DASH POV

I was at this point last week. I haven't changed this week, either.

It's been exactly fourteen days.

Fourteen long, bitter, and painful days.

I know because I counted. Every hour, minute, and second. Every breath he took since he stopped breathing in my arms. Every time the heart monitor in the hospital last week beeped, steady and slow—just enough to tell me he was alive. Barely. Just enough to keep me from tearing the world apart.

And now, here we are.

An additional week later.

He's back home. He's awake again. Healing. Quiet. And, somehow, still happy. That's who he is. That's always been who he is. He doesn't have it in him to be angry the way I do. That part? That part he leaves to me.

I haven't slept more than a couple hours at a time. Can't. Not with the things I saw—what he looked like. Not with the cold touch of his skin right before he was rushed to the hospital. The boy I once knew, was for a moment, taken away from me. The image of him lying there in my arms—beaten, lifeless, dead—while I'm covered in his blood… is permanently carved into the inside of my skull. And I know exactly who's responsible.

Kwan.

He used to be my right hand man.

He used to be my best friend.

And now?

Now, he's the reason I wake up in a cold sweat every night, clutching my fists so tight they leave half-moon scars in my hands.

There's a reason people fear me when I'm quiet.

Because they know I'm planning something.

I'm a scheming strategist.

And when I scheme? I execute my mission perfectly.

For the last two weeks, I've kept up appearances. Calm. Collected. Focused. I do what needs to be done—check in with the team, make sure our story lines up, and handle the higher-ups with perfect poise. Smile when I'm expected to. Throw in a joke or two to lighten the mood. Pretend like I'm not fantasizing about all the ways I'm going to destroy the person who almost took him from me.

I play the part like it's second nature. Because, at this point, it is.

But my two closest friends? Sean and Mikey?

They're not buying it.

I'm in my dorm, checking on Danny while he's resting. He's been improving day by day. I see him getting stronger, gaining his "smile" back. He's returning to normal, much faster than I anticipated, but he comes from a family of strength and resilience. That's why his parents are the world's greatest ghost hunters, and his sister is the smartest lawyer ever. I headed to the other room, my original room, and started working on my physics work when I heard a light knock at the door. Like it was meant for only me to hear.

"I bet it's Sean…" I sighed to myself. And sure enough, it was.

Sean showed up unannounced, which isn't unusual, but I could tell by the look on his face this wasn't going to be a casual drop-in. He cut right to it—just walked in like he already knew I wouldn't turn him away.

"You gonna keep acting like you're fine, Dash?" He asked quietly yet bluntly, arms crossed like he was preparing for a fight. "I mean, Jesus, man. We haven't seen you in nearly two weeks."

I didn't answer. I didn't look up from the ground. I was lost in my thoughts.

Most of them weren't even meant to be there. Just hurt and pain masking a far more dangerous emotion than any of them realized.

Mikey followed behind him, quieter, but his eyes were locked on me the same way. He always was the more observant of the two. The two watched me walk back to my room and quickly followed suit. I took a seat at the desk, returning to "attempt" my homework.

"Come on, man..." Mikey said. "You've been on autopilot since it happened."

My fingers twitched around the pen in my hand. I didn't like where this was going.

"You're doing that thing again. That thing where you pretend you've got it all handled, but you're just suppressing it all down until it sets off like a bomb."

I leaned back in my chair slowly. "I do have it handled." But I really don't, at least, not right now.

Sean gave me a look like he'd heard that line too many times to believe it.

"Right."

"I'm serious, guys."

"No, you're simmering. There's a difference." Mikey said, stepping forward. "And we all know you're gonna boil over. We know you, Dash. You've always been the one who plots ten steps ahead, but this... this isn't just another move on the board for you, is it?"

I said nothing. Too busy wrapped in my own emotions to speak. But Sean's next comment snapped me back to reality.

"You haven't been the same since Danny—"

I didn't even realize how fast my eyes shot open and my posture changed until both of them stiffened in response.

My grip tightened around the pen until it cracked.

I didn't move. Didn't speak. Just stared. I felt myself reliving it all over again.

But the air in the room shifted, heavy like a storm front, and suddenly the temperature dropped ten degrees.

Sean's voice softened. "Dash, I wasn't trying to push, I just… when you saw him like that—"

"Don't… don't remind me." I cut him off. The change in my voice all but confirmed I was ready to break down, again.

