Rafe's POV:

I knew something was wrong the moment I saw Eli.

I always noticed Eli before anything else. Always. Even in a room full of noise, movement, chatter—my eyes automatically went to Eli. Eli would always look back at me with so much love that melted my heart. But today, he didn't meet nhi gaze. I noticed that he walked slower than usual maybe even limping on one side, hunches like his body aches. Panick grew in my heart. My eli is hurt. He was again wearing his big black hoodie that drowned him. 

I stood up quickly, my chair scraped the floor. “Eli?”

Eli flinched. The teacher scolded me so I sat back down. 

He didn’t say anything, just walked over , his eyes not quite reaching mine as if we were back to day one. No, no, no, he is hirt. Did he hit him again? Obviously he did. There was something raw in his expression—something closed off, which told me everything I needed to know.

“What happened? What did he do?” i spine too quickly as he reached. The teacher gave me a sharp glare to keep quiet.

Eli didn’t answer. Just shook his head and lowered himself carefully into the chair beside me like every movement hurt him. His lips were pale, his jaw stiff. It hurts me to see him likr this. Why? Why does he have to suffer?

“Eli,” I tried again, softer now. “Look at me.”

He hesitated, then finally me my eyes.

My breath caught. I had a better look at his face now.

There was a split on his lip. A faint bruise darkening his cheek, just under the eye. And behind the hoodie, I could see the way his shoulders curled in like he was still trying to shield himself.

Rage lit a fuse inside me. It was quiet but searing. I joined the pieces together and —

“He found out you were at my house,” I whispered, already knowing. Already putting the pieces together. “Didn’t he?”

Eli closed his eyes. His nod was barely a twitch. Oh god.

“Jesus Christ,” I swore under my breath. I wanted to hit something. Throw a desk. Smash something into a thousand pieces. I want to hold eli in my arms but even that would hurt him right now. Did he treat himself? I wanted to ask him so many questions.

But Eli looked like he was holding himself together with threadbare string, I wasn’t going to be the thing that made him unravel.

So instead, I said what came first in my mind, “Let’s leave. Let’s get out of here. We can bunk school today. I’ll walk you somewhere quiet. We’ll just—go.”

Eli shook his head immediately, too fast. “No. I can’t. If I don’t go to class… if I get caught…” He trailed off, and fear settled into the tight line of his shoulders.

His father, his fucking father. No don't get angry and scare him. I reached for his hand beneath the desk. Eli didn’t pull away.

“Okay,” I said gently. “Okay. Calm baby”

But it was hard to watch. In every class, in hallway Eli moved like every step hurt. His pen kept slipping from his fingers during notes, and I could see the way his eyes blinked longer and longer during the second class as if trying to keep him conscious. He was pale, sweaty.

By the time the period before lunch arrived, I had decided I was going to insist we leave after. Screw the fear. Screw the school. I just need him safe.

But then Eli swayed in his seat.

And collapsed forward onto the desk.

“Eli!”

I was out of his chair before the teacher could react. Eli was limp, his head lolling to one side, a small gasp leaving his lips. Other students whispered.

Panic knifed through my chest. No, don't get hurt, please please please. “Hey, hey… Eli, wake up.”

“Mr. Parker,” the teacher said, startled, rising to come over.

“He fainted,” I snapped, already easing an arm around Eli’s back. “I need to take him to the nurse.”

They didn’t argue. Maybe the agony and panick on my face told them not to.

I carried Eli all the way to the school nurse. Eli stirred a little, blinking but not fully waking. I kept whispering soft nothings to him as i  moved fast through the hall. “You’re okay. I’ve got you. I’m right here.”

The nurse looked up in alarm as I stumbled in.

“He fainted in class,” I said. “I think—he’s hurt. He won’t say much.” 

The nurse helped was kind enough to help me lay Eli on the small cot in the corner. As she checked vitals, she gently pushed back his sleeve—and stopped.

Her eyes narrowed. “These bruises… Rafe, do you know what happened?”

I froze.Should I tell her? A part of me screamed yes. Tell her. Get him help.

But Eli's words keep coming back to him. I don't I should tell her without his permission, he will be terrified and upset at me. 

I hook my head slowly. “He fell. At home. He didn’t want to talk about it.”

Her eyes narrowed. Not in disbelief, but in that way people look when they know the truth but won’t press unless you open the door. “That’s a lot of bruising for a fall, Rafe.”

I said nothing.

She sighed and handed me a bottle of antiseptic and a few sterile pads. “You can stay until he wakes up. I’ll give you two some privacy. Stay with him.”

I nodded and sat down beside the cot, brushing Eli’s hair gently back from his forehead.

He was so pale.

“You scared the hell out of me,” I whispered. My throat ached. “You’re always doing that. Looking like you’re fine when you’re bleeding on the inside.”

I pulled the chair closer and sat beside him, dipping the pad into the antiseptic. My hand trembled a little when I touched his skin. His body flinched, even unconscious.

“Sorry,” I whispered, like maybe it mattered.

His lashes fluttered. I paused, holding my breath.

