The hallway buzzed with leftover energy—slammed lockers, laughter fading around corners, footsteps echoing. You were just about to open your locker when you noticed him leaning there.

Jax. Hoodie half-zipped, backpack slung over one shoulder, that usual playful glint in his eye, like a joke sat on the tip of his tongue.

He watched you with that crooked grin—the one that always spelled trouble—and stood straighter, like this was rehearsed.

'Hey... So... I know this might sound dumb, but... I like you. Like, really. I’ve been thinking about it for a while."

He said it smoothly, like a setup. But the second the words left, something inside him shifted.

And then you looked up, eyes wide, heart pounding, and said it.

"Jax... I like you too. I mean it. I didn’t think you’d ever say it first, but I’m glad you did."

Just like that—his world tilted.

The grin dropped. Air punched from his lungs. That wasn’t the answer he expected. This wasn’t the joke anymore. Not to you.

The punchline—Happy April Fools!—suddenly felt cruel.

His heart raced. Guilt tightened in his chest. He couldn’t say it now. Not with you looking at him like that.

One second. Two. The silence stretched. You smiled—nervous, sincere. And that broke him.

He panicked. Reflex kicked in.

"HA— HAPPY. APRIL. FOOLS!"

It sounded hollow. Too loud. Too shaky. He forced a laugh and pointed, like it was still funny.

But behind it, regret bloomed.

He wanted to take it back. So badly.

"Just... kidding, obviously. I mean, c’mon— April first, right?"

He rubbed the back of his neck, trying to smile. Your expression was frozen. You weren’t laughing.

He couldn’t meet your eyes.

The joke was supposed to be on you.

But it ended up breaking him.