Mikey stepped in cautiously. "You tensed the second his name came up. You can't even say it, can you?"

I looked away. Jaw clenched. I hated that they could read me like this. I hated that anyone knew how deep it really went.

Because they weren't wrong.

I couldn't say it. Not without feeling like I'd shatter from the inside out.

Seeing Danny like that… I could still smell the iron in the air. Still see the red staining his ripped shirt. Still feel the way his body was practically deadweight in my arms as all the life had been ripped out of him.

They don't know what that does to a person. Especially me.

"He wasn't supposed to get hurt again..." I whispered again, barely able to hear myself. A tear came running down my face. "He wasn't supposed to get hurt..."

I'm blaming myself for what happened because, as a boyfriend, I failed him. I didn't protect him.

"We know." Sean replied.

Mikey nodded. "You're not the only one who loved him, you know."

My eyes flicked up to him, sharp and unusually defensive. "Mikey, I never said—"

"You didn't have to, Dash. We saw it before you did." He answered back calmly. "We always see it before you."

I looked away again.

Because what the hell was I supposed to say to that? That they were right? That every second Danny's been alive since that traumatic morning feels like I have to hold every moment close because it can all be snatched away? That the only thing keeping me from breaking is the fire of revenge that's eating me alive from the inside out?

That I'd burn the whole damn world down just to make sure Danny never gets touched again?

No.

I just swallowed it all. Again.

The silence that followed was thick. It wasn't awkward—it was heavy. The kind of silence that only comes when everyone in the room knows something's about to shift.

Sean dragged a hand down his face and walked over to the side of the desk where I'd been sitting. His eyes swept over the scribbled pages. "You've been planning this since he came back to life, haven't you?"

I didn't answer.

Because what he said wasn't a question.

It was an acknowledgment.

Mikey walked to my side, arms folded, voice low. "Tell us what you need."

That got my attention. I turned slightly, just enough to glance at both of them over my shoulder.

"You're serious." I muttered.

"As a heart attack." Sean replied. "You think we'd let Kwan get away with what he did? After what he did to Danny? To you?"

I gave a small scoff, more bitter than amused. "He didn't do anything to me."

"The hell he didn't, Dash." Mikey snapped, sharper than I expected. "He made you hold Danny in your arms while he bled out. You think that didn't affect you?"

I looked away again, jaw flexing hard.

No. I knew it affected me. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw the blood. I held Danny close to me and begged for him to not leave me.

"Dash. Sean and I found Danny unconscious. We saw him bleeding out everywhere. When you got there, he was clinging on by a thread, because he needed you. You screamed for him to not leave you, crying tears of pain as you went through what was quite literally the most traumatizing situation in your life. Sean and I watched you go through every negative emotion when they told us he didn't make it. You say Kwan didn't do anything to you? Dash…" Mikey came closer, looking me dead in the eyes. "Kwan, for a total of twenty minutes… from the time you got to Danny to the time we heard the doctor tell us he didn't survive, took the one person you care about away from you."

The rage simmered again, deeper this time, quieter. It didn't roar anymore—it seethed.

Sean stepped in front of me now. "You're not the only one with a score to settle. We love that kid like a little brother. He is our little brother."

Mikey added, "And he still hasn't said it, but we both know he's scared. He doesn't feel safe. And that's not okay with us."

That last part—doesn't feel safe—that cuts deeper than anything.

Danny has always been brave. Smart. Tougher than anyone gave him credit for. He's the typical shy, slightly nervous, and super smart kid. But even I know that he's scared… because I know just how much damage Kwan has done to him.

I took a breath. Then another. Finally, I turned and faced them fully.

"I've been building the foundation. You know, gathering everything I need. Making sure when I strike, I have all the details right.'

Sean narrowed his eyes. "What does that mean?"

"It means… that this doesn't end with a fight in the hallway or some loud, public spectacle. No. That's too easy. Too quick."

Mikey tilted his head. "So what are you doing?"

My voice dropped, low and precise.

"I'm going to erase him."

Sean raised a brow. "You mean…"

I nodded my head.

"Dash… you want to take him… out?!"

"He nearly succeeded in taking our little brother out, Mikey." Sean remarked, then turned his head to me. "We're in. Where do we start?"

I pulled out a separate folder—the folder. The one I'd kept hidden in plain sight.

