Through the sheet of glass down the middle of the door, I saw him approach. He turned the door handle agonisingly slowly. He then pushed his shoulder into the door and nudged it open.
I was waiting for a tsunami of flirtatious, charming and somewhat arrogant behaviour to flood through the door as he stepped in - his usual confident self. But he scuffed in with his head bowed to his chest and his hands fumbled at his bag. He slid surreptitiously into his chair - two rows in front of mine - and pulled out relevant books, pens and pencils. And then leant his elbow onto his paper.
I couldn't tell his expression from where I was sat but he seemed to be distant: not really focused on anything, especially not the practise exam that lay on the table before him. The teacher had walked in by now but made no impact on the class and clearly didn't have a lesson plan, so I continued to study Chase, ignoring the revision guide in front of me.
I racked my brain, trying to figure out what was wrong with him. Stressed about exams? Probably, but that didn't cause this behaviour. Girlfriends? I've only heard him spend one night with girls so, I'm thinking not. Maybe home life? I didn't know about his home life. I felt a concern replace the cold feeling in my chest.
I watched a tear roll down his cheek and splatter onto the empty page in front of him.
The concern ate away at my heart.
