Brian woke up tired, he'd been lying in bed for hours staring at the ceiling. His father's voice still echoed in his head. The shove. The words. The silence after. He tugged his sweater on and checked himself in the mirror. No bruises. Nothing anyone could see. Good. Invisible.
By the time he got to school, the halls were already buzzing, full of noise. The smell of cheap cologne, locker doors slamming, sneakers squeaking on the floor. Too much. Always too much.
Brian kept his head down and slipped through the side entrance, the one that made it easier to stay unseen. He walked fast, like always, weaving through gaps before anyone could stop him. His hands tightened on his backpack straps, his stomach twisted in knots. He reached the classroom early, as usual, and slid into his desk. Safe. At least for a few minutes. He opened his notebook and pretended to review old notes, eyes skimming words that didn't stick.
The scrape of a chair behind him made his chest tighten. Alex. Brian didn't turn around. He stared at the page like his life depended on it.A few seconds passed. Then—
"Brian," Alex said quietly.
Brian gripped his pencil tighter. "Don't," he muttered.
"I need to talk to you."
Brian's throat tightened. He forced his voice steady, even though it wanted to crack. "We already did this. There's nothing to say."
"Yeah, there is," Alex insisted, voice low but firm. "You didn't let me explain."
Brian's jaw clenched. He kept his eyes on the same word in his notebook, tracing it with his gaze. "You don't owe me anything, Alex. You don't have to… do this."
Silence. For a moment, Brian thought maybe Alex had given up. But then he leaned forward, voice softer this time. "I'm not pretending."
Brian's pulse hammered loud. He wanted to turn around, to see his face, to understand. But that would mean risking everything. So he didn't. He just sat there, hands trembling against the desk, staring at the paper.
The teacher started class, sparing him from answering. Brian buried himself in his notes, trying not to feel the weight of Alex's presence just behind him.
The rest of the morning blurred past. Brian kept moving, one class to the next, always fast, always avoiding. He thought maybe Alex would stop trying. But he didn't.
When Brian left English, Alex was waiting outside the door.
"Brian, hold up."
Brian kept walking.
"Hey—" Alex caught up easily, falling into step beside him.
"Go away," Brian muttered under his breath, not looking at him.
"No," Alex said, calm but steady. "I'm not gonna just… leave it like this."
Brian sped up, weaving through the crowd, but Alex matched his pace. They walked side by side down the hall, and it made Brian's skin crawl with nerves. He could feel the eyes on them, the whispers starting. He hated it.
"You don't get it," Brian said sharply, still not looking at him. "People see us talking, they'll—" His words caught, but Alex was already watching him.
"They'll what?" Alex asked. Not aggressive, just curious.
Brian shook his head, forcing a laugh that sounded bitter even to his own ears. "Forget it. You don't live in my world. You don't know what it's like."
Alex stopped walking for half a second, just enough to make Brian notice. When he caught up again, his expression was serious, the usual easy grin gone. "Then explain it to me."
Brian's chest ached. He wanted to scream, to tell him everything, to admit how much it hurt to be invisible and seen all at once. But the words stuck, like always.
Instead, he shook his head. "You don't want to know."
The bell rang, and Brian ducked into his next class without looking back. His hands shook as he opened his notebook, but his mind was somewhere else entirely.
Alex was following him. And Brian didn't know if that terrified him… or if it was the only thing keeping him going.
But after that Monday, Alex stopped.
He was still there, of course — sliding into the desk behind Brian like always, scribbling notes, chatting with people in the hallway. But he didn't try again. He didn't call out his name. He didn't walk beside him between classes.
The silence returned.
It should have been a relief. Brian told himself it was. No more whispers, no more stares when Alex drew attention to him. He had his invisibility back.
Except… he hated it. He kept waiting for Alex to try again, but he never did.
By Friday, Brian had convinced himself of one thing: whatever Alex had been about to say, it didn't matter anymore.
And yet, the not knowing haunted him worse than anything.