(This is the continuation from previous chapter but starting from eli's POV)

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We were sitting under the half-dead tree near the fence. It was quieter here.

"Aw, look,” came a voice like nails down a chalkboard. “Little Eli found himself a boyfriend.”

I froze.

Rafe stilled beside me, jaw tightening.

Tyler Jameson.

He swaggered toward us with two of his friends in tow. Tall, tan, too confident for someone whose brain probably rattled around like a coin in an empty soda can.

“Didn’t know they let charity cases have lunch now,” Tyler said, eyes locked on me. “Or is that part of the new gay agenda?”

Rafe stood up.

Tyler ignored him and took a step closer to me.

“Man, you’re lucky,” Tyler said with a grin. “Wish I had someone to cry to at night. Bet you're real grateful, huh? Bet you're real obedient behind closed doors too—”

The world tilted.

I couldn’t breathe.

Rafe was on Tyler in a second, fist slamming into his jaw. The sound was loud, meaty. Kids gasped. Some cheered. Phones came out. Everything blurred.

Tyler stumbled, but Rafe didn’t stop. Another punch. A brutal shove. He pinned him to the ground, fist raised again.

“RAFE!” I tried to shout, but my voice cracked.

Too loud. Too violent. My stomach twisted.

I backed up, hand to my mouth, watching Tyler bleed and Rafe breathe like a wild animal. The crowd was buzzing now, surrounding them like vultures.

I couldn’t do this.

I couldn’t be here.

Not again.

My head filled with screams that weren’t mine. My father’s voice, fists hitting walls, the sound of a belt sliding from loops. I couldn’t tell past from present.

My knees gave out. I dropped down near the garden wall, hands shaking.

This is my fault.

Rafe’s going to get expelled.

He’s going to get hurt because of me.

I’m poison. I ruin everything.

I couldn’t stop the tears this time. They slid down without warning. My chest was heaving, air refusing to stay in my lungs. Panic bubbled up, flooding every nerve.

People were yelling. Teachers rushing over.

Then—

“Eli.”

It was like being pulled from underwater.

Rafe.

He was suddenly in front of me, breathless, eyes wild, knelt on both knees. His knuckles were split and bleeding. There was a smear of blood on his cheek, probably not his. Teachers were trying to pull him back, but he shoved past them like they weren’t there.

“Eli. Hey—look at me. I’m here.”

My whole body was shaking.

“I—I can’t—breathe—Rafe—I can’t—”

“Shh. You can. You’re okay. Just breathe with me. Right here, okay?” He took my hands. They were ice. “Match me. In… out… just like last night.”

I tried. I really tried.

“Good,” he whispered, one hand rising to gently touch my cheek. “You’re doing so good. Keep going.”

My heart was beating too fast. My chest still ached. But the noise faded a little.

He was close. Closer than anyone had ever been without hurting me.

And he wasn’t angry at me. Not like Dad. He was scared—for me.

“I—I’m sorry,” I choked out.

“Don’t. Don’t you dare apologize.”

“But you g..got hurt. Because of m-me. It’s my fault—”

“It’s not.”

“You’re b-bleeding, Rafe—”

“I’d bleed a hundred times if it meant you didn’t have to feel like this,” he said, voice raw. “Don’t blame yourself. Please. Not for this.”

I swallowed hard. My vision was still blurry. My pulse still ragged.

But I wasn’t drowning anymore.

Then the teachers were back, pulling us both apart gently.

“We’re going to the principal’s office. Now.”

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The office smelled like disinfectant and dust. Too clean. Too sterile. Like it was trying to erase what happened.

Tyler was already inside, a bloody tissue pressed against his nose. He didn’t look sorry. Just pissed off. His parents had shown up, the principal hasn't even informed them. A friend of tyler called them before we were even there—loud, red-faced, spewing threats like the world owed them something. Like their son hadn’t just humiliated me.

I sat there, my back stiff against the cold plastic of the chair, fingers twitching in my lap. Every heartbeat thudded in my throat. My skin felt too tight, like I was going to explode out of it.

Then the principal spoke.

“Fighting on school grounds is a serious violation. We might have to contact all guardians.”

My stomach dropped.

No.

No. Not them. Not him.

I blinked rapidly, trying to focus, trying to breathe. My hands started to shake. I felt the tears rising and tried to blink them back, but they kept welling up, hot and heavy behind my eyes.

I could feel him—my father—in the back of my mind like a shadow. His voice. His fists. What he’d say if the school called. What he’d do. My body curled inward instinctively, bracing for a blow that wasn’t even coming. Not yet.

Rafe noticed. He always noticed.

He stepped forward without hesitation. “It was me,” he said, voice calm but edged with steel. “All of it. Eli didn’t do anything. He tried to stop it. Tyler provoked me. I lost it. I’m not sorry.”

I looked up at him then. Just a second. His jaw was set, his eyes unreadable, but I knew what he was doing. Knew he was trying to protect me.

Even when I didn’t deserve it.

Tyler’s parents scoffed loudly. “He assaulted our son.”

“He harassed another student,” said a voice from the hallway.

I turned just enough to see two students—one girl, one boy—walk in with one of the assistant teachers. The girl raised her hand. “I saw it. Tyler made sexual comments. Eli didn’t even move. Rafe stepped in when tyler got overboard. He deserved it. Tyler had it coming.”

More murmurs. Discussions between teachers. They must’ve seen it, too.

The principal’s face tightened, but he sighed. “Thank you. You can go.”

