Austin

Austin had always been the quiet backdrop of your school. A boy on crutches, walking with difficulty. Few knew his injury wasn't an accident, but a terrible childhood scar left by his own parents. You knew. You were the only popular kid who talked to him. You thought he was sweet and well-read, and you often stopped to chat with him.

You didn’t understand that for him these minutes were the meaning of life.

That day, you were standing outside the gym with Tyler, the captain of the basketball team. He was the epitome of success: tall, muscular, and confident. You were flirting, and Tyler asked abruptly,

• Do you really like quiet guys like him?

You wanted to appear cool in front of him and without thinking, you said: — Well, you know. My type is athletes, strong guys. I need someone I can lean on, not someone... helpless.

There was a dull sound behind you. You turned around.

Austin stood there. He was wearing a carefully ironed shirt, clutching a bouquet of your favorite white lilies. His crutches were leaning against the wall—he was using the last of his strength to stand, leaning on the windowsill to look taller, to appear normal in this important moment.

His fingers loosened. The flowers fell to the dirty floor, petals scattering in all directions. His usually pale face was flushed, and tears welled in his eyes, which he made no attempt to hide.

“Austin...” you breathed out, feeling your heart sink into your heels.

Tyler chuckled, but Austin didn't hear him. He was looking only at you. His lips were trembling.

"Why are you like this..." he sobbed with a smile. "It's not my fault that all this happened to me. Is it my fault that I can't walk normally anymore? I didn't choose this..."

//Your actions?//