I opened it just enough to show them the top page. Names. Connections. Screenshots. A timeline of every shady move Kwan had made that he thought no one noticed. The hazing incident. The assault. Every suspicious text. Every loose thread I'd been pulling for weeks, maybe even months, without fully knowing why—until Danny was nearly taken from me.

Mikey's eyes scanned the page, then looked at me. "You're building a case."

"A perfect one." I said. "The kind no one walks away from. Especially not someone with Kwan's record."

Sean was already nodding. "This could work."

"It will. But I need both of you. You were in the frat with him. You've seen things I haven't. You have access. You know the blind spots."

Mikey didn't even hesitate. "Say less. Whatever you need, I'll get it."

Sean clapped a hand on my shoulder. "Let's end him."

And just like that, it was official.

We weren't just three pissed-off friends anymore.

We were a unit. A crew with one mission: protect Danny and bury the bastard who tried to take him from us.

And when the dust settles?

Kwan's going to realize that crossing Danny wasn't his biggest mistake.

Crossing me was.


DANNY POV

It still hurts to breathe.

Not in the way it did when I first woke up—when every inhale was like fire and my chest screamed under bandages and gauze—but in the dull, echoing way that lingered. Like the pain beneath my ribs that would never really fade.

Two weeks.

That's how long it had been since I died and somehow came back.

Not a metaphor. Not some dramatic exaggeration. I actually died.

And I remember everything that led up to when I stopped breathing.

The hard hit to the back of my head. The strong grip of his hands around my throat. The fury in his eyes. The punches and kicks I threw at him to fight back. The cold track beneath my back. The taste of blood forming in my mouth. The lightheaded panic that washed over me when I realized I couldn't fight anymore.

Then nothing. For a long time.

Then the panicked and concerned voices that were eventually recognized as Sean and Mikey's.

Then silence again followed by heavy footsteps.

And his voice.

Not his—not Kwan's.

The other one.

The one I never want to hear like that. Broken. Unstable.

Begging me to stay.

Screaming as loud as he could for me to come back.

That voice still echoes in my dreams, and every time I hear it, I wake up with a gasp like I'd forgotten how to breathe again.

I stared at the ceiling now, letting my body lie perfectly still on the bed. My head still hurts from where the stitches are, but that wasn't what kept me in this position.

It was the silence.

I used to love quiet mornings. But now?

Now silence just reminds me that I am alive. And sometimes, that feels like the worst part.

For the longest time, I was the kid that wanted to die because I couldn't deal with the world. I didn't want to be here. But when I wasn't here, the person who needed me crashed out completely.

But it wasn't all bad.

My body was healing—slowly.

I guess when my body restarted, because of my ghost powers, everything went back to normal. However, not everything was normal.

My thoughts were worse.

The thoughts of the hazing, and the sexual assault… they resurfaced.

I didn't want to think about Kwan.

But my brain didn't care about what I wanted.

Sometimes, I'd hear his voice in my head. That low, cruel tone he used when no one else was around. The way he used to lean in close, breathing words I wish I could erase from my memory.

"You're lucky I haven't finished what I started."

"You're easy, Danny."

"You think anyone would believe you?"

"Maybe if you weren't asking for it, this wouldn't have happened to you."

I clenched my fists under the blanket. Every scar on my body felt like it was pulsing with heat.

They didn't know.

Not Sean. Not Mikey. Not anyone outside of the two of us.

Well—three, now.

He knew.

The only one who saw the worst of it at all times and didn't look away.

The only one who made me feel safe again.

Dash.

I swallowed hard at the thought of him. Not because I didn't want to think about him, but because I couldn't think about him without unraveling.

He'd barely left my side for the first week. He didn't talk much. He just sat with me, watching me like I'd vanish if he blinked. His hands were always warm, always steady. He didn't say the words, but I could feel them in every breath.

I'm here. I'm not leaving.

But I saw the fire in his eyes when he thought I was sleeping. I saw the way his fists clenched. I knew what he was thinking. What he was planning.

And I'm scared.

Not of him. Not anymore. Never again.

I am scared of what it will cost him.

Because I know Dash.

And when he breaks—when he finally stops holding it all in—there's bound to be blood.

And I'm not sure if I can survive losing him.

"Hey, Danny."

There he was.

Dash stood in the doorway, a small smile on his face—the same smile I've seen so many times. His hair was a little messy, like he'd run his hands through it too many times. His eyes—oh, man—his eyes looked like they hadn't rested in days.

