Justin was never the type of person who was always constantly cheerful. In fact, he was the complete opposite--gloomy and apathetic, blankly staring at people until they left him alone, even on a normal day.
But anyone who knew Justin well--which was a very select few--would’ve been able to tell that this was bad even for someone like him. He was more quiet than usual, his attention not with his teachers or the work at hand, but rather glowering down at his desk or looking out the window. His teachers had tried to get his attention throughout the day to no avail, and he had even walked past his friends with a dark expression without acknowledging their existence.
His break hadn’t come soon enough. Instead of using the time productively to look over his notes and do some readings, he all but shoved his books into his bag and sat down with his lunch. Was 1pm too early for alcohol? He really did feel like some beer.
He had gone out of his way not be found by anyone that he cared about--a feat that was quite easy in a campus as large as this one. But Justin always forgot that there was at least one person who knew where he would be when he wasn’t in the mood, and that they’d be the only one him to get him to talk about what was wrong.
When he heard footsteps approach, he merely looked down at his container of pasta with a glare before saying, “Did the group send you to find out why I’m being more of an asshole than usual?”
