The bell rang, sharp and final, and the hallways instantly came alive with chatter, footsteps, and the metallic slam of lockers. Gael walked at his usual steady pace, calm amidst the rush, his presence drawing eyes whether he wanted it to or not. As always, Mara and the rest of the girls clustered around him, their voices filling the gaps his silence left. "You know, Gael," Selene said, slipping in front of him to walk backward, "the way you move through the hall like you own it? Kinda suspicious." "Suspicious?" Calla grinned, looping her arm with Mara's. "More like hot. Admit it — if he was in some drama, he'd be the brooding lead everyone simps over." Mara rolled her eyes, but her cheeks carried a hint of color. "Don't drag me into this." Vivienne nudged her. "What do you mean, don't drag you in? You're already starring as his love interest." That earned a ripple of laughter from the group. Iris clapped her hands once. "Exactly! The Gael Show, episode ten: walking through the hall like gods, while the rest of us peasants part the crowd." The laughter grew louder, light and teasing, bouncing from one to another. But Gael? He didn't react. Not a blink, not a twitch of the lips. He just adjusted the strap of his backpack and kept walking, eyes forward, expression unreadable. Naomi trailed half a step behind the rest. She didn't laugh with them — not fully. Her eyes kept drifting to Gael's profile: the faint dampness at his hairline, the sharp lines of his jaw, the way his calm didn't seem empty but… full of something she couldn't name. She bit her lip, scolding herself for staring, for thinking too hard. It's nothing. He's just… Gael. And yet, when his gaze flicked briefly toward Mara — so brief the others didn't even notice — Naomi caught it. And for some reason, her stomach twisted.
The crowd thinned as they turned down the main corridor, but the teasing only got louder. "Honestly, Mara," Iris leaned close, her voice deliberately dramatic, "how do you survive walking next to him every day? Like—doesn't your heart explode?" Mara groaned, tugging her bag higher on her shoulder. "You're all insane. He's just Gael." "Just Gael?" Selene's eyebrows shot up. "Girl, no one in this hallway thinks he's 'just' anything." She gestured vaguely at the cluster of girls by the lockers, who were very obviously sneaking glances in Gael's direction. Vivienne grinned wickedly. "Look at them—half the school is thirsting over your so-called 'just Gael,' and yet he only walks with you." Mara felt her ears go hot. "That's not—he just happens to…" She trailed off, realizing there was no excuse that didn't sound like an admission. Calla swooped in to save her—well, not really. "He just happens to walk beside you, just happens to sit near you, just happens to go to your house for projects." She winked. "Sure, Mara. Totally a coincidence."
The laughter erupted again, louder than before. Even a couple of passing students turned their heads, curious about what was so funny. Gael remained unbothered, his steady steps carrying him forward as though the conversation orbiting him wasn't even there. He didn't look at Mara, didn't look at the girls, didn't react at all. And that only made it worse. "See?" Iris whispered, leaning dramatically toward Selene. "He's like an iceberg. No reaction. Which means Mara's the only one who can get a rise out of him." Selene smirked. "Then she's basically the Gael-whisperer." That set off another round of giggles, and Mara buried her face briefly in her hand. "Please," she muttered, though the faint smile tugging at her lips betrayed her. By the time they reached their next class, the girls were still buzzing with laughter and teasing energy, their voices a chorus around Gael's silence — and he, as always, walked through it all like he belonged to another world entirely.
The classroom buzzed with the usual noise before the teacher arrived. Books shuffled, pens clicked, conversations filled the air. The six girls claimed their usual cluster of desks, Mara sliding into the seat beside Gael, who already had his notebook neatly laid out, pen resting in perfect alignment. "Look at him," Calla muttered as she sat down, tilting her head to study Gael like he was a rare museum exhibit. "Notebooks lined up, pen angled exactly ninety degrees… it's like living next to a robot." "Correction," Selene said with a smirk, "a hot robot." Iris raised her hand as if in a formal debate. "I second that." Mara groaned, whispering harshly, "Can you not? He's right here." But Gael didn't even glance up. He turned a page in his notebook, eyes scanning the margins as if the girls' voices were nothing but background static. Vivienne leaned across her desk, grinning. "Honestly, Mara, I think he likes it when we tease him. It's like… his version of entertainment." Mara blinked. "What? No. He doesn't even—" But before she could finish, Gael spoke without lifting his gaze:
"Incorrect."