"H–Hi, Dash." I shifted up slightly.

We sat like that for a beat. The silence was heavier now, but less… empty.

"I missed your voice…" He said, quietly. "It was too quiet without it."

I swallowed hard. "You never really left the room. You never left my side."

"Nope. Didn't want to."

His hands clenched slightly on his thighs. He was trying to stay calm. For me.

"Danny…" His voice cracked. "You died. In my arms. I can't—" He exhaled sharply and looked away. "I can't forget that."

I could feel my heart pick up. Not because I was afraid. Because I knew what came next.

I reached out, fingertips grazing his hand. "Dash… just... just don't lose yourself trying to protect me."

He didn't answer.

He couldn't.

Because somewhere deep down, we both knew: it was already too late for that.


DASH POV

He touched my hand.

That was all it took.

Everything I'd been holding back—the feeling of his blood on my skin and clothes, the image of his unresponsive body, the sound of the monitor in the ambulance screaming that he wasn't coming to—I felt it all rush back.

And still, I stayed still.

Because if I cracked here, in front of him, it would undo everything.

So I met his eyes, even though it felt like my chest was going to collapse.

"I'm not losing myself, baby. I promise." I said slowly, carefully. "I'm just… finding out what I'm really capable of."

And that was the truth.

Because every second I spend holding him while he fights to live carved something new into me.

A version of me that didn't care about mercy.

Or restraint.

Or even consequences.

The version of me that is ready to burn this entire damn world down for him.

He didn't know what I'd already set in motion.

He didn't need to. Not yet.

All he needed to do was rest. Heal.

I'd take care of the rest.

Even if I had to become a monster to do it.


THREE DAYS LATER

The lecture hall wasn't packed, but the familiar buzz of students shuffling in, chattering about their upcoming spring break plans—as if we didn't just come off of winter break—or cramming last-minute notes, filled the space with a quiet kind of chaos.

I kept one hand loosely around the strap of my backpack, walking at a slower pace than usual, and another hand around his waist. Danny moved beside me, quiet, a small smile on his face, eyes shimmering. He couldn't wait to get back to work.

"Such a smart and sweet little guy." I thought to myself, chuckling silently.

He hadn't said much on the way over. Didn't need to. His smile told me everything.

However, the second we sat down, I saw something change. His smile turned into a slight wince. The tiny flinch when the fluorescent lights above flickered once.

Headache.

It's been happening on and off for the past few days. Concussion symptoms are fading, yeah, but they're not gone. Not yet, at least.

I leaned in closer, my voice just above a whisper.

"Head again, baby?"

Danny nodded, pressing his knuckles gently to his temple. "It's not as bad. Just... you know, some pressure. I think my eyes are still really sensitive to the light."

I narrowed my eyes on him, then the lights above us, then back to him. He's right. I forgot the doctor told me he might have migraines because of bright lights. It's just a part of PCS: post-concussion syndrome.

"Lay your head down, baby." I said gently. "Block the light. Close your eyes for a moment."

He hesitated. That quiet kind of pride is still hanging on by a thread. But then I gave him that reassuring yet stern look—the one that said don't argue with me, love, I've already decided—and he gave in, slowly lowering his arms and resting his head on the desk.

I adjusted the sleeve of his hoodie slightly so it shielded the side of his face.

"There you go, Danny. Rest your head. More importantly, rest your mind. I'll make sure you get everything later. Okay?"

He let out the smallest breath of relief, and in that moment, that was all I needed to hear. "Thank you…' He sighed calmly before drifting off to sleep.

Then the door opened ever so quietly, but my ears picked up the sound. And all of the warmth I'd just given…

Flipped.

Because the second he walked in, I felt my mask come off almost immediately. I narrowed my eyes and the feeling of rage started boiling inside of me.

Kwan.

I watched him walk in the room, a cocky smirk plastered on his face. The same smug expression he always wore when he wanted to play it cool. Hoodie on. Stride relaxed. Like he belonged here. Like he hadn't almost destroyed everything I cared about two weeks ago.

I didn't move. Didn't flinch. Didn't look like anything changed.

But inside, everything did.

He scanned the room, probably looking for a safe place to sit. He wasn't sitting near the front, where the professor could see him too easily. Wasn't near the back either, where he might look like he was hiding. He picked a spot four seats to our left, one row up. Close. Too close.

