The world seemed to tilt the moment Ezra saw that photo.
A single blurry frame on a phone screen, and suddenly everything he'd been afraid of came crashing closer than ever.
Him. Noah. On the rooftop.
Not holding hands, not even touching, but the way their bodies leaned toward each other, the way their faces looked lit with something unspoken—anyone with sharp enough eyes could twist it into something scandalous.
Ezra's stomach turned.
"Delete it," Noah said flatly, his voice cold enough to freeze the air between them.
The boy holding the phone—tall, cocky, the kind of student who fed on drama like oxygen—just laughed. "And why would I do that? This is… valuable."
Ezra's voice cracked when he finally managed to speak. "What do you want?"
The boy leaned against the fence like he had all the time in the world. "Easy. Do my assignments. All of them. Keep my grades from drowning, and this photo stays between us." His smirk widened. "Slip once, and everyone gets to see what you two were doing on that rooftop."
Ezra's hands curled into fists, but his whole body trembled. Noah stepped forward, anger sparking in his eyes, but Ezra grabbed his wrist. One wrong move, one reckless punch—and their lives would blow apart.
"Fine," Ezra whispered. "We'll think about it."
"Don't think too long." The boy pocketed his phone, humming as he walked away, like he'd just won the lottery.
---
Ezra didn't remember how he and Noah left the field. He only remembered the way Noah's hand lingered at his elbow, steadying him even when they didn't speak a word.
The greenhouse that evening smelled of damp soil and wilted petals. Adrian sat on the stone bench, tapping a pencil against his notebook, while Lucien paced the length of the floor, his boots crunching on stray gravel.
Ezra told them everything. The rooftop photo. The threat. The demand. His voice shook the whole time, but he got the words out.
Silence followed, so thick it pressed against his ribs.
Then Lucien exploded.
"You're kidding me, right? You're actually thinking of giving in to that jerk?" He spun on his heel, his eyes flashing. "Letting him own you? That's what he wants! That's how people like him win."
"What's the alternative?" Ezra shot back, his voice louder than he meant it to be. "If that picture spreads—if my mom sees it, if the teachers see it—I'm done! I can't—"
Lucien slammed his fist into the greenhouse wall, dust falling from the old glass panes. "Then let it spread! At least it's the truth. Better than crawling on your knees for someone like him."
Adrian's voice finally cut through, calm but sharp. "Lucien."
Lucien whirled on him. "What? You agree with him? You'd rather they just roll over?"
Adrian stood slowly, meeting Lucien's burning gaze. "I'd rather they survive. Not everyone can live like you, Lucien—facing the fire and daring it to burn. Some people don't want to be ashes."
Ezra's throat tightened. Adrian's words felt like both a shield and a mirror—understanding but also painfully true.
Lucien's jaw clenched. "And what about you? Hiding behind your calm face forever? You think silence saves anyone?"
Adrian didn't flinch. "Silence saves the people I love."
The argument crackled like static, filling the air with something dangerous. Ezra wanted to shout, to run, to vanish—but Noah's voice came, low and steady, anchoring them all.
"We're not letting him win," Noah said, his eyes dark and unyielding.
Lucien scoffed. "And how exactly? He has proof. You think you can scare him off?"
Noah looked first at Ezra, then at Adrian and Lucien. His words were heavy, deliberate. "Not alone. But together."
For the first time, none of them argued.
Ezra looked around the greenhouse—the cracked glass, the shadowed plants, the three boys standing around him. And for the first time, he felt something stronger than fear settle in his chest.
Not safety. Not certainty. But something close to hope.
The secret wasn't just his anymore. It was theirs.
And so was the fight.