The group froze. Even Mara's mouth fell open. "Wait—" Naomi leaned forward, eyes wide. "You mean you do listen?" Gael finally looked up, his expression unreadable, voice calm. "You're loud." That set off a chain reaction of laughter. Calla nearly fell out of her chair. "Oh my god, he roasts now! Mara, what did you do to him?" Mara slapped a hand over her face, hiding her grin. "Don't encourage him." Selene smirked. "Too late. He's evolving. By next week, he'll be cracking dad jokes." "Or," Vivienne whispered dramatically, "confessing his undying love to Mara in the middle of class." Mara smacked her arm with a notebook. "Shut up!" Even Gael's lips curved—just barely—into the faintest flicker of a smile before returning to neutral. The girls exploded again, whispering furiously, pointing like they'd just spotted a shooting star. "Did you see that?" Iris gasped. "He smiled. He smiled! Document it, someone write it down—this is history!" The teacher walked in just as the girls were still half-laughing, half-gasping, trying to keep it together. Gael simply looked down at his notes again, as if nothing had happened, leaving Mara to fight off the warmth spreading across her chest.
The bell rang, sharp and freeing, followed by the familiar scrape of chairs and the shuffle of feet. Students spilled into the hallway in waves, voices rising in chatter and laughter. Mara slung her bag over her shoulder, matching her stride with Gael's calm, steady pace. As always, the five girls clustered around them, forming their own orbit. Selene stretched her arms above her head, groaning. "If I have to hear one more lecture about photosynthesis, I'm gonna photosynthesize myself out of existence." "Don't worry," Calla quipped, nudging her, "you're pale enough. A little sunlight might actually do you some good." "Rude!" Selene shoved her lightly, nearly bumping into Iris, who was too busy laughing at the back-and-forth. Vivienne eyed Gael walking beside Mara, his usual calm presence somehow magnified after that tiny smile in class. She leaned toward Mara with a smirk. "You know, if he ever actually cracked a real joke, the universe might implode." Naomi chuckled but stayed quieter than usual, her eyes flicking to Gael now and then like she was cataloguing something.
Mara caught it. "What?" she asked, arching a brow. Naomi shook her head quickly. "Nothing. Just… observing." Selene raised a brow. "Observing what? His perfect hair? His perfectly lined notebooks? Or the fact that Mara's basically attached at the hip to him now?" Mara rolled her eyes, but the heat in her cheeks betrayed her. "You all seriously need new hobbies." "Correction," Iris said dramatically, mimicking Gael's earlier voice. "We're loud." The group burst out laughing again, nearly doubling over as they moved through the halls. Even Mara cracked up despite herself, glancing at Gael to see if he reacted. But he was walking as though nothing existed except the steady rhythm of his footsteps — calm, contained, untouchable. Yet Naomi's gaze lingered on him a little longer, her lips pressing together in thought.
They pushed through the doors, warm air hitting them as the school grounds spread out before them. Students spilled in all directions — toward buses, bikes, and sidewalks leading home. The six girls clustered close, still teasing Mara about her "robot boyfriend," while Gael walked just ahead, steady as ever. Naomi slowed just a little, letting the group drift forward, her eyes on Gael's back before flicking toward Mara and then away. Something had settled in her chest all day — the quiet pull of curiosity, and maybe something more.
The warm afternoon sun painted the pavement gold, and the group's chatter filled the air as they walked down the street together. Mara stuck close to Gael, brushing his arm now and then like it was habit, while the others orbited with their usual mix of teasing and banter. "Seriously though," Calla said, shielding her eyes dramatically, "I'm convinced Gael was dropped here by aliens. No human is that composed." Selene chimed in with a laugh. "Right? He probably recharges in the library instead of eating like the rest of us." "Explains why he never laughs," Iris added. "His humor circuits are still in beta testing." Mara shook her head, smirking. "You're all ridiculous. He's fine the way he is." "Fine?" Vivienne snorted. "That's not the word you wanna use, Mara." She leaned in with a sly grin. "Try dangerously hot but emotionally unavailable." The group burst out laughing, the noise echoing down the block. Even Mara laughed, though her cheeks warmed again at the way Gael walked beside her, completely unfazed by their antics, like an island of calm in a storm of voices.
Naomi, quieter, walked just behind, her eyes flicking between Gael and Mara. Every little thing — the way he adjusted his bag, the slight tilt of his head when Mara teased him, even his silence — tugged at her thoughts. She chewed the inside of her cheek, hiding her smile as the others bantered. A few blocks later, the group began to split. Selene was the first to peel off, waving with a lazy grin. "See you guys tomorrow. Try not to combust over Gael before then." "Can't promise anything," Calla shot back, laughing as she dragged Iris with her down the next street. Vivienne yawned, stretching her arms above her head. "I'm out too. Later, lovebirds. And Naomi." She winked and disappeared with a wave. That left Mara, Naomi, and Gael still walking together. The quiet between them stretched just a little longer than usual, punctuated only by the shuffle of shoes and the soft hum of the street. When Mara finally reached her corner, she slowed, looking back at them. "Guess this is me. Don't cause trouble, you two." She gave Naomi a small smile before brushing Gael's sleeve lightly, almost like a secret signal, then heading off. Now it was just Gael and Naomi. The air between them felt heavier without the noise of the group. Naomi clutched her bag a little tighter, her mind racing with everything she wanted to ask, to know, to test. She glanced sideways at him — the set of his jaw, the calm way he looked ahead, the unshakable presence that made her pulse quicken despite herself. The silence pressed in for only a few steps before Naomi's nerves snapped.
