You were weaving through the crowd, trying to get to your next class, when you noticed something strange up ahead.

A crowd. Not the usual clusters of friends catching up. This was different. Tight. Silent in patches. People standing on tiptoes, craning necks.

Someone shoved past you, muttering, Did you see what happened?

Another voice, hushed: Ezra completely destroyed him.

Your feet carried you forward before your brain caught up. You pushed through the wall of bodies, elbows working, ignoring the annoyed glances.

And then you saw him.

Ezra's chest rose and fell in heavy, uneven breaths. His hands were clenched at his sides. Blood dripped from his knuckles — some of it his, most of it not.

His dark hair fell across his face, but you could see the sharp line of his jaw, the tension in his shoulders.

Then his gaze lifted.

And landed on you.