Fletcher was sure he was going insane.

Because here he was, standing in the midst of the school hallway, with a wave of students passing by him like tidal waves, and for the first time in his life he can actually see.

It's hard to describe, but it was almost like this: you don't see everything in passing. It's not normal to see every detail, every wrinkle, every emotion on someone's face when you pass by them during a second of the day. But Fletcher could. He could see the worry etched onto Mr. Hamilton's features — the strictest, lifeless teacher on campus — as he rushed to his classroom; he could see the anger flaming in Cameron Yoon's eyes — the calmest student in his junior year — as he talked on the phone with his mum; he could see embarrassment painted on Lilian Rivera's cheeks — the most badass girl their school's ever had to deal with — as she keep looking back to someone on the other end of the hallway.

And that's the problem. Fletcher shouldn't be able to see these things in the first place.

But he's been seeing it since this morning, these strange new expressions, on everyone he came across and, for a while, Fletcher thought he was just mistaken, but now, he just wanted to believe he did.

"Hi, Fletcher."

He almost jumped. Turning around, Fletcher stood face-to-face with Thea Banks — only she didn't look like herself. Not really. She still wore her smile, but it wasn't as perfect as it usually was. It was bent.

Fletcher couldn't bring himself to frown at her. Or speak properly. "What — what are you..."

"We'll be late for AP Bio, silly," Thea said as if Fletcher hadn't be silently brushing her off and they'd been walking to class together for the past few weeks.

Then catching the look on his face — which was most likely anything but his typical scowl — her eyes soften and she tilted her head. "Are you okay?"

"Do you see it too?"

It was obvious that Thea was worried. "See what?"

"This —" Fletcher gestured to their surroundings. "Do you see it?"

Thea took a good look around. Despite Fletcher being practically crazy, she was being awfully serious. When she was done, she turned back to him and said, "No. I don't see anything."

—

Fletcher didn't dare lift his head up the rest of the day. Not when he walked to class, not when there were notes to copy on the board, not even when Mrs. Cuthbert called him out to answer her question about Hamlet — and God knew how much of a perfectionist that woman is.

Because, really, what do you do when you see something no one else could?

Freaking out seemed like the most rational reaction, but then again, Fletcher already did that and it didn't really help.

Ignoring the situation, however, seemed like the most sensible response, especially since it came easier to Fletcher. Although it may be impossible to forget, pretending something that was there wasn't made it almost feel like it never existed. And if you did that long enough, it'll feel like it was all in your head.

Pretending was the next best thing to hope when you grew up without any. And Fletcher knew that all too well.

The downfall to all of that was Roman Alonso, who Fletcher didn't realise he bumped into until Roman's friends called him out and circled around him.

"Watch where you're going, Greenly."

Here's the thing about Roman and his friends — they're dicks. In retrospect, even though stereotypes aren't all that true, some people do fit into that category. And in this case, the jocks in Fletcher's highschool were exactly like the ones in the movies. Tall, muscle-y, arrogant as fuck — despite being a little more diverse, they basically checked the whole box.

One of Roman's friends, Andrew, stepped forward and poked Fletcher at the side. "Quiet all of a sudden, Greenly?"

His other friend, Levi, grabbed the tips of Fletcher's ginger hair and pulled his face up. "Come on, where's that signature scowl you always have on? You're not scared of us, are you?"

Fletcher gritted his teeth. Like hell he would.

He looked up — he was always known to self-destruct anyways, so why not start now? — and glared at Levi right in the eye, who had a smirk wide across his face.

"There it is," Levi said, drunk with dominance. He took Fletcher's glasses and let him go. "You know, with these glasses, you almost look normal."

"Give them back."

"Take 'em from me then."

Before Fletcher could snatch his glasses back from Levi, they were tossed to Andrew, who held them up and laughed while saying, "Not so tough now, are you, Greenly?"

That riled him up for some reason and soon, Fletcher found himself grabbing Andrew by the collar, dragging him down to his level, and kneeing him in the stomach before he punched him right across the face. And he did the same to Levi, who started to charge at him, but he kicked him on the way out afterwards when he fell.

Then he turned Roman, whose eyes were like daggers as he now held onto Fletcher's glasses, which were somehow tossed to him during the chaos. Despite his poor sight, Fletcher could trace the scowl on his face before he grabbed his wrist, twisted it, and took his glasses. And when Fletcher wore them again, a few moments before he was about to knee Roman in the crotch, he watched as his eyes shifted from anger to sadness and how the frown he had on deepened in despair — almost as if Roman couldn't bear the person he had become.

So Fletcher stepped back, slowly until he started running, and for the first time realising how far down he has gotten himself into.