step out into the hallway, and the rush of air feels like the first breath after being in a claustrophobic place too long. I glance back at the classroom, its door swinging slightly ajar, and already I know: I won't be able to set foot in there again without feeling like I'm suffocating.