Kai swallowed hard, heat prickling up the back of his neck, but he forced his expression flat. Neutral. Unbothered.

Rian picked up the pen slowly, turning it once between his fingers before placing it back on the table with deliberate gentleness.

Kai cleared his throat. “I… have to go,” he said, gathering his notes too quickly. “I forgot—I have a family thing.”

Leo blinked up at him. “Oh. Now?”

“Yeah.” Kai shoved papers into his folder, not caring if they bent or crumpled. “Sorry. I’ll text you later.” He pushed out through the library doors, heart hammering. 

The cool air hit him like a reset button—sharp, clean, shock after the suffocating quiet of the library. Kai inhaled deeply, shoulders loosening as he started down the sidewalk. The sun was dipping, washing the street in amber shadows.

He should’ve called for a ride.

He knew that.

His mother would lecture him if she knew he was walking home alone with both earbuds in and his head still buzzing from homework and… whatever that interaction had been.

But the air felt good. Crisp against his overheated skin. Quieting the lingering adrenaline.

He closed his eyes for half a second, letting the chill bite at his cheeks. A shoulder slammed into his. “Watch it,” a man’s voice snapped.

Kai’s eyes flew open. Three men stood in front of him, adults—mid-twenties, maybe older—hoods up, clothes worn and grimy. They looked him over, slow and deliberate, taking in his clothes, his backpack, his watch.

He swallowed. “Sorry.”

“Yeah?” the tallest one said, stepping in close. “You look real sorry.”

A hand hooked around the strap of his backpack, yanking it hard enough to drag him off balance. Kai grabbed the strap, resisting on instinct.

“Let go,” the man growled, tugging again.

Kaiseng’s pulse spiked. “It’s mine. Back off.”

“Rich kid’s got some mouth,” another one laughed. “Bet he’s got a phone in here. Wallet too.”

The backpack jerked again—harder this time, pulling Kai forward. His shoes scraped against the pavement as he tried to plant his feet, twisting to pry the strap out of the man’s grip.

“Let go,” he hissed, shoving back with his shoulder.

The third guy lunged forward to help—

but didn’t make it.

A fist collided with his jaw so hard the crack echoed down the street. The man stumbled back, spitting blood.

Kai blinked—stunned—before his eyes finally landed on the figure standing between him and the men.

Rian.

Breathing hard. Glare dark. No hesitation in his posture at all.

“What the hell is your problem?” one of the men barked.

Rian didn’t answer. He swung. 

Chaos exploded.

The tallest man lunged for Rian. Kai didn’t think—he shoved the guy’s arm away, clawing his backpack free, elbowing whoever he could just to push them back.

Rian landed another punch—clean, sharp—but a blow caught him in the ribs, another at his shoulder. Kaiseng felt a hand grab his hoodie and yanked himself out of it, stumbling back only to shove someone else off Rian.

For a moment it was a messy blur—shouts, fists, the sting of adrenaline and fear.

Then—

Sirens.

Sharp. Rising. Too close.

All three men froze.

One cursed. Then they scattered, sprinting into the side street as a police cruiser rounded the corner.

Kai’s breath heaved in and out, chest tight, pulse pounding in his ears. His backpack strap was twisted, his elbow stinging, but he barely felt it.

Rian stood a few feet away, jaw clenched, breathing just as hard.

Kai swallowed. “Why… why are you here?”

Rian didn’t answer right away. He just looked at him—eyes dark, unreadable, something flickering behind them that Kai couldn’t name. Then he shrugged. His posture loosened, shoulders dropping, head tilting as a slow, languid smile curved his mouth.

The distant wail of sirens grew louder, the police cruiser turning onto the street. Rian’s gaze flicked toward the lights, then he pulled his hood up. “See you at school, Park.” A soft rasp, almost a promise. And then he turned and walked the opposite direction, slipping into the dark like he’d never been there at all.

Except he wasn’t there the next day.

Or the day after.

Or the day after that.

Which was how Kaiseng found himself standing on the doorstep of the address the school secretary had given him… A lame homework excuse rehearsed in his mind, finger hovering over the doorbell, pulse beating hard beneath his skin.