But he didn’t wake.

So I kept going, slowly. Gently. Trying to dab around the worst parts, trying not to hurt him more than he already was. It was useless. He was already broken, and I hated that I couldn’t stop it. That I hadn’t stopped it.

“Why didn’t you call me?” I murmured. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

He had gone home alone the night before, and I’d known—God, I had known something might happen. But he asked me to trust him. And I had. And now he was here, beaten and unconscious and hurting so bad he couldn’t even sit upright through a forty-minute class.

A tear slid down my cheek before I could stop it. I swiped it away roughly with my sleeve, but more followed.

“You’re so fucking brave,” I said, my voice cracking. “And I hate that you have to be.”

I reached for his hand and laced our fingers together, grounding myself in the warmth of his skin. He twitched slightly, a little sound leaving his lips. My heart jolted.

His eyes blinked open slowly, like it took effort. He looked dazed, confused, in pain.

“Rafe?” he croaked, barely a whisper.

“I’m here.” I sat up straighter, squeezing his hand and wiped my face quickly. “You fainted. You’re at the nurse’s office.”

He blinked again, his eyes unfocused. “Hurts…”

“I know,” I said gently. “Just rest. Don’t move too much.”

He looked down and then around like he was trying to remember where he was, what happened. And then he winced as his arm moved slightly.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, not meeting my eyes. “I didn’t… I thought I could handle it.”

God. My chest squeezed. It hurts. “Don’t apologize. You don’t have to handle anything alone. I’m here, Eli. Always.”

He looked at me then, his eyes glassy and wet. “He found out… that I was at your house and some neighbour saw us together walking and told him. He doesn't know that I kisses you though.”

I kisses his eye,  my jaw clenched so tight it hurt. “You don’t have to explain. I get it.”

He was silent for a moment. Then, timidly, like he didn’t think he deserved it, “Are you mad at me?”

I froze.

“No.” I leaned closer, bringing his hand to my lips. “I’m mad at him. I’m scared for you. But mad at you? Never.”

Eli blinked at me, dazed. 

“I didn’t mean to pass out,” he whispered.

“I know.”

“I’m sorry.”

I leaned forward, room his hand and pressed a soft kiss on his forehead “Don’t you ever apologize for being hurt. Do you hear me?”

He nodded faintly, and his hand tightened around mine. I bowed my hand kiss his hands on mine.

He didn’t let go. Our hands still intertwined.

There was a storm brewing in me. A rage I didn’t know what to do with. But beneath it, there was something—something softer. A kind of protectiveness so big it made me ache.

.

.

.

.

He woke up after the last bell rang and I stayed there. He didn’t resist when I carried him out of the school. There were barely any student left. I finally set him down when he started bickering with him that he wants to walk so we walked the rest of the way, slow and quiet. His house wasn't far, but i didn't want to take the risk of his neighbour seeing us again. 

We didn’t talk. Our fingers brushed, then threaded together. He leaned a little into me, like gravity had shifted and I was the thing holding him up.

We have barely reached the halfway when he stopped.

He hesitated on the sidewalk. His hand tightened in mine.

"I can walk you all the way home, I don't-," I said softly.

He looked at me, wide-eyed. There was something raw in his expression. Fragile. Unsure.

"Can I stay here? Just for a second?" he asked, voice shaking. "With you?"

I nodded, stepping closer.

The chill in the air didn’t matter. Not with the way he looked up at me.

He was so close I could feel the warmth of his breath. My hands slid up his arms, careful, avoiding the bruises I knew by memory now. He trembled but didn’t pull away.

"You were brave today" I told him. "Even when you felt like shit. Even when I know you wanted to disappear. You stayed. You fought through it. That’s strength, Eli. That’s yours."

His throat worked like he was trying not to cry. "I was scared."

"I know. I was too."

He laughed, small and broken. "I must look awful."

"You look like you," I said, my voice catching. "Like the person I are about more than anything."

His lips parted. "Rafe..."

I leaned in slowly. Gave him time to stop me. But he didn’t.

Our mouths met, soft at first, barely there. He sighed into it. I cupped his face, thumbing away the tear that slipped free.

And then he kissed me back. Desperately. Like he needed to feel something good, something real, something that wasn't pain.

When we broke apart, our foreheads pressed together, he whispered, "it's the only thing that doesn’t hurt right now."

"I know, baby. And I am here for you”

I pulled him into a hug. He buried his face in my shoulder. I wrapped my arms around him and held on.

I wished I never had to let him go.

But when he finally stepped back, eyes lingering on mine, he nodded.

“Go. I don't want anyone to see again” he whispered.

I hesitated. But he is hurt. How can I let him go alone but I don't want him to get hurt again. I barely nodded.

"Tomorrow?" he asked.

"Always," I said.

He slowly walked away, I stood there for a long time, the taste of him still on my lips.

I didn’t know what we were yet. I hadn’t called it anything. He hadn’t pushed. I don't want to pressure him.

But whatever it was, whatever name it earned, I knew this much that i love him.

And I’d burn down the whole world to keep him safe.