The storm Marcus had unleashed didn't end when the teachers pulled him away. It lingered in the hallways, clinging to the walls like smoke after a fire.
Sophie walked through it with her notebook pressed tight against her chest, her stomach twisted with fear and guilt. She couldn't erase the sound of his fists colliding with Ethan's face, the sight of his eyes—wild, blazing, almost unrecognizable.
And yet, she couldn't erase the moment he'd stopped.
Not because of the teachers. Not because of the crowd.
Because of her.
When her hand had touched his arm, when her voice had broken through his fury, he had looked at her as if she were the only thing tethering him to the world.
It should have terrified her. But it only made her ache.
The Fallout
By afternoon, the whispers were deafening. Ethan strutted through the halls with a swollen lip and a black eye, milking the attention.
"Hale's finally lost it," students murmured. "He'll be gone by tomorrow."
"Good riddance," someone else hissed.
Sophie's chest tightened. Gone. The word echoed like a death knell.
After school, she found herself wandering to the edge of the parking lot, where Marcus usually waited. But today the spot was empty.
Her heart sank.
That night, she sat by her window, staring into the dark, notebook open but blank. The rain pattered softly against the glass, a cruel reminder of the night they'd shared in the warehouse. She wanted him to appear like before, to climb through the shadows and let her breathe again.
But the window stayed empty.
The Visit
The next day, Sophie couldn't take the silence. She gathered her courage and walked across town to the broken warehouse. The streets were colder now, the wind sharp, the shadows deeper.
Inside, the air smelled of rust and damp. For a moment, she thought it was empty—until she saw him.
Marcus sat slouched against the wall, hood pulled low, knuckles bruised and raw. A half-empty bottle sat beside him, his eyes glazed but still burning when they found hers.
"You shouldn't be here," he muttered.
Sophie's throat tightened. "Then why did you leave the door unlocked?"
His smirk was weak, almost broken. "Maybe I wanted to see if you'd come."
She crossed the room, kneeling beside him. "Are you suspended?"
"Three weeks. Maybe longer." His voice was flat. "They want to expel me."
Sophie's chest clenched. "Marcus—"
"Don't." His gaze hardened, but his hands trembled. "Don't tell me it'll be okay. It won't. It never is."
Silence stretched. Sophie studied his knuckles, the cuts across his skin. She reached for his hand gently, wrapping her sleeve around his wounds.
He flinched but didn't pull away.
"Why do you do that?" he whispered.
"What?"
"Touch me like I'm worth saving."
Her eyes burned. "Because you are."
His laugh was sharp and bitter. "You don't know me."
"I know enough."
He looked at her then, really looked, and for the first time she saw the cracks in his fire. The boy beneath the flames, the boy who wanted to believe her but couldn't.
"I don't deserve you," he whispered.
"Maybe not," she said softly. "But I'm here anyway."
And when his walls finally collapsed, when he pulled her into his arms and buried his face against her hair, Sophie held him like she could keep the fire from consuming him.
The Secret
For the next week, Marcus disappeared from school. Sophie carried the weight of his absence like chains.
But every night, she returned to the warehouse. And every night, he was there—broken, angry, but alive. They sat together in the ruins, sharing words they couldn't speak anywhere else.
Sometimes they talked. Sometimes they didn't. Sometimes he kissed her until the world disappeared, and sometimes he just held her in silence.
It was dangerous. Reckless.
But it was theirs.
One night, Sophie brought her notebook. She read him the poems she had never shown anyone—poems about loneliness, about shadows, about fire.
When she finished, Marcus was silent. Then he whispered, "You write like you've been burned before."
"Maybe I have," she said softly.
He reached out, brushing his fingers against the notebook. "You're not pathetic, Sophie. You're the only one who makes me believe there's something worth holding onto."
Her chest ached. "Then hold on."
And he did.
The Threat
But the world wasn't blind forever.
One evening, Sophie returned home to find a note slipped under her door. Her blood ran cold as she unfolded it.
Does Hale know how quickly I could ruin him?Does he know how easily secrets bleed?Meet me after school tomorrow—or everyone finds out.
No signature. But she knew.
Ethan.
Her hands shook. If Ethan exposed her poems—if he exposed her and Marcus—everything would end.
She stared at the words until they blurred, fear twisting like knives.
And then she made a choice.
The Confrontation
The next afternoon, Sophie met Ethan behind the gym. The air was sharp, the sky heavy with storm clouds. Ethan leaned against the wall, smirk wide, holding her notebook.
"You really are predictable," he drawled.
"Give it back."
"Or what?" He flipped the pages, eyes gleaming. "This stuff is gold. Hale's little poetess, writing love letters about her tormentor. Imagine the headlines."
Sophie's throat burned. "Please."
Ethan stepped closer, his voice low and cruel. "You don't get it, do you? Hale can't save you. He's circling the drain, and when he's gone, you'll have nothing. Unless…" His smirk widened. "Unless you pick better company."
Revulsion surged through her. "I'd rather drown."
Ethan's eyes narrowed, anger flashing. He grabbed her wrist, grip tight. "Careful, sweetheart. Fire burns. But ice shatters."
Sophie struggled, fear spiking—until a voice cut through the storm.
"Let her go."
Marcus.
He stepped from the shadows, fists clenched, eyes blazing.
Ethan's smirk faltered. "Well, well. Speak of the devil."
Marcus moved closer, every line of him coiled with fury. "Touch her again, and I'll end you."
Ethan laughed, but it was thin. "You're already finished, Hale. One more fight, and you're out for good. She's not worth it."
Marcus froze. His jaw tightened, his hands shaking. For a moment, Sophie saw the war in his eyes—the fire begging to consume, and the chain of her voice holding him back.
"Marcus," Sophie whispered, tears burning. "Don't."
His chest heaved. Slowly, painfully, he stepped back.
Ethan smirked, shoving the notebook into Sophie's chest. "Enjoy your fairytale while it lasts. It won't."
And then he walked away, leaving the storm behind.
Marcus turned to Sophie, his eyes breaking. "You should stay away from me."
Her tears fell. "You don't get to decide that."
And before he could argue, she threw her arms around him, holding him like he was already gone.
Ashes
That night, Sophie sat by her window, notebook on her lap, heart heavy with fire and fear.
She wrote until her hands ached:
Chains bite deeper when they are made of love.Fire burns brighter when it is forbidden.And hearts break faster when they know they cannot last.
She closed the notebook, pressing it to her chest, tears staining the cover.
Outside, the storm finally broke, lightning splitting the sky.
And Sophie knew: whatever lay ahead, she and Marcus were already standing in the fire.