"Do you… wanna come over?" she blurted, her voice louder than she meant. She winced instantly, clutching her bag tighter. "I mean—uh—not like that, I just… I kinda need help with homework. And you're, like, really good at this stuff. Obviously. Because you're you. So…" Her words tumbled out too fast, clumsy and rushed. Gael turned his head, ocean-blue eyes steady on her, unreadable as ever. "Homework?" he asked simply, his tone even, calm — so calm it made her cheeks burn hotter. Naomi nodded quickly, staring at the pavement as if it would swallow her. "Yes. Homework. Just homework. Nothing else. Unless—uh—unless you want to talk, too. That's fine. Totally fine." The corners of Gael's lips shifted — not quite a smile, but something close. "Alright." Naomi blinked, her heart skipping. "Wait… really?" "Yes," he said, like it was the most ordinary decision in the world. "Homework." Her stomach flipped. She managed a shaky laugh, brushing her hair back nervously. "Okay. Good. Great. Uh—my place is just a few blocks from here." They kept walking, but the air felt different now — thick, charged, Naomi's pulse racing at the thought of him stepping into her home, into her space.
The sidewalk stretched quiet around them, evening light spilling gold across the neighborhood. Naomi hugged her books tighter to her chest, sneaking glances at Gael while her mind screamed at her to say something, anything, before the silence swallowed her whole. "So…" Her voice cracked a little, and she cleared her throat. "You don't really… hang out with people much, do you?" Gael glanced sideways, calm as ever. "Not usually." Naomi bit her lip, half-regretting the question already. "Right. I mean, you're not… like, mean or anything. You're just… different." He didn't answer right away, and the weight of his silence made her chest tight. Then, finally: "Different, yes." Her nerves made her laugh softly. "That's not a bad thing, though. Actually… it's kinda cool. You always seem like—you know, nothing can shake you. Like if something bad happened, you'd just… handle it." Gael tilted his head slightly, as though turning her words over. "I would." Naomi blinked, caught off guard by his certainty. "You sound so sure. Most guys would just… freeze." "I've been taught not to freeze." His voice was quiet, matter-of-fact.
Her steps faltered. "Wait—taught? Like… fighting?" Gael's gaze stayed straight ahead, steady, unreadable. "Yes." Naomi stopped for half a second before hurrying to match his pace again. "You're kidding."
"I'm not." She gawked at him, her mind racing, trying to imagine it. "You? The quiet, perfect-notes, library-during-lunch guy… can fight?" Gael nodded once, as if he'd just admitted he could play chess or tie his shoes. "Yes." Naomi laughed nervously, though something about the way he said it made her stomach twist. "Okay, now I have… so many questions. Like, are we talking… martial arts? Or, like… street fighting? Because you don't exactly look like you—" She trailed off, realizing just how built he actually was under his uniform shirt. "…okay, maybe you do look like it." Gael didn't confirm or deny, just let the silence sit between them again. But Naomi's pulse wouldn't calm. For the first time, she wondered what kind of storm could be hiding under all that calm. The front gate squeaked when Naomi pushed it open, leading Gael into a tidy yard framed with potted plants her mom loved. The house itself was modest, the kind that smelled of books and warm food the second you stepped inside.
"Come in," Naomi said quickly, her voice softer than usual, as if bringing Gael into her space required a different tone. She dropped her bag on the couch and motioned toward the dining table already set with her notebooks. "Sorry, it's kind of messy." Gael glanced around, taking in the place without judgment. "It's not messy." She smiled faintly, relieved. "Okay, good. I didn't want you to think I live in chaos or something." They sat across from each other, the table between them filling with pens, open textbooks, and the awkward closeness of their knees almost brushing under the wood. Naomi tried to focus on equations, but every so often her eyes wandered to Gael's hands, steady as they wrote, his posture relaxed but precise. "You're… really good at this," she admitted when he explained a problem she'd been stuck on for days. Gael looked up, his tone even. "It's simple if you break it apart." "Simple for you," Naomi muttered, scribbling the solution. Then, half to herself: "You're good at everything, huh?" His brows drew together slightly. "Not everything." Naomi's pencil paused. She wanted to ask what he meant, but the words caught in her throat. Instead, she forced a laugh. "Well, academics and fighting? That's… more than enough already."
