Kael should've known better than to follow them here. But once Jacob had his arm hooked around his neck, there was no turning back.
The air in this abandoned hallway was colder, dust clinging to every surface. The walls were old, patched and broken and it was through one of those breaks that the "view" began.
Jacob and the other guy pressed their eyes forward instantly.
"Damn…" one of them whispered, his grin wide. "She's got the kind of hips that'll kill a man."
"Forget hips... look at those thighs. Bro, those lace panties are literally begging to snap."
Kael, standing a step behind them, turned his face sharply to the side, cheeks burning. Nope. Nope. Not doing this. Not me.
But their banter painted the picture anyway.
"She dropped her blouse oh my God, those things could suffocate someone."
"Shh, keep it down you'll ruin this. Damn, she's giggling. See the short skirt? Bro, that's not even a skirt that's a napkin hanging by a thread."
Laughter hissed through their teeth as they pointed, nudged, and nearly bumped into each other trying to get the best view. Their voices dripped with half-shocked excitement, like kids at a circus they weren't supposed to be at.
He… stood stiff as a statue, his bag still slung across his shoulder, pretending none of this was happening. He angled his head away, as if staring at the peeling paint on the opposite wall was the most fascinating thing in the world.
But his ears didn't betray him. Every whisper, every snicker from his friends dug into him. He could see the scene without looking girls' laughter, fabric sliding, thighs moving smooth under thin skirts, curves accentuated by the careless way they walked.
Jacob elbowed him lightly, not looking back. "Bro, you're seriously missing out. This—this is art. The gods themselves couldn't paint it better."
"I'm not looking," Kael muttered through clenched teeth.
"Sure you're not," the other one snickered. "But your ears are wide open, huh? Hah, your face says it all."
Kael hissed under his breath, forcing a smirk like he wasn't affected. But his heart thudded violently. What the hell am I even doing here?
Behind the wall, more giggles, the sound of hangers clicking, skirts swishing, bare feet padding across the floor. The view his friends enjoyed was vivid, erotic, and careless.
And whether he wanted to admit it or not. was standing on the edge of temptation, caught between being the "good guy" and the magnetic pull of what his friends were seeing.
Kael had sworn he wouldn't look. Sworn it to himself like a sacred vow.
But fate or maybe just his cursed curiosity was cruel.
Through the crack of the wall, just for a flicker, he thought he saw her.
A familiar sway of hips. A streak of hair. Selira?
His heart stopped cold. No way… it can't be her. It can't
Against every ounce of willpower, Kael bent down ever so slightly, just to confirm. Just to prove his mind wrong.
And that's when it happened.
A voice cracked, sharp as thunder:
"HEY!!"
The girls' shriek exploded like a grenade.
He froze then panicked. He jerked back so fast he lost balance, crashing against the wall with a loud thud. His bag flew off his shoulder. His hands scrambled to push himself up—too late.
The door to the dressing room burst open.
And then they came.
Half-dressed, skirts crooked, tops slipping, laces dangling, hair wild from being mid-change, an army of furious girls stormed him. Their curves swayed with every step, thighs flashing, but their faces burned with righteous fire.
His eyes went wide. Oh shi—
Before he could finish the thought, they were on him.
"Pervert!!"
"Creep!!"
"You disgusting !"
They didn't even pause to fix their clothes. boobs jiggling, skirts swaying as they rained fists and slaps down on him.
He tried to shield himself. "Wait wait! No! You don't understand—I wasn't—!!"
SMACK.
A palm across his cheek.
KICK.
Right to his side.
"Liar!!"
Their voices rose in a chorus of rage, drowning out his stuttering explanations.
All the while—ironically, cruelly, Kael couldn't notice. Laced panties inches from his face. Curves brushing his shoulders as they shoved him back. The glimpse of smooth thighs as they moved. It was torment, temptation, and humiliation all rolled into one nightmare.
He was lashed, stomped, dragged, cursed. His heart thundered, his face burned and all he could think was:
Why the hell is this my life?!
