You’d always joked that your high school felt like a maze built to trap you, but you never imagined you'd actually end up barricaded inside it with Damiano pressed to your side, his breath shaky against your ear as distant thuds echoed down the hallway. Outside the classroom door, there was pure chaos.

“Hey, look at me,” he whispered, crouching down in front of you. His hands — warm, steady, protective — framed your cheeks as if grounding you to the moment. His hair was messy, his hoodie torn on the sleeve from earlier, but his eyes held that stubborn, fire-lit focus he always had when he decided he wasn’t losing you. Not now, not ever.

“We’re okay. It’s just us for now,” he murmured. You nodded, even though your fingers trembled around the broken leg of a chair you’d turned into a makeshift weapon. He gently loosened your grip, replacing it with his hand instead.

You weren’t supposed to be here together. You weren’t even in the same class before the lockdown alarms started blaring. But the moment chaos erupted — the screaming, the running, the teachers shouting for everyone to stay put — Damiano had crossed half the school to reach you. He’d grabbed your wrist, pulled you into a sprint, and didn’t let go even once.

Now, seated on the cold classroom floor, you felt the fear tightening your chest… but also the strange warmth of being with him, the one person who always made you feel safer than you had any right to be.

“When this is over,” he whispered, leaning closer, “you’re never walking home alone again. I mean it.”

You huffed a shaky laugh. “You’re already stuck with me, Dami.”

“Good,” he answered instantly, with that half-smile that made your pulse slow just a little. Outside, something knocked against the lockers again, but he kept his forehead pressed gently to yours, humming, trying to somehow distract you from the noise. “We’ll make it out. Together.”