Gael didn't react, but the faintest twitch at the corner of his mouth told her he'd heard. They worked in silence for a while longer, pencils scratching, pages turning, until Naomi leaned back with a sigh. "Okay, I think my brain is fried. No more numbers." Gael set his pen down neatly. "Then we stop." She studied him across the table, her nerves buzzing. His calm was infuriating, intoxicating—it made her want to do something reckless just to see if he'd break that composure. Her thoughts slipped back to what he'd said earlier: I've been taught not to freeze. Fighting. The way he'd said it so casually, as if it were just a fact of him, like breathing. Naomi's gaze flickered to his shoulders, his arms, the faint stretch of his uniform across muscle she hadn't let herself notice until now. Heat crawled up her neck. She swallowed hard, turning a page in her notebook even though the homework was done. If he really fights… then under all this, what does he look like? The thought struck her sharp and bright, planting itself like a secret. She couldn't help it—she wanted to know. She wanted to see. And the curiosity was starting to feel like something else entirely, something heavier that made her chest tighten and her pulse quicken. Her lips pressed together as she forced herself to keep her cool, but inside, a quiet plan was forming. She wasn't going to let tonight end without finding out more.
Naomi tapped her pencil against the notebook, pretending to think while sneaking another glance at Gael. His uniform sleeves were rolled just enough to show his wrists, veins faintly visible, and she couldn't stop her mind from filling in the rest. "So…" she started, drawing out the word to sound casual. "When you said you fight… what did you mean, exactly? Like… karate? Boxing?" Gael leaned back in the chair slightly, his gaze steady on her. "Self-defense. Some street fighting." Her eyes widened. "Street fighting? Like… the dangerous kind?" He didn't flinch. "If it's necessary." Naomi blinked, then laughed a little too quickly, trying to play off the way her heart had just skipped. "That's… kind of scary. But also…" She trailed, then tilted her head at him. "Wait. So, you're saying under all this"—she motioned vaguely at his shirt—"you're, like, hiding some secret fighter's body?" Gael's brow arched slightly, though his expression didn't waver. "That's what you think?" Her pulse raced. Oh no, he's calling my bluff."I mean," she said quickly, leaning on her elbow with a mock-serious look, "if you are secretly ripped, you can't just expect me to take your word for it." It was meant to sound like a joke, light and teasing—but even Naomi heard the edge of truth in her own voice. She was testing him, pushing the boundary just enough to see if he'd give her something back. Gael didn't answer right away. He just looked at her, gaze unreadable, and the silence stretched until Naomi felt heat prickle at the back of her neck. She picked up her pencil again just to keep her hands busy. But then he said, low and even, "You really want to see?" The words hit her harder than she expected, her breath catching. She hadn't thought he'd flip it back on her like that. Naomi swallowed, forcing a small laugh to mask how flustered she suddenly felt. "Well… maybe. For educational purposes, obviously." Her joke sounded flimsy, but the spark in her chest had already caught fire. She wanted him to take her seriously—no, she wanted him to show her.
Naomi tried to laugh it off, scribbling nonsense in the margins of her notebook, but her heart wouldn't slow down. She wasn't supposed to care this much about whether Gael was serious. She wasn't supposed to imagine what he might look like underneath the uniform. Then Gael shifted in his chair. Without a word, he loosened the top button of his shirt, then tugged the fabric over his shoulder just enough to reveal the sculpted line of his collarbone, the curve of hard muscle beneath. Naomi froze. Her pencil slipped from her fingers, rolling across the desk, but she didn't even notice. Her eyes were locked on the shape of him—lean but powerful, every movement hinting at strength held in quiet control. "You… weren't kidding," she breathed. Gael let the shirt fall back into place as though it meant nothing. But the ghost of a challenge lingered in his eyes, like he was silently asking how much more she really wanted to see. Naomi swallowed hard. "That was… unfair. You can't just—just show that and expect me to concentrate." She meant it to sound playful, but her voice trembled. Before she could think better of it, her hand reached out on its own, fingertips brushing lightly against his arm where the sleeve was rolled.
Warm. Solid. Real. The instant she touched him, it was like a current ran through her. She tried to pull back, but her body wouldn't listen. Instead, her fingers pressed a little firmer, tracing the definition hidden under the fabric. Gael didn't move. Didn't stop her. His gaze stayed steady, unreadable, and that stillness only made the moment heavier. Naomi's breath caught. The silence between them stretched, thick with something she couldn't name but couldn't resist. She felt herself leaning in before she even realized it—drawn to him like a magnet, the pull too strong to fight. "Naomi," Gael said quietly, almost like a warning. But she broke first. Her lips pressed against his, sudden and unpracticed, but full of all the tension she'd been holding back. It wasn't graceful—it was desperate, messy, a collision she couldn't stop even if she tried. And Gael didn't pull away.