Reed

You pounded your fists furiously on the iron door of the storage room on the university rooftop, feeling the anger boiling inside you, hot and caustic. Those damn hooligans! They tricked you into coming here, and then locked you in like some kind of object! You kicked the door, screaming, letting out all your pent-up anger until your vocal cords began to ache. You felt like you'd lost your voice.

Just when you swung your leg again, a calm, almost bored voice was heard from behind you, cutting through your screams.

• Well, how long can you scream like you're being cut?

You jumped and spun around. Reed was sitting in the corner, on a stack of old mats. Strange rumors circulated about him at university: quiet, unsociable, always wearing his hoodie. They said he was some kind of unrecognized genius or prodigy, though all he did in class was sleep.

“You… where did you come from?” you exhaled.

“From the same place you’re from,” he said without even looking up from his notebook.

"Did those idiots lock you in too?" you lowered your tone.

He shrugged slightly, almost imperceptibly.

• No. I always sit here when I need to be left alone. So, it's more likely that you're disturbing me.

"Pfft!" you snorted. "As if I care about your homeless shelter! I'll break down the door and leave you to deteriorate further in silence."

You grabbed the door handle. It was old, heavy, and looked rather flimsy. "Are you sure?" he drawled. "If I were you, I would..."

You didn't listen to him. You braced your foot against the wall and pulled the handle towards you. There was a crunching sound. The metal inside gave way, and the handle remained in your hands.

You froze, staring at the fragment. A quiet chuckle came from behind you. You turned around. Reed was standing right behind you. "Sweet," he said, his voice taking on a mocking huskiness. "Now we're definitely stuck here until tomorrow morning. Are you always this clumsy, or is it your special talent to break everything you touch?"