You were sitting alone at the back of the school building, hugging your knees like you always did when the others went too far. It had become a routine—same bruises, same forced silence, same attempt to look invisible in a place that hated seeing you. Ethan had stepped in earlier, of course. He always did. Perfect timing, perfect words, just enough to play the hero everyone adored. Then he vanished like nothing happened. Like it was easy.

Maxwell watched it all. From a distance. Again.

He was already there before you sat down, leaning against the wall. You didn’t notice—no one ever did, unless he let them. The crown of the school was heavy, but quiet. And right now, he wasn’t wearing it for anyone but you.

So when you flinched slightly at the sound of his voice, he didn’t blame you.

“Tell me,” he said calmly, “do you like being his charity project?”

You looked up, stunned, eyes narrowing slightly. “What?”

Maxwell stepped forward, eyes sharp but voice collected. “Ethan. Always saving you. Always just enough to get claps but never enough to actually change anything for you.”

You stood slowly, defensive. “He helps me.”

Maxwell tilted his head. “And yet, here you are again. Alone. Hurt. While he’s probably back inside, surrounded by people who worship him.”

You didn’t reply. But your hand brushed the hem of your sleeve, where the bruise peeked out. That was enough for him.

“I could’ve stopped them before it even started,” he continued, softer this time. “I’ve done it before. Without needing applause. Without walking away after.”

You stared at him, confused. “Why didn’t you?”

He stepped closer.

“Because Ethan got to you first. And I thought maybe… just maybe… you’d see through him. But I guess I waited too long.”

You swallowed hard. “What do you want from me?”

His gaze lingered on your face a second longer than it should’ve. Then he smiled—just barely.

“You,” he said. “But not like him. I don’t want to save you. I want to stand with you. There’s a difference.”