Jenny's boyfriend walked toward me slowly, each step deliberate, the kind of swagger that felt like a threat in itself. He laughed under his breath, cruel and sharp, eyes locked on me like I was prey. My heart slammed against my ribs, and before I could back away, his hand shot out and grabbed the collar of my sweater, yanking me forward.
"You scared, cheater?" he said, lips curling into a smirk.
Confusion struck harder than fear. My mouth opened, but my voice got stuck in my throat, a lump of terror and disbelief cutting me off. Cheater? What was he talking about?
His face loomed closer, his breath hot against mine. "I said, are you scared?"
I couldn't answer. Silence clung to me, suffocating, my hands frozen at my sides.
"Huh?!" His shout cracked through the street, and before I could even think, his fist connected with my face. Pain exploded across my mouth, metallic warmth spilling out instantly.
"Never let me see your face again," he snarled.
Jenny was behind him, her eyes sharp but nervous, her hand tugging at his sleeve. "Not now," she muttered. "Later."
He finally let go, shoving me back, his glare burning into me as they turned and walked away.
I stood frozen for what felt like forever, blood dripping down my chin, chest caving under the weight of words I didn't understand. Jenny had told him I cheated? My head spun with questions, but no answers came.
By the time I stumbled home, it was nearly midnight. My reflection in the bathroom mirror was a stranger — split lip, bruise blooming under my mouth, eyes hollow from exhaustion. I collapsed into bed around twelve, and six hours later, I was dragging myself to school with barely any sleep.
The morning bell rang, pulling me deeper into my haze. My body felt heavy, like I was carrying bricks on my shoulders. I dropped into my seat, laying my head on my arm. My clothes were back to my usual black, nothing like the colorful sweater and jeans I'd worn that Saturday.
Xavier slid into the seat beside me, smirk tugging at his lips. "What happened to yesterday's look? Kind of miss it." His tone was joking, but something softer flickered in his eyes.
I didn't answer. My silence stretched too long, and his smile faded. He leaned closer, tapping my shoulder gently. "You okay?"
I lifted my head slowly. The bruise above my lip was impossible to hide, and the dark bags under my eyes told the rest of the story. Xavier's eyes sharpened instantly, worry etched into his features.
"What the hell happened?" he asked, voice low, serious.
"Please," I whispered, throat dry. "Don't tell anyone."
His gaze didn't waver. "I won't. But tell me."
The words spilled out, shaky. "Jenny's boyfriend. He… he said I was a cheater. I don't know why. I swear, Xavier, I'm not—" My voice cracked, desperation bleeding into it. "I swear I'm not."
His jaw clenched, his hand tightening on his desk. "I know," he said firmly. No hesitation, no doubt. Just conviction.
Lunch came, and I sat with Xavier's friends again — Nick, Ethan, and Andrew. They joked like always, tossing playful comments back and forth, but I barely touched my food. My head pounded, my body hot, though the room felt cold.
Xavier sat close beside me, his arm brushing mine now and then. The contact made me shiver, but not from the fever. When his hand grazed mine by accident, he paused, then turned his head sharply. His eyes narrowed at me, suspicious.
Before I could react, his palm pressed against my forehead.
"You're burning," he muttered, almost accusing.
Heat shot up my neck. I pushed his hand away quickly. "I'm fine."
He didn't believe me. I could see it in the way his jaw ticked, in the way his eyes lingered. But he didn't push, just muttered a clipped, "Okay."
The bell rang again, dragging us outside for Sports Day practice.
The sun was merciless. Even standing still felt like punishment, but when the coach lined us up for the hundred-meter dash, dread coiled in my stomach. My legs trembled as I crouched at the starting line, sweat dripping down my temple.
The whistle blew.
I forced myself forward, each step heavier than the last. My chest burned, breath shallow, the world tilting around me. I could barely hear the pounding footsteps beside me over the ringing in my ears.
"Hey, are you okay—" someone started to say.
But I never answered.
The ground ripped out from under me, and I collapsed, the track scorching against my skin as my vision blurred to white.
"Jay!" voices cried out, panicked.
Students crowded around instantly, their shadows blocking the sun.
"Is he breathing?""Someone call the nurse!""Jay, wake up!"
Through the fog, I caught sight of Xavier pushing through the circle, his friends close behind him. His voice cut through the chaos like a knife.
"Move!"
The crowd parted just enough for him to drop to his knees at my side. His hand pressed against my forehead, his expression tightening.
"Shit. You're burning up," he muttered, voice sharp but threaded with panic. His hand slid to my shoulder, steady, grounding. "Jay, stay with me. Don't close your eyes."
I tried. I really did. But my body wouldn't listen.
Ethan was already on the phone, calling the nurse, while Andrew and Nick hovered anxiously. "He looks really bad," Nick muttered.
Xavier didn't answer them. His attention was locked on me. He brushed damp hair back from my forehead with surprising gentleness, muttering low enough for only me to hear. "You should've have told me you were ok."
The nurse finally arrived, brisk and commanding. "Give him space. He needs to be moved to the infirmary."
"I'll take him," Xavier said immediately, his tone leaving no room for argument.
He slipped his arm under me, lifting me against his chest. My head lolled against him, my body too weak to resist, but his grip was steady, careful. He carried me past the whispers, past the stares, his eyes fixed straight ahead.
"You're going to be safe," he murmured under his breath, a promise meant only for me.
Hours later, I stirred awake. My body felt heavy, the air thick with antiseptic. Blinking against the dim light, I turned my head — and froze.
Xavier was sitting right in front of me. His elbows rested on his knees, eyes fixed on me like he hadn't moved in hours. His hair was messy, worry etched into every line of his face.
Panic rushed me. My heart spiked, mind twisting reality cruelly. I imagined him laughing at me, imagined him standing with Jenny's boyfriend, imagined his fists slamming into me. The fear choked me, my breath stuttering.
But then he spoke. "Hey. Your okay."
His voice was calm. Firm. Real.
The illusions shattered, leaving only him. My chest eased, my heart slowing reluctantly.
I turned my head and noticed others in the room.
My parents sat nearby. My mother's hand hovered on the bed, delicate but false, her smile practiced. My father glanced up from his phone only long enough to nod before looking away again.
They weren't here for me. Not really. They're being fake.
But Daniel was. He wasn't fake. He cared.
My older brother sat right next to the bed, arms crossed, eyes locked on me with a steady weight. His presence filled the room more than my parents' ever could.
"You look terrible," he said, voice blunt but warm.
My throat tightened. "...Dan?"
"Yeah. I'm here," he answered simply.
And for the first time that day, my chest felt just a little lighter.
Xavier's eyes never left me, sharp and unreadable, but the fire in them was undeniable — fierce, protective, and entirely focused on me.