4 - cracks in the wall

                                    

                                          
The rain hadn't stopped all day. The gray clouds hung low, and the steady drumming of droplets against glass followed Harper everywhere she went. She didn't mind the rain—usually, it was calming—but today, her thoughts were anything but.
Her sketchbook sat open on the table, half-finished figures staring back at her as she sat tucked into a corner of the campus library. She rested her chin in her hand, spinning her pencil idly between her fingers.
Her mind drifted—again—back to him.
Blackwood. Adrian Blackwood.
She'd heard the name before, whispered on the edge of conversations, but never gave it much thought. Now, though, she found herself piecing things together. It was strange how rumors could wrap around a person like chains.
"Did you hear about Blackwood?"
Harper's ears perked up. She blinked and looked toward a table across the room where two students sat, whispering too loudly to actually be discreet.
"Yeah," the girl said. "He's, like... never been the same since the accident."
"What accident?"
"You don't know?" The girl's voice dropped. "Car accident. His dad died. It was bad—really bad. He was practically a ghost for a year, then he comes back, and now he's just... like that."
The boy with her scoffed. "I heard he got in a fight last semester. Nearly broke someone's jaw."
Harper's hand froze on her pencil.
"That's what happens when you don't deal with your issues."
Irritating.
The way people talked about him—like he was nothing more than a story to tell over coffee—made Harper's stomach twist. She snapped her sketchbook shut and stood abruptly, gathering her things.
Adrian slouched in his chair, eyes fixed on the clock.
The professor's voice was muffled, blending with the hum of rain against the windows. He wasn't listening—hadn't been for weeks. Or months.
"Mr. Blackwood?"
Adrian blinked slowly, the name registering a second too late.
The entire lecture hall turned to stare.
"Could you answer the question?" the professor repeated, a hint of irritation in her tone.
Adrian dragged his gaze toward her, unfazed. "Can you repeat it?"
The professor's lips thinned. "I asked about the central theme of the passage I just read."
Adrian barely glanced at the textbook in front of him. "Alienation. Isolation. Take your pick."
There were a few scattered laughs from the back rows. The professor didn't look amused.
"Maybe try reading the material next time," she said curtly, turning her attention back to the lecture.
Adrian's fists clenched, but he said nothing. He heard them—voices just behind him, whispers cutting sharper than they should.
"Such a waste of space now."
"Wasn't he, like, top of his class before?"
"Yeah. Now he just... exists."
Adrian didn't wait. He shoved his notebook into his bag and pushed out of his seat, ignoring the startled glances and the professor's shout of "Mr. Blackwood!" as he stormed out of the hall.
The rain had slowed to a drizzle by the time Adrian found the small courtyard near the art building. It was quiet here, tucked away from the noise of campus—just the steady patter of rain hitting the leaves above. He sank onto a bench, head tipped back as he closed his eyes.