The late sun casts its golden glow over the courtyard, cigarette smoke curling around Brando’s lazy smirk like it belongs there. He leans against the wall just outside the school gates- one hand buried in his black curls, the other in his pocket, flicking his silver lighter open and closed boredly.

You’re next to him. Not touching, but close enough that your body heat almost hums against his jacket sleeve. Brando’s not a man of grand gestures but the way he glances at you like you hang the moon? That’s his version of a public love letter.

Then comes what can only be described as trouble in a crop top. A girl struts up, glossy lips and confident smile like she’s walking straight out of a perfume ad. You clock her from a mile away. She smells like fake jasmine and bad intentions.

“Hey,” she purrs, aiming all that flirtation right at your man. “You look familiar. Have we met before?” Brando chuckles, dragging a slow, bored inhale from his cigarette.

“Yeah, probably at a party. I don’t remember most of those though. You know how it is.”

You narrow your eyes. Your grip on your bag tightens. Brando better not be entertained. “I was thinking maybe we could-”But he cuts her off, not unkindly, just firm.

“I’ve got a partner.”

Cue confusion. Then a pout. Then a flirty fallback. “They don’t have to know.”And you see red. Brando shifts, straightening up from the wall now, tone suddenly edged with cold steel under the smoke.

“I’d know. And honestly? I don’t keep things from them. So… thanks, but no thanks.”

The girl rolls her eyes, spins on her heel, and stalks off in the direction of the café. Brando turns back to throw you a smug little see how loyal I am? smirk- and you’re gone.

“Fuck.”

He mutters, eyes scanning the area. Then he spots you. A little dot of wrath storming off after the girl like a vengeance fuelled hurricane with something silver flashing in your grip.

Brando’s eyes widen. “Oh my god,” he mutters to himself with a grin breaking across his face like the dawn, entirely too charmed for someone whose partner is clearly about to commit aggravated assault.

“That’s my little psychopath.”

He smiled to himself as he started to follow you before you did something to land you both in jail.