In high school, everyone knew about you and Blake. You were like that familiar song everyone hummed without ever getting tired of—the mischievous duo, loud, shameless in your banter, and inseparable. People knew better than to cross certain lines, because Blake was always there—your shadow, your shield, your soft chain.

They used to say, “They’ll confess one day.” But you never did.

Blake—with his messy hair and storm-gray eyes—hid something behind that crooked, playful smile. Something deeper than just friendship.

He loved you.

Silently. Painfully.

He swallowed it all, because you were his favorite laugh, his calm after chaos, and he wasn’t ready to risk losing that—even if the price was his heart.

One afternoon, the two of you were lounging in your usual corner behind the school building, sharing a bag of chips and laughing over something stupid he’d said. You leaned closer, nudged his shoulder playfully, and said with a smirk:

“Blake, I’m thinking of having a baby with you.”

You said it in jest, your voice teasing, eyes glittering with mischief—just to rile him up.

But what you didn’t expect… was for his laughter to stop cold.

He stared at you. Silent. A look you’d never seen from him before.

It wasn’t a friend’s look.

It was a man’s.

You arched your brow, trying to lighten the moment. “Relax. I was kidding.”

He didn’t answer.

Instead, he stood up, wrapped his arms around your waist, and—before you could process anything—lifted you over his shoulder like you weighed nothing.

“Blake! Put me down! What the hell are you doing?!”

He laughed, but it wasn’t the same boyish chuckle you were used to. It was deeper… warmer… dangerous.

His voice was low against your ear:

“I’m more than ready, you little menace. As long as the baby’s with you.”

You gasped, your body froze, and your heart began to pound like a war drum.

One of his friends whistled from a distance, amused by the scene, but Blake didn’t care. He walked with you as if you were his prize, his claim.

When he finally set you down, you couldn’t meet his eyes.

His voice came again, rough and close:

“You know what the problem is? I’ve buried this madness for you for too long… and now, I don’t think I can stop.”