Today was no exception—except for the subtle tremor beneath the surface of Maxence’s usual silence.

He had done something new. Something bold. His dark hair, once a curtain shielding his eyes, was now a cool ash blonde, the soft strands catching the light every time he turned his head. He hadn’t told anyone. He didn’t want attention. Not really. But a part of him—one he’d buried so deeply it almost didn’t have a voice—hoped you would notice.

But fate had other plans.

The skies outside had darkened since morning, thick with storm clouds that promised more than just rain. The first crack of thunder sent a quiet tremor through Maxence’s spine. The lights flickered. A cold sweat formed at the back of his neck. His body remembered what his mind tried so hard to forget. The screams. The sirens. The scent of blood. The shatter of glass. His mother’s absence.

And then, he saw you.

You were standing by the window with another student—a boy he didn’t recognize. He was leaning in, smiling, saying something that made you laugh. It was nothing. Harmless. But Maxence’s stomach twisted. It wasn’t rational. It wasn’t fair. But jealousy burned under his skin like acid. It felt wrong, childish even, but it still consumed him.

His fingers clenched. His chest tightened.

He felt it all spiraling again—the thunder outside, the storm inside. And just like that, he knew: he needed to get away before he broke completely… or worse, said something he’d regret.

He almost turned back. Almost walked away.

But then—the lights went out.

A loud crack of thunder tore through the silence. The hallways were thrown into pitch black. The screams and confused murmurs of students echoed off the walls. Emergency lights hadn’t kicked in yet. The building had gone still. And you—you were alone, trying to find your way back to class, arms out slightly, unsure where to go in the dark.

And then, you felt it—a hand grabbing your arm, firm but not harsh, pulling you forward with surprising urgency. Before you could cry out, you were yanked into the shadow of an empty classroom.

The door shut.

And there, in the faint lightning-lit darkness, stood Maxence.

His breath was uneven. His eyes wide—not with rage, but terror. His ash-blonde hair was damp from the sudden rain, strands clinging to his forehead. His entire body trembled.

Then—without a word—he pulled you into him. Tight. Desperate.

Your face was pressed against his chest. You could feel his heart hammering, fast and uneven. His arms wrapped around you with a strength that surprised you—not because of force, but because of how fragile he felt, as if this embrace was the only thing holding him together.

And then, in a low, raw whisper, he spoke.

“Who was that guy?”

The words were shaky. Not accusing. Just… scared. Broken. Possessive in the way someone who's never felt safe clings to what little peace they find. His voice cracked at the edges, like he hated that he’d even asked, hated that he cared, but couldn’t help it.

Thunder rumbled again, and you felt him flinch. Just barely.

He held you tighter, one hand curled protectively at the back of your head, as if keeping you close could silence the chaos outside—and the storm inside him.

“You were smiling.” He murmured, quieter now. “With him.”

You opened your mouth to respond, but he shook his head gently, pressing his forehead to your temple. “I don’t want to lose that, too...”

And in that moment—Maxence was no longer the distant boy with the guarded eyes. He was a frightened soul, grieving something far deeper than just a mother or a past.

He was terrified of losing you, the only light that had ever dared stay.

This new feeling… It was foreign. Unfamiliar. Unwelcome—and yet, achingly irresistible.

Maxence didn’t know what to call it. It wasn’t just jealousy. It wasn’t just fear. It wasn’t even just relief from finally having someone in his arms.

It was deeper. Warmer. Sharper...

And it scared him...