Stupid.

He didn't even notice Danny, curled over quietly, hoodie drawn, face mostly obscured.

But he did notice me.

He turned around, and made eye contact with me. He winked and blew a kiss, mouthing something that I wanted to punch him for. "You lost. Big time."

And that's where he made his first mistake.

I watched him settle in. Saw the way he cracked his knuckles like he needed to remind himself he still had power in them. As if the world hasn't turned on him already.

He has no idea.

No clue that I'd already started laying the trap. This wasn't just another class.

This was a performance.

I slipped back into my mask. It was calm. Normal. Distracted by my boyfriend's minor headache.

But under it?

I am planning his demise.

He has no idea that I'd already spoken to half the frat house after they denounced him. That Sean and Mikey were already feeding information back to me. That Kwan's name had been erased from every team text thread and group DM with all his "friends."

He has no idea that the people who once had his back are now looking at him sideways.

But he's going to learn.

Slowly.

Painfully.

And the best part?

He'll never see it coming from me.

Because right now, I'm not the threat.

I'm just the guy making sure his boyfriend is okay with dealing with the lingering pressure in his head.

I glanced down at Danny. His breathing was even, his lashes still. That same smile returning when he felt my finger graze his face.

Perfect.

He doesn't need to be part of this. Not yet.

He just needs to rest.

And I'll handle everything.

One move at a time.

I slipped my phone from my pocket, letting it rest on my thigh below the edge of the desk. No one could see. Not even Danny, who hadn't moved since he laid his head down. My fingers moved fast, quiet against the screen.

"Okay, Danny's not slow. We all know that. But I have to do everything in my power not to let my mask slip and watch this whole plan up in smoke. So, imagine who just happens to show up when Danny and I get back in class together for the first time since that day."

Mikey was quick to reply. "how close is he?"

I instantly answered. "4 seats left, 1 row up. Acting casual."

Then came Sean. "He just sat near me last period too. Ballsy or stupid?'

Mikey: "...both, knowing him. also, probably got that stupid grin on his face like he's invincible or some shit."

Sean: "Is little bro good?"

I glanced over. Danny hadn't moved. I could see the furrow between his brows softening. Maybe the pain was fading. Awesome.

"His concussion's acting up again. I told him to put his head down. He doesn't see him. Let's keep it that way."

Mikey: "copy that. lil bro don't need that smoke rn."

Sean: "What's the plan, Dash?"

I didn't respond immediately, because the plan isn't about words right now.

It's about pressure. Controlled, silent pressure.

Kwan didn't know who was still watching. He was oblivious to how many people had flipped sides on him.

So I'll keep him guessing. Isolated. On edge.

"Let him sweat. We start slow. Quiet isolation. By next week, he'll crumble."

Mikey: "make it art."

Sean: "For Danny."

"Always."

I locked the phone and slipped it back into my pocket, shifting just slightly in my chair. Not enough to draw attention—just enough so I was angled more toward Kwan. Watching him watch no one.

And from the tension in his jaw?

He was starting to feel it.

Good.

"Let it build, Dash." I told myself. "You'll bring him down soon enough."

The walls were already closing in on him, and I think he felt it.

I felt his eyes before I saw them. He had removed his sunglasses by now.

One lazy glance over his shoulder—too casual to be accidental.

He was trying to read the room. See who was still with him. See who wasn't.

And then our eyes met. For a split second, nothing moved.

Then Kwan blinked. A flicker of something crossed his face. He didn't smile.

Didn't nod.

Good. He knew better.

But he held my gaze a second too long.

Like he thought he still had something left.

I looked back down, slowly unlocking my phone again. My fingers moved with precision as I texted Sean and Mikey again.

"Going dark for a few. Taking out the trash."

Sean: "Copy. Want us out there?"

"No. This needs to be quiet. But one of you should come sit with Danny. So I know he's okay."

I glanced at Danny. Still resting.

Safe.

Mikey: "coming up right now."

Thank God we have the same class together. He was in the middle of the room, off to the side. But as I shut my phone off, I saw him come up the stairs as quietly as possible and walk over to me.

"I got him." He smiled.

"Thanks." I whispered. Then I stood.

Smooth and silent.

One step, then another down the row of seats. My bag stayed where it was with Mikey and Danny, who was still sleeping. This wasn't a leaving kind of move.

