A Place to BleeDays passed, and what started as a casual friendship between Nate and Seth quietly bloomed into something deeper—something neither of them could put into words.
They spent more time together now. After school, Seth would drag Nate to the cafeteria to "save him from the nerd corner," or they'd hang out by the basketball court where Seth cheered on games like he was the commentator of a sports show. Nate, reserved as he was, found comfort in Seth's loudness. It filled the silences inside him.
Eventually, Seth invited Nate to his home.
It was an old but cozy two-story house with slightly creaky stairs and walls covered in faded rock band posters. Seth's mom greeted Nate warmly the first time—surprised her son had finally brought someone over. She made extra food from then on. Seth's room was cluttered with old comic books, notebooks filled with lyrics, and random trinkets that probably held stories Nate was too shy to ask about.
They'd talk for hours, about school, about random thoughts, about nothing. Sometimes they'd laugh until their stomachs hurt. Other times, they'd sit in a comfortable silence, with music playing softly in the background, feeling like time wasn't rushing anywhere.
And in those moments, Nate felt...home.
But comfort rarely lasts in a world that remembers your shadows.
---
It was late one afternoon. The sky hung low with clouds, the streets damp from a recent drizzle. Seth had walked Nate partway to the terminal like always before waving goodbye and heading to his favorite convenience store to grab something sweet.
That's when he felt it.
The presence.
A shadow flitted across the glass door. Then another.
Seth turned slowly, instinct sharp. A group of older boys stood at the alley's entrance. Five. No—six. All wearing black jackets with a familiar crest burned onto the sleeves.
He cursed under his breath. They found me.
Before he could run, the biggest one stepped forward—their leader.
"Well, well. If it isn't the little prince of Crimson Howl," the guy sneered. "Long time no see, Seth."
Seth stood his ground. "What do you want, Cain?"
Cain grinned, then without warning, landed a punch across Seth's jaw.
The world blurred sideways. Seth hit the ground with a thud, cheek burning. He spat blood, heart racing.
Then the others moved in. Kicks. Boots. Laughter. Pain. Over and over.
"Still think you're on top?" Cain hissed, slamming his foot into Seth's ribs. "Your gang's been quiet. Weak. You're nothing without your crown."
So this is how it ends, Seth thought, curling into himself, gasping for air.
But then—
"HEY!"
The voice cut through the noise like a blade.
Cain turned—and Nate stood there.
Eyes wide, fists clenched, chest heaving.
"I said stop," Nate growled, louder this time.
Cain laughed. "Who's this? Your boyfriend?"
Seth, barely able to lift his head, whispered, "Go away… Nate… Don't…"
But Nate didn't.
He rushed forward, grabbed a broken plank from the alley wall, and swung hard. The wood cracked across one of the gang member's backs, sending him down. The others lunged, but Nate's fury was wild. Controlled. Calculated.
He wasn't just angry—he was protecting.
And that made him dangerous.
After a few solid hits and shouts from bystanders nearby, the gang scattered, cursing and limping away.
Nate dropped the plank and ran to Seth, who was curled on the concrete, blood dripping from his lip, his shirt torn and stained.
"Jesus, Seth. You're bleeding—bad."
Seth winced. "I told you… not to come…"
Nate ignored him. "We're going to the hospital."
"No." Seth grabbed his wrist, breath shaky. "No hospital."
"Seth—"
"I said no."
There was panic in his voice. Real panic.
Nate froze. "Why?"
Seth didn't answer immediately. He sat up slowly, leaning against the wall, teeth clenched. Then, he spoke.
"I wasn't always like this. The funny guy. The loud one." He looked down. "Before I transferred here, I was someone else."
Nate stayed quiet.
"I used to lead a gang. Not a school group. A real one. We were called Crimson Howl." He swallowed. "And I didn't join it for fun. I did it to protect my neighborhood… and the people I cared about."
Nate's breath caught. This was a version of Seth he never knew. A part of him raw and reckless and scarred.
"That gang that attacked me? They're from Black Scar. They've always hated me. We were rivals. Enemies. The moment they saw me again, they knew. They never forget a face."
Nate's voice softened. "So why tell me this?"
Seth looked at him.
"I don't know," he admitted. "Maybe because I trust you. And I don't even understand why I do. I just… do."
Something cracked in Nate's chest. Not from pain. From guilt. From love. From longing.
He wanted to tell Seth the truth. That he'd come back from abroad for him. That he wasn't just some new classmate. That he was Vyre.
But all he said was, "Then I'll stay."
Seth blinked. "Huh?"
"I'll stay. With you," Nate said firmly. "You don't have to fight alone anymore."
For a long time, they just looked at each other.
Then Seth let out a breathy laugh. "You're insane, you know that?"
"Probably," Nate said. "But I'm not going anywhere."
Seth leaned his head back against the wall, blood trickling down his lip, a bruise blooming near his eye—but his smile was genuine. Tired, but real.
"You feel like
a safe place," he murmured.
And for the first time in sixteen years, Nate let himself believe that maybe… maybe he still was.