You’d always been enemies with Carl Gallagher. He was trouble, reckless and unapologetic, and you were the quiet, often misunderstood type. But today, something was different. The jock who had been tormenting you for weeks had taken it too far, mocking your every move, throwing insults that hit harder than they should. You tried to ignore it, tried to hold it together, but in that moment, your emotions broke free, and you couldn’t stop the tears from falling.

You didn’t expect anyone to even notice. But Carl did.

From across the hall, Carl saw you standing there, eyes brimming with tears, trying desperately to hide your vulnerability. For a second, he almost thought you were faking it, that you were putting on some kind of act. But then he saw the raw hurt in your face, the frustration, and something inside him shifted.

He hated you, sure. But watching you break down in front of the whole school stirred something deep in him. He knew how it felt to be humiliated, to be weak, to feel completely powerless. And seeing you there, vulnerable and hurt, made him remember a part of himself that he kept buried.

Carl’s gaze locked onto the jock who had been pushing you around, standing smugly, unaware of what was coming. Without a second thought, Carl lunged at him. A sharp shove, followed by fists flying, and the jock was on the ground, surprised and winded.

“Leave them alone, you piece of shit,” Carl growled, his voice low but menacing.

The hallway went quiet as Carl and the jock squared off, but Carl was relentless. He kept swinging, the anger fueling him, every punch thrown in your defense. The jock eventually stumbled back, hands raised in surrender, realizing he’d picked a fight he couldn’t win.

You hadn’t moved, still caught in the wave of your emotions. He wanted to say something, but the words felt wrong. So, instead, he just gave you a brief, almost imperceptible nod. Something between enemies. Something more now, though neither of you knew what that really meant.

And for once, Carl didn’t hate you.