The school bell rang, echoing down the wide hallways. Exams were finally over. Students poured out of the classrooms like a wave, laughter filling the air, relieved groans echoing between lockers. Nate stood by the corridor wall, backpack slung over one shoulder, watching the crowd with quiet eyes. His fingers fiddled with the strap as he waited for someone—someone who made his chest tighten for reasons he still couldn't understand.
"Seth," he muttered under his breath.
And just like that, as if summoned by name, Seth appeared—messy hair, carefree grin, and that annoying, perfect laugh that made Nate forget whatever logical thought he had in his head.
"Hey!" Seth greeted, nudging Nate's side. "Exams are over, dude. Wanna grab something at the cafeteria?"
"Yeah," Nate said, trying to sound casual. "I was just about to ask you."
They walked side by side down the hallway, their steps syncing without trying. Seth talked about how he almost blanked on the math exam, and Nate chuckled, shaking his head at the way Seth could talk about failure and still somehow make it charming.
When they entered the cafeteria, the usual chaos of trays clanking and students shouting filled the air. Nate was about to grab a table near the window when a sharp voice called out—
"Seth!"
They turned, and there she was—Tara. Long hair bouncing, perfect smile gleaming like it belonged in a teen drama. She walked up confidently, her hand already reaching for Seth's arm. Without asking, she tugged him toward her.
"Come with me for a sec, yeah?" she said, her voice sweet but territorial. Then she glanced at Nate, adding, "If that's okay?"
Nate's expression darkened, but he quickly looked away, his jaw tightening.
"You don't have to ask me," he replied coldly, eyes fixed on the floor. "Do whatever you want."
Seth hesitated. "Nate, wait—"
But Nate was already walking away, weaving through tables like he was chasing something invisible. Or maybe running from something he didn't want to admit.
That night, Seth texted. No reply. He called. No answer. For a week, Nate avoided him—switching seats, turning corners, even skipping lunch.
Then came Friday. After class, Seth found him leaning against the railing outside the school building, earbuds in, pretending not to see him.
Seth smirked.
"Hey, Nate," he said, stepping close.
Nate glanced up. "Hey."
Without warning, Seth poked his nose.
"What the—" Nate swatted his hand away, eyes narrowing.
"You're really cute when you're jealous," Seth said with a laugh.
Nate's face turned red. "I wasn't jealous."
Seth leaned in a little, mischief dancing in his eyes. "What if I started dating Tara? What would you do?"
Nate stared at him, then rolled his eyes and turned to leave. "Nothing."
But his steps were stiff. And Seth saw it—that tiny hesitation in Nate's walk, the crack in his voice.
Seth grinned, not because he was mocking Nate, but because something in him liked the idea that Nate cared. Maybe more than he should.
---
That night, around 8 PM, Seth walked home alone, his hoodie pulled up against the night breeze. The streetlights flickered as he passed a narrow alley near the main road.
Then—
Footsteps.
He turned.
Five guys stood there, one of them cracking his knuckles.
"Well, well, if it isn't the undefeated pretty boy," the leader sneered, grabbing the collar of Seth's shirt. "Heard you've never lost a fight."
Seth's eyes darkened. "You heard right."
"Then I'd like to see for myself."
Without warning, the guy swung a punch. Seth ducked easily, twisting out of his grip. The fight began—fists flying, kicks striking. The gang's leader was bigger, but Seth was faster. Smarter. One by one, the thugs hit the pavement. Seth's lip was bleeding, but his eyes burned with the fire of someone who'd fought too many battles to be afraid.
The leader groaned, stumbling to his feet, rage in his eyes. "This isn't over. You'll pay for this."
Then he looked past Seth.
Straight at Nate.
And smirked.
"See you around, pretty boy," he muttered before walking off with his crew.
Seth wiped blood from his mouth and turned. "What are you doing here?"
Nate stepped forward. "I was heading to your place. Then I saw... that."
"I'm fine," Seth muttered, trying to walk past him.
"Like hell you are," Nate snapped. "You're bleeding."
"It's nothing."
Nate reached out, grabbing Seth's wrist. "Hospital. Now."
"I'm not going to the hospital," Seth said firmly, pulling away. "You don't get it. They're from Black Fangs. They're my gang's biggest enemy. If I show weakness now, they'll spread it like wildfire. I'm already risking a lot just walking around freely."
Nate stared at him, stunned. "You're... the leader of the Red Scars?"
Seth looked down. "Yeah. Guess I trust you too much to keep it hidden."
For a moment, Nate didn't speak.
Then softly, he said, "Why me?"
"I don't know," Seth said with a tired smile. "You just... feel like home."
Nate didn't know what to say. So he didn't. Instead, he walked beside Seth the rest of the way, making sure he didn't fall.
When they got to Seth's house, his mom opened the door, gasping at the blood.
"Oh my god, Seth! What happened?"
Before Seth could answer, Nate grinned. "Don't worry, ma'am. Just your son being stubborn again. Maybe ground him? Or take his phone?"
Seth shot him a glare. Nate poked his nose.
"Night, troublemaker."
And then he was gone.
---
Later that night, Seth lay in bed, staring at the ceiling. He could still feel Nate's fingers brushing against his. His warmth. His concern.
And he realized...
He liked it.
Maybe more than he should.