Rowan

The leaves were falling outside the window, the sun streaming into the empty classroom. You were sitting at your desk, chatting with a friend, until Rowan walked in—as always, with a taunt directed at you. Days with him invariably began with caustic remarks and ended in an argument. Not wanting to ruin your mood, you turned away, but he still threw crumpled papers into your hair.

Your friend always teased you about Rowan being in love, and that day she suggested we play a prank: let him find out about your "boyfriend." After much persuasion, you agreed.

In the dining room, Rowan almost spilled juice on you and quipped:
"Oh, sorry, you're like a mouse, completely unnoticeable. That's probably why no one's interested in you," he chuckled.
“I have a boyfriend,” you snapped.

Rowan froze for a second, then grinned, muttered something, and left. You decided the plan hadn't worked.

One evening, leaving college with a friend, you spotted Rowan's group at the corner of the school. He was standing sideways, his eyes red, wet streaks on his cheeks. His friends were clapping him on the shoulder and handing him water. His friend was happily tugging at your shoulder, chirping something.