The week that followed blurred into a slow, suffocating haze. Sophie walked through the halls of Windmere with her head low, notebook hidden in the depths of her bag, heart pounding at every whisper. The students were restless, hungry for more drama after Marcus's suspension, but none dared mention his name too loudly. It was as if the school itself had learned that speaking of fire only fed it. Ethan, however, wasn't finished. He moved through the halls like a vulture, his smirk sharper than ever. Every time Sophie caught sight of him, her stomach twisted, remembering the feel of his hand on her wrist, the cruel gleam in his eye when he promised destruction. He knew now. He knew about her and Marcus. And knowledge, in the wrong hands, was power sharper than knives.
Marcus hadn't come back yet. His absence stretched into Sophie like a wound. Nights at the warehouse had stopped since the confrontation with Ethan. For days, she waited by the window, heart clawing for the sound of his knock, the sight of his shadow climbing toward her. But the glass remained empty, the streets silent. She filled the emptiness with words, scribbling until her hands cramped, until the pages of her notebook blurred with tears. The poems grew darker, heavier, like stones dragged through her chest. She wrote of fire that consumed without mercy, of chains that cut deeper with every breath, of love that felt like drowning in smoke. And still, she wrote of Marcus. Always Marcus.
One evening, she couldn't take it anymore. She pulled on her jacket, slipped the notebook into her bag, and walked through the darkened streets until the broken warehouse loomed. Inside, the air smelled of damp and rust, silence thick as ash. For a moment she thought he wasn't there. Then she saw him. Marcus sat slumped against the far wall, hood low, cigarette glowing faintly between his fingers. His eyes found hers instantly, burning even through exhaustion. Sophie's chest clenched. "You've been gone," she whispered. He didn't answer. Just took a drag, exhaling smoke into the cold air. She stepped closer. "Why?"
Marcus's smirk was brittle. "Because I don't know if I'm the cure you think I am, or the disease that's going to kill you." His voice was raw, breaking around the edges. "And I don't know which terrifies me more."
Sophie's throat ached. "You don't get to disappear. Not from me."
He laughed, bitter and hollow. "You still don't get it. Everyone disappears eventually. Some faster than others."
She dropped to her knees in front of him, grabbing his wrist before he could pull away. "I don't care how broken you are. I don't care how much fire you think you've got inside you. You don't scare me, Marcus. Not anymore."
For a moment, he just stared at her. Then his cigarette slipped from his fingers, crushed beneath his boot. His other hand lifted, trembling, as if drawn against his will. He touched her cheek, his thumb brushing away a tear. "You should," he whispered.
"Then teach me," Sophie said. "Show me everything you think will make me run. And I'll prove to you I won't."
His eyes flared, wild and desperate. He leaned forward and kissed her, hard, rough, tasting of smoke and despair. Sophie clung back, her heart cracking open under the force of it, her body trembling with the weight of everything unspoken. When they broke apart, gasping, Marcus pressed his forehead to hers. "You don't know what you're asking."
"Then show me," she whispered again.
The silence between them throbbed like a heartbeat. Finally, he pulled back, his jaw clenched, his eyes like storms. "Fine. But when you drown, remember—you asked for it."
The days that followed became a dangerous rhythm. Marcus would find her after dark, leading her deeper into his world. Abandoned alleys, rooftops slick with rain, back rooms of shops long forgotten. He told her pieces of his past in fragments, stories jagged and raw. Nights spent hiding from fists. Days without food. Friends buried before they ever had a chance to grow old. He never told her everything, but what he gave was enough to paint the outlines of a life carved in violence. Sophie listened, her heart breaking with each revelation, but she never flinched. And sometimes, when his voice cracked, when his hands shook, she reached for him and he let her.
But the more time they stole, the more dangerous it became. The school buzzed with rumors. Ethan's smirk lingered like a shadow she couldn't shake. One afternoon, Sophie opened her locker to find another slip of paper waiting inside.
It's only a matter of time. Fire always burns itself out. When he goes down, he'll drag you with him.
Her hands trembled. She shoved the note deep into her bag, her chest aching. That night, she showed it to Marcus. His eyes burned as he read it, jaw tight, shoulders coiled with rage. "Ethan," he spat. "He won't stop until he ruins you."
"He already has," Sophie whispered.
Marcus grabbed her face, forcing her to look at him. "No. He hasn't. Because you're still here. With me."
Tears blurred her vision. "And if he exposes us?"
"Then let him." His voice was fire, trembling and fierce. "I'll burn everything down before I let him take you from me."
Her heart broke under the weight of his promise. "Marcus—"
But he silenced her with a kiss, desperate and trembling, like he was already fighting the world.
The next day, Marcus returned to school. His suspension had ended, though whispers followed him like smoke. Students parted in the halls when he walked by, eyes darting, mouths whispering. Sophie tried to keep her distance during the day, but she could feel his gaze on her, heavy and burning. At lunch, Ethan sat across the room, smirk wide, eyes flicking between her and Marcus. Sophie's stomach twisted. This was a war, and she was caught in the crossfire.
That evening, Marcus waited outside her window. She climbed down, heart racing, and followed him into the night. They ended up on the rooftop of the old music shop, the town sprawled out beneath them, the sky heavy with stars. Marcus lit a cigarette, the flame flickering in the wind. He looked at her, eyes softer than she'd ever seen. "Why do you stay?" he asked suddenly.
Sophie blinked. "What?"
"You know what I am. You've seen it. And still, you stay. Why?"
She swallowed hard. "Because you're the only person who makes me feel alive. Even when it hurts."
His cigarette trembled between his fingers. Slowly, he leaned closer, brushing his lips against hers, softer this time, almost fragile. "You're going to destroy me," he whispered.
"Then we'll destroy each other," Sophie whispered back.
The stars above burned brighter, the fire between them burning hotter. And Sophie knew, as she clung to him under the endless night, that they were already too far gone to ever turn back.