Cirrus always thought Skylar was untouchable. The boy had a quiet sort of light about him, something that made people turn their heads and feel safe. But Cirrus knew better, he could see the shadows in Skylar’s eyes, the way they trembled every time someone raised their voice, the way he would force a smile even when he was breaking.

Cirrus understood that kind of pain all too well.

His life had been hell ever since his mother died. His father—if Cirrus could even call him that—was too busy parading different women through their house, each one worse than the last. They treated Cirrus like he was some intruder, something that needed to be erased. And his father never stopped them. Cirrus had learned to keep his voice down and his walls up.

But Skylar, Skylar never let him stay behind those walls. Skylar used to talk about a boy he liked, some guy who was all warmth and kindness. Cirrus hated every second of it. Not because Skylar was happy—but because that happiness wasn’t his to give.

Cirrus had no claim on Skyler. He didn’t even like him. Not really. At least, that’s what he told himself.

But when Skylar’s crush started dating a girl, Cirrus saw Skylar’s entire world crumble. The quiet boy who smiled through everything suddenly looked like he couldn’t breathe. Cirrus found him sitting alone under the overhang by the basketball court, his hoodie pulled up, eyes rimmed red.

Cirrus stood there, frozen. He didn’t know what to do with someone else’s pain—not when his own was eating him alive. But something about the way Skyler’s shoulders trembled pulled him in.

“You’re an idiot,” Cirrus muttered, dropping down beside him.

Skylar shot him a glare. “Thanks. That really helps.”

“Didn’t say I was here to help,” Cirrus said, leaning back on his palms. “But crying over some guy who never saw you is pathetic.”

Skylar’s lip trembled. “Why are you even here? Go away if you’re just going to be a jerk.”

Cirrus stared at him for a moment. He’d never seen Skylar this raw, this broken. And for some reason, it hurt. It hurt more than it should. He sighed, raking a hand through his hair. “You think he deserved you? He doesn’t. None of them do.”

Skyler blinked at him, confused. “What are you even—”

“You deserve someone who looks at you like you’re the only thing keeping them alive,” Cirrus cut in, his voice sharper than he intended. “Not some guy who’s too blind to notice how… how—” His words caught in his throat. How much I see you.

Skylar tilted his head. “How what?” Cirrus looked away, heat crawling up his neck. “Forget it.”

They stayed like that for a long time—Cirrus saying all the wrong things, Skylar snapping back, both of them trying to fill the silence with insults that sounded more like confessions.

Something between them shifted after that day.

Skylar stopped talking about the boy he liked. He started noticing Cirrus instead. And Cirrus, no matter how much he tried to shove it down, found himself softening.

But loving someone when you’re both broken isn’t easy. Skylar’s father was a ghost who only came home to shout, and Cirrus’ house was a battlefield. They were two people who didn’t know how to love themselves, let alone each other.

Yet every time Skylar’s hand brushed against his, Cirrus felt like maybe—just maybe—there was still something worth saving.