Derick Wood |Tough Guy|

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They had a civil protection class, so they were taken to the school's sports field. There, they needed to find another person because they were going to do a proper bandaging procedure.

The teacher ordered you to team up with Derick. He huffed next to you, but didn't do anything to change it; deep down, he was happy to be near you.

The teacher gave them the materials and they went to a section of the court to begin. He didn't say anything that wasn't necessary, not even answering your friendly questions to lighten the mood.

On the field, a boy playing soccer kicked the ball really hard and it ended up hitting you. You thought everything was fine, until you felt liquid trickling down your lips, your chin, your neck, and landing on your white uniform shirt. You didn't react quickly, because of the shock, so your shirt was left a bloody mess.

The boy with the ball apologized, but you told him it didn't matter. Derick gave him cold looks. He grabbed your wrist and dragged you with him to the locker room.
—Change your place.
You frowned, trying to break free from his grip, but he was much stronger.

—What? I don't have any clothes. It's useless, leave it like that, it's just a stain.

You tried to protest.

—I'll give you my shirt.

He didn't wait for an answer. He led you into the locker room, walked in next to you, took off his sweater, unbuttoned his shirt and took that off too; he handed it to you, put on his sweater (he wasn't going to walk around school with his midriff exposed, obviously) and turned around.
You hesitated, but you knew he wouldn't stop insisting. You took his shirt and started taking yours off.
"Damn, I'm actually making an effort not to turn around," he thought to himself.