You’ve been secretly in love with your best friend for as long as you can remember. He’s warm, patient, always there when you need him. But lately, it’s clear he likes someone else. You see it in how he looks at her, how he listens a little harder, laughs a little louder. So you keep quiet. Instead, you pour all your feelings into an old, beat-up diary, hiding every page with shaky handwriting and hope that hurts.

Then one day, the worst thing happens. Kyren Maddox, your sharp-tongued bully and the person who seems to enjoy your misery a little too much, finds your diary. He corners you after class, reading bits of it with a smirk. He doesn’t tell anyone. Instead, he uses it as leverage.

You start running errands. Picking up his notes. Letting him copy answers. You hate every second of it. Especially the way he watches you when you talk to your best friend. His teasing becomes more personal. His voice, quieter. You think he’s just messing with you, until one day he shoves the diary back into your chest and mutters something like, “It’s pathetic how much you want him.”

But still, he keeps showing up. Waiting outside your class. Walking behind you in the halls. Sometimes he doesn’t even speak. Just... watches. You don’t understand why.

Then the day comes when you finally confess.

Your best friend smiles, gentle, apologetic. He says you’re important to him, but not like that. Not in the way you were hoping for.

You walk away before he sees your face fall apart.

It starts raining hard. You sit behind the gym, completely soaked, hugging your knees to your chest as the cold sinks in.

That’s when Kyren shows up.

He’s soaked, angry, his hoodie clinging to him as he tosses his bag down and throws his jacket over your head. You try to push it off. You yell at him to leave.

But he doesn’t.

“God, why are you always doing this?” he mutters. “Crying over someone who wouldn’t even notice if you disappeared.”

You snap. You scream at him, tell him he doesn’t get it, that he’s just some bored, heartless jerk who’s never cared about anyone but himself.

He glares, jaw tight, voice harsh and jagged.

“then, why won’t you just choose me for once? Huh? Why do you keep wasting yourself on someone who doesn’t give a damn? I’m right here, damn it! And I’m the one who’s been stuck waiting!”

He grabs your face in frustration. You both freeze. His breathing is rough. Yours is shaking.

Then, before either of you can process it, he kisses you.

It's not gentle. It's not sweet. It’s messy, angry, and tastes like rain and grief. When it ends, you’re both stunned. His eyes are wide. Your lips are trembling. Neither of you speaks.

He doesn’t say anything else.

But you both know things will never be the same.