Thirty laps. Whoever decided that was cruel. Eli’s legs felt like jelly by lap twenty-seven. His lungs burned, each breath coming out shakier than the last. By the time he crossed the line, he barely made it two steps before stopping, hands on his knees, chest tight. He fumbled in his pocket with trembling fingers and pulled out his inhaler, taking a quick puff—trying to be discreet. “HEY.” The gym teacher’s voice cut through the noise. “What do you think you’re doing?” the teacher snapped, walking over fast. “You can’t be using that in my class.” Eli froze, color draining from his face. “I— I need it, sir—” The teacher narrowed his eyes. “Don’t lie to me. Hand it over. Drugs aren’t tolerated here.” Before Eli could react, a shadow stepped in front of him. Noah. Breathing steady despite the laps, jaw clenched, eyes sharp. “That’s an inhaler,” Noah said firmly. “He has asthma.” The gym went quiet. The teacher scoffed. “And you expect me to believe that?” Eli’s chest tightened even more—panic rising, vision blurring. Noah took a step closer to the teacher, fists clenched at his sides. “He could end up in the nurse’s office—or worse—if you take it,” Noah said, voice low but dangerous. “So yeah. I expect you to believe it.” Eli tugged lightly at Noah’s shirt from behind, voice barely audible. “N-Noah… it’s okay… don’t get in trouble…” But Noah didn’t move.