The next day, the corridors buzzed louder than usual. Whispers slipped between lockers, glances darted across the hallway like sparks looking for fuel.
Ezra felt it the moment he walked in — the shift in the air, the way people's eyes lingered on him just a second too long. By third period, he knew something had spread.
When he slid into his seat in history class, Noah wasn't looking at him. His jaw was tight, his hand curled into a fist on the desk.
"What happened?" Ezra whispered.
Noah's eyes flicked toward the back of the room where Lucien sat, leaning back like he owned the place, his gaze fixed on Ezra with unreadable calm. Beside him, Adrian kept his head down, scribbling something into his notebook.
"Someone saw," Noah muttered. "On the rooftop."
Ezra's chest went cold. "Saw what?"
"You know what."
The teacher's voice droned in the background, but Ezra wasn't hearing it. His pulse was loud in his ears.
---
At lunch, the four of them ended up at the same table — not by choice, but because the cafeteria was full, and there was nowhere else to sit. The silence between them was thick, almost dangerous.
Lucien was the first to speak. "So. I hear we've got something in common now."
Noah's glare could have cut glass. "You think this is a joke?"
"Not really," Lucien said, smirking without warmth. "But it's easier to laugh than to panic, isn't it?"
Adrian finally looked up. "It doesn't matter who saw what. What matters is what happens next."
Ezra's voice was quiet but steady. "What happens next is we keep this to ourselves. No one says anything."
"And if the rumors keep growing?" Lucien asked.
"Then we deny it," Noah said quickly.
Lucien's eyes lingered on Noah for a moment, then shifted to Ezra. "You're really okay with pretending it never happened?"
Ezra felt Noah stiffen beside him. He hesitated before answering. "If it keeps us safe, yes."
Noah looked away.
The bell rang before anyone could say more, but as they stood, Ezra noticed something — the way Adrian's hand brushed Lucien's arm just briefly, almost like a silent reassurance.
And it hit him: the secrets they were all hiding weren't separate anymore.
They were tangled.
And when one came undone, they all would.
---