stealing the janitor's keys. the bomb shelter under the auditorium,  rubbish and cigarette smoke; or the cleaning cupboards, or the book storage tunnel, or windowless practice rooms and the decrepit pianos - no lights, staring competitions, watching and watching and watching until your face melted into something else in the darkness. and over the tiles to the bell tower. on our backs in that plaster spaceship, the rim of blue sky. skipping class. empty science lab. the gas taps. it's not like the last time they did this to you. it's not because you're not cool, or anything like that. but I feel like I constantly have to wipe your nose for you.

and at that moment my nose dripped. crying without crying.