The students nodded and slipped back out.

Silence stretched in the room like a rubber band. I didn’t dare move.

Finally, the principal spoke. “Eli, you’re dismissed. You weren’t at fault. You may return to class. But don't get in trouble again. You have been a good student after all.”

I nodded slowly, barely hearing it. My brain was still stuck on that moment—the mention of my parents. That sick, sinking feeling of helplessness. Like being eight years old again and hiding in the closet while my father raged through the house.

I stood, my legs unsteady beneath me. Rafe was watching me. I felt the heat of his stare even as I couldn’t meet his eyes.

I just needed air.

I just needed to disappear.

—____________________________________

Rafe's POV:

The moment Eli left the room, I felt like a string had been cut inside me.

He looked like he was about to break. And I’d seen him broken before—seen that haunted glaze in his eyes, the way his shoulders curved inward like he wanted to shrink out of existence. But this… this was worse.

Tyler’s parents were still talking, their voices sharp knives in the background.

“He should be suspended.”

“He broke our son’s nose!”

My aunt was there now, leaning against the wall like she couldn’t be bothered.

The principal pinched the bridge of his nose. “Given the circumstances—and the testimonies—we’ll let Rafe off with a warning. But let this be clear: if there’s another incident, the consequences will be far more serious.”

I nodded. I didn’t care. Neither my aunt did. Clearly. She can't even pretend.

“I have work,” she said blandly to the teachers. “If you need anything else, call.”

And then she left. Just like that.

Not even a glance in my direction. No questions. No concern. Just gone. And I was left. Forgotten.

Tyler groaned. His parents helped him up and guided him out, the principal muttering something about one month of detention. I didn’t even register the details. My mind was already somewhere else.

Eli.

He wasn’t in the hallway.

He wasn’t in class when I returned.

His desk was empty.

A chill ran through me.

I walked down the hallway. Nothing.

"Hey," I asked someone near the lockers, "have you seen Eli Parker?"

The girl shrugged. "Nope."

I moved faster. Checked outside the classroom. Checked the stairwell.

Nothing.

My heartbeat started to thud too loud in my ears.

Then I saw it.

A guy from one of the senior classes was standing outside the bathroom, jiggling the handle.

"Yo," he muttered, annoyed. "Someone locked the damn thing. Asshole probably vaping."

He gave the door a half-hearted kick and left, muttering curses.

But something twisted in my gut.

Eli.

I didn’t even think. I pounded on the door.

"Eli?"

No answer.

I leaned down. I couldn’t see anything through the crack.

"Eli, please. It’s me. Open the door."

Silence.

My heart sank.

Then—

A faint, broken sob.

I didn’t wait. I threw my weight into the door. Once. Twice. The lock gave way on the third hit.

The door burst open.

And there he was.

Eli was crumpled on the floor, knees to his chest, fists in his hair. He was trembling violently, gasping, like his lungs had forgotten how to breathe. His face was streaked with tears. He looked like a shattered mirror—beautiful and broken in all the places no one could fix.

He didn’t hear me. He was somewhere else. Somewhere dark. His lips were moving. I leaned closer.

“I’m sorry,” he choked out between sobs. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—if he hurts you it’s my fault—I ruin everything—I ruin everyone—”

My heart cracked open. I wanted to shatter.

I dropped to my knees in front of him, hands hovering over his shoulders. “Hey. Eli. Look at me. Please.”

He flinched when I touched him, but I didn’t let go. I kept my voice low. Gentle. “You’re okay. It’s just me. I’m here.”

His eyes finally found mine, wide, glassy and terrified. Unfocused. I wiped a tear from his cheek.

“I didn’t want you to get hurt,” he whispered. “You’re hurt because of me. It’s always my fault.”

"This wasn’t your fault. Tyler was the one who started it. I wanted to hit him. I chose to. You didn’t do anything wrong."

He gasped like he was drowning.

"I can’t go home. If they call—he’ll kill me—"

My throat closed up. I wrapped my arms around him. Tight.

He clung to me like a lifeline.

"No one’s calling him," I whispered into his hair. "I didn’t let them. I said it was all me. You're not in trouble. I promise."

His breathing was still jagged, so I reached for his hands. They were ice cold. I wrapped mine around them gently.

“Match my breathing, okay?” I inhaled slowly, deeply. “In with me.”

He tried. Failed. Tried again.

“Good,” I whispered. “Now out.”

Bit by bit, he followed. His shoulders slowly loosened. His breath evened. The panic didn’t vanish, but it shrank—enough to let him see me clearly again.

“I’m here,” I repeated. “I’m not going anywhere.”

He blinked hard, trying to focus. “Why do you always—why do you care?”

Because I care about you more than anything.

Because no one should ever look the way you looked in that office.

Because I’d burn the world to keep you safe.

I didn’t answer with words though.

I pulled him forward until his head rested against my shoulder, until our chests pressed together and I could feel the tremors slowly fading from his body. I wrapped my arms around him and held on like he was the last real thing in the world.

“I care,” I whispered into his hair, “because I see you, Eli. Because you matter. Because someone should’ve told you that a long time ago.”

He let out a shaky breath. A sob. Then another. And then he was crying into my hoodie, gripping the back of it like it was an anchor.

Because he deserved more than the silence and shame the world kept giving him.

We stayed there, in that broken bathroom, surrounded by tile and fluorescent lights and pain.

But in that moment, in my arms—Eli wasn’t alone.

And neither was I.