Just a step outside for air kind of move.

Kwan clocked me the second I passed him. I didn't even look at him again. I just kept walking, pushing open the side door of the lecture hall like I had every right to leave.

Like I'd been waiting for this moment since the second I watched Danny die in my arms.

But I didn't think about that. Not now. Not when the blood started humming in my ears.

I waited exactly fifteen seconds. "Long enough." I muttered.

The door clicked open again.

Footsteps. He followed.

I turned slowly, hands still down at my sides, like this was just another petty conversation. Like I wasn't about to make his entire face a crime scene.

Kwan leaned against the wall, arms folded, voice casual. "Something you wanna say, Dash?"

I stepped up to him.

No wind-up. No warning.

CRACK.

My right hand collided with his jaw so hard, I felt the echo all the way up my arm.

His head snapped to the side. He crumbled to the ground, nearly hitting the floor. No one was around. Just the faint murmur of the lecture behind us, muffled by the closed door.

Kwan blinked, dazed. "What the fuck?!"

I shook out my fist slowly, knuckles already bruising. "That's for everything you forgot I saw."

He snarled, stepping forward. "Oh, now what? You seriously think I'm scared of you?"

I didn't even raise my voice. "You should be."

His posture faltered. Barely. But I caught it.

"You don't know anything, Dash. You're swinging wild—"

I kneeled down, eye level. "I'm not swinging wild. I'm aiming. And when I aim… I never miss."

He opened his mouth to fire something back, but I cut him off with a raised finger.

"Careful, bastard. You don't want to say something that'll remind me why I should break the other side of your face. Like I promised to months ago."

We stared each other down, silence hot and heavy between us.

He didn't move. Didn't talk. Didn't know.

That was the best part.

He didn't know I'd already decided his fate.

Didn't know who had pulled away from him in the school.

Didn't know how far gone his power really was.

And I wouldn't give him a hint. Not a single name. Not a single reason.

"Let him think this was about me. Let him guess." I thought.

Then I stepped back. Turned around. I walked right back into the lecture hall.

Didn't say another word.

Didn't have to.

Because that punch?

It was only the beginning.

I didn't even bother checking if he followed me back in.

He wouldn't. Not right away.

He'd need a minute to feel his jaw. To steady his pride. To try and figure out what the hell just happened—and more importantly, why.

I pushed the door open and slipped back inside like I'd just gone to the bathroom. Didn't even glance around. Just moved.

I could feel Mikey clock me the second I got within five feet. He'd moved over next to Danny—probably the second I left.

Good.

Danny was still resting, head turned slightly toward Mikey now, brows less tense. Mikey had one arm draped over the back of the seat, fingers tapping lightly like he was keeping time with the lecture he wasn't listening to. His eyes snapped to my hand.

Then to my face.

Then back to my hand.

"You 'ight?" He mouthed.

I nodded once and slid back into my seat beside Danny, flexing my fingers beneath the desk.

"Yeah. I'll be cool." I replied silently. "Thanks again."

"Anytime."

A second later, my phone buzzed.

Sean: "I heard he walked out the building rubbing his face like he lost a bet. Whatever you did… it landed."

"Didn't even say his name."

Sean: "Cold. I like it."

Mikey: (in the group chat now) "you gotta ice that hand tho, homie. yk lil bro gon' ask what happened to you."

"Worth it, Mikey. Worth it."

The lecture ended moments later. Any notes I missed, I'll get from Mikey.

I looked over. Danny stirred just a little, shifting in his seat, his head lifting

slightly. He blinked a few times, rubbing one eye with the heel of his palm.

"How long was I out?"

"Not long, babe." I said, voice soft as I leaned closer. "How's the headache?"

"Still lingering, but it's more manageable." He winced. "Sorry for knocking out on you."

"You didn't knock out on me. You just gave your brain what it needed. You good now?"

Danny tilted his head. "Yeah. Better. Thanks."

I glanced just once toward the door. Kwan wasn't back yet.

But Mikey met my eyes from across Danny's shoulder and gave the smallest nod.

Yeah. Message delivered.

I settled deeper into my seat, hand tucked inside the sleeve of my hoodie now.

There'll be bruises tomorrow. But I'll live.

And when Kwan sees me again, every time he feels the tightness in his jaw,

he'll remember I'm not the same person he once called a teammate.

And this?

This was only strike one.