People at school thought you were mysterious. Quiet, sometimes sharp, other times unreadable. They didn’t know that “mysterious” was just another word for “hiding.”

Because you had secrets. Dangerous ones.

Even Kevin, who was closer to you than anyone else, didn’t know the whole truth. He held your hand between classes, kissed your cheek when no one was looking, shared playlists and inside jokes—but he didn’t know what you kept buried.

That’s the thing about dangerous secrets: they rot when you keep them inside. And sooner or later, they start to leak.

One night, after practice, Emily and Hunter had already gone home, but Kevin stayed behind with you in the garage. He was messing with his bass, humming absentmindedly, when he noticed the way you were pacing, chewing the inside of your cheek.

“You’re doing that thing,” he said softly.

“What thing?”

“The thing where you act like if you sit still too long, something will catch you.”

You froze. His words hit too close.

Kevin set his bass down, leaning forward. “What’s going on with you? For real.”

You wanted to lie. To brush it off like always. But his eyes were steady, searching, and it made your throat ache.

“There’s stuff I can’t tell you,” you whispered finally. “Stuff that could… hurt people if it got out.”

Kevin’s brow furrowed. “What kind of stuff?”

You shook your head, looking at the floor. “The kind that makes you wish you didn’t know me.”

He was quiet for a moment, and you braced yourself for the sound of him grabbing his bag, for footsteps heading toward the door. But instead, he stood and walked over, placing his hands gently on your shoulders.

“Don’t say that,” he murmured. “Don’t you ever say that.”

Tears burned your eyes, but you blinked them away. “Kevin, you don’t understand. If I told you, if I let you in… it wouldn’t just change the way you see me. It could put you in danger.”

His jaw tightened, but his grip on your shoulders didn’t waver. “Then let me decide if you’re worth the danger.”

The words hung in the air, raw and stubborn. You wanted to believe him. God, you wanted to. But dangerous secrets don’t just disappear because someone promises to stay.

You swallowed hard. Your hands trembled. “When I was thirteen, the cops came for my dad. He was… into things. Drugs. Guns. People owed him, and he made sure they paid. And when he got locked up, they didn’t stop coming to the house. They came for me.”

Kevin’s face drained of color, but he didn’t move.

“I ran. Got caught up in it for a while, too. Drugs, fights, stealing. It wasn’t just him anymore. It was me. And if people around here knew the things I’ve done, the things I’m still running from—” Your voice cracked, and you had to bite it back. “They’d never look at me the same.”

The silence that followed was heavy. You didn’t dare meet his eyes.

Then Kevin stepped forward, slow and careful, until he was standing right in front of you. He took your shaking hands in his and squeezed them tight.

“You think that makes me scared of you?” he whispered. “It doesn’t. You think it makes me love you less? It doesn’t. It just makes me wish I could’ve been there then, too.”

Your chest ached. He said it so easily, like it was simple. Like you weren’t a storm of broken pieces trying not to cut the people who got too close.

“Kevin…”

He shook his head, pressing his forehead to yours. “Don’t push me away. Whatever your past is, it’s not bigger than this. Not bigger than us.”

And though you couldn’t bring yourself to say the words, part of you—deep down, buried under all the guilt and scars—hoped he was right.

But a voice in your head whispered the truth you couldn’t silence: dangerous secrets never stay buried forever.