Jacob and the other friend? Gone. Vanished. Bolted the moment the first scream erupted. Kael had seen them out of the corner of his eye running like rats fleeing a sinking ship, abandoning him to his doom.
The girls didn't let up.
By the time Kael finally staggered out of the hallway.. shirt crooked, hair a mess, dignity shattered. he could barely walk.
His entire body screamed regret.
His mind echoed louder: I should never have followed them. Never.
For once, Kael had no snark, no excuse, no playful banter. Just shame. Shame and the image of dozens of furious faces seared into his memory… right alongside the curves and
lace that had doomed him
Kael limped the whole way home that evening, dragging his feet like they carried iron weights. His shirt was torn at the hem, dust smeared across his knees, and the sting of fresh scratches burned every time he moved his arms. His hands red, swollen, cut—were wrapped clumsily in makeshift bandages he tied himself with trembling fingers.
Every step echoed with the memory of screams, slaps, and the shame of that cursed dressing room fiasco.
By the time he reached his room, Kael dropped like a stone onto his bed, face buried into the sheets. His body pulsed with pain, but it was nothing compared to the ache inside.
He hadn't cried, but he wanted to.
The next morning… silence.
Kael didn't show up at school.
At first, Jacob and the other friend laughed it off. "He's probably still licking his wounds," Jacob joked, though his grin faltered. By the time the second period ended, the laughter was gone.
"Yo… maybe we went too far," the other muttered.
Jacob stayed quiet, guilt twisting in his gut. They both knew they'd abandoned Kael—run off without a glance back while he got destroyed.
Still… they didn't talk about it. Just exchanged worried looks, their silence louder than words.
And By midday, whispers spread in the classroom.
"Where's Kael?"
"He's never absent."
"Something happened?"
Mia, sitting by the window with her usual composed air, twirled her pen between her fingers. But behind her calm mask, her mind ticked fast. He didn't text. Didn't show. Didn't even send a word.
Her lips curved slightly, unreadable.
Across the room, Aimee stole a glance at Kael's empty seat. The way her chest tightened surprised even her. She brushed her hair back, trying to dismiss the thought.
But her pen had been pressing too hard on her notebook, the ink bleeding.
...
By afternoon, Jacob spotted Mia leaving class with a questioning glance toward Kael's desk. He swallowed. For the first time, the guilt felt heavier than the joke.
Meanwhile, at home, Kael lay flat on his bed, eyes half-lidded, staring at the ceiling with bandaged hands resting over his chest.
The room was silent.
Except for one thought that wouldn't leave him:
I can't go back. Not like this.
Kael lay sprawled on his bed, the weight of his body sinking deep into the mattress. His bandaged hands ached with every small twitch, a reminder of yesterday's humiliation, the kind of bruise that lingered more in the mind than in the skin.
The room was silent.. until the sudden buzz at his side.
His phone lit up.
He didn't move.
Buzz. Buzz.
With a slow, tired turn of his head, he squinted at the glow on the nightstand. The screen blurred, then sharpened.
Jacob.
"Bro… where are you? You didn't show up today."
"Listen, about yesterday… I swear we didn't think it'd go that bad."
"Please answer me, man."
Kael's throat tightened. His thumb hovered over the phone for a second. then fell away. He pushed the screen face-down and dragged a pillow over his head.
Time bled forward.
Another buzz. Softer this time. Almost cautious.
Mia.
"Kael, are you alright?"
"You looked off yesterday. I… I'm worried."
He swallowed, chest tight. Mia's words cut different than Jacob's. She wasn't guilty, she was concerned. That kind of concern felt dangerous, almost unbearable.
Kael turned onto his side, eyes tracing the shadows dancing on his ceiling. He wanted to reply. To say something.
But the phone dimmed, and the room returned to silence.
The night dragged him down. His bag still lay where he had thrown it on the floor, his heart beating too fast, as though every vibration of the phone had rooted itself inside his chest.
He whispered into the emptiness, his voice raw:
"I can't even face them… damn it."
And just like that, the silence answered back.