Sunday afternoon moved slower than it should've.
Theo walked with his hands in his pockets, hoodie unzipped, eyes drifting between cracked sidewalks and the sky above the city. Clouds rolled lazily, thick and gray, like they hadn't decided whether to rain or just loom for fun.
Isabella walked beside him, a half step behind, arms folded—not cold, just guarded.
"So," she said, breaking the silence. "This is how you find inspiration? Walking?"
Theo shrugged. "You'd be surprised how much the world talks when you shut up and listen."
She glanced at him. "You always talk."
"Exactly. That's why I'm trying something new."
That earned a small, unwilling smile from her.
They passed street vendors, honking cars, people brushing past without a second glance. Theo stopped suddenly, pulled out his notebook, and sketched fast—loose lines, messy, alive.
"What's that?" Isabella asked.
"Noise," he said. "Everyone pretending they're important."
She leaned closer, watching his pencil move. "You draw like you're angry."
Theo didn't look up. "I draw like I'm alive."
That shut her up.
They walked again. A comfortable stretch of silence settled between them, broken only by footsteps and distant sirens.
"So," Isabella said eventually, trying to sound casual, "earlier… when you said you'd never date me."
Theo snorted. "Still true."
She stopped walking.
He took three steps before realizing she wasn't beside him anymore. He turned.
Isabella stared at him, brows pulled together. "Do you enjoy saying things like that, or is it a hobby?"
Theo tilted his head. "I enjoy honesty."
"And what's honest about that?"
He thought for a second. "I don't mix distractions with goals."
She scoffed. "Wow. So I'm a distraction now?"
"No," he said calmly. "You're complicated. Distractions are easy."
That confused her more than it hurt.
She shook her head and started walking again. "You're weird."
"Been called worse."
They didn't say much after that—but somehow, the silence felt heavier.
---
Monday hit like a slap.
Theo pulled his hoodie up as he entered campus, instantly sensing it. The air buzzed differently. Laughter lingered too long. Eyes followed him.
Phones were out.
Whispers trailed him like shadows.
"Is that him?"
"Yeah, the broke one."
"Crashout, right?"
Theo smirked to himself.
Wow. Didn't know I was famous. Should've charged autographs.
He didn't need to check his phone. He already knew.
Across the courtyard, Ash leaned against a pillar, watching. His friends snickered, replaying the image over and over.
"You sure he saw it?" one asked.
Ash's smile was thin. "He will."
---
Isabella saw it in the tuck shop.
Her phone buzzed. A notification from the student site.
She clicked.
There it was.
Theo. Sitting at McDonald's. Hoodie off. Devouring fries like he hadn't eaten in days.
The caption read:
"Broke boy finally eats. Someone call charity."
Her friends erupted.
"Oh my God, look at him."
"That's actually disgusting."
"Guess poverty makes you feral."
Isabella laughed automatically—light, fake.
Then she looked up.
Theo sat alone at a corner table, hoodie back on, sketchbook open. Calm. Unbothered. Like none of it mattered.
Her laughter died in her throat.
Why does this bother me?
He didn't even do anything.
---
Someone bumped Theo's shoulder on purpose.
"Watch it, crashout."
Theo didn't stop walking.
Funny how people love monsters, he thought, as long as they don't become one.
In class, he sat near the back, pulled out his notebook, and wrote a title across the page:
RUMORS
He drew mouths—too many of them. No faces. Just mouths, whispering, laughing, biting.
Strings stretched from their lips, tangled together.
At the center stood a single figure. Smiling.
The teacher walked in. "Reminder—the competition is this week. Five pieces. Winner gets five hundred dollars and their work displayed in the trophy room."
Theo's pencil paused.
He thought to himself
"Five hundred."
I need that.
"Also," the teacher added, "your group assessment is ongoing. I expect collaboration."
Her eyes landed on Theo and Isabella. "You two should be working together more."
A murmur spread across the room.
Isabella hesitated… then stood and moved closer.
Theo didn't look at her.
"About the photo," she whispered. "I didn't—"
"You don't owe me an apology for something you didn't post," he said quietly.
She blinked. "Doesn't it bother you?"
He shrugged. "It does. I just don't give them the satisfaction."
That hit harder than she expected.
---
After school, the halls were quieter.
Theo opened his locker.
A printed photo stared back at him, taped inside.
Below it, written in thick black marker:
GO BACK WHERE YOU BELONG.
He stared at it for a long moment.
No anger.
No shaking hands.
He peeled it off carefully, folded it once… twice… and slid it into his sketchbook.
"Good," he muttered. "Now I know what to draw next."
And for the first time, the rumors didn't sound so loud.
---