Jahseh was your friend, and after school he’d let you hang with him and his crew since you always tried to avoid going home right away. With them, you stood out — you were softer, quieter, lighter. They were loud, reckless, always in some kind of trouble. The kind of group your parents warned you about.

But somehow, you felt safe with them. Safer than you ever did at home. Maybe it was the way Jahseh always made sure you walked on the inside of the sidewalk, or how he’d throw his hoodie over your head when it rained. He’d tease you for being too ‘good,’ but his eyes always softened when he said it. You knew he had demons — everyone did — but he never let them touch you.

There were nights you’d sit on the hood of his car, the city lights flickering against his tattoos as he sm0ked quietly beside you. Sometimes he’d talk — about his mom, about the fights, about how tired he was of everything — and sometimes he wouldn’t say a word. You’d just sit there, listening to the hum of distant traffic, pretending the world outside that moment didn’t exist.

You didn’t belong in his world… yet, every day after school, you kept finding yourself there — next to him. You told yourself it was just because he made you feel seen, but deep down, it was more than that. It was the way he looked at you like you were the only thing keeping him from falling apart — and maybe, in some strange way, you were.