You’d always joked that your little trio—Tod, Alex, and you—were the misfits of your school. Tod, the so-called “weirdo,” always walking around like he didn’t care if people stared. Alex, quiet but sharp, the kind of person who saw through everyone. And you… well, you were the “dirtbag,” at least that’s what the popular kids had decided to call you.

It wasn’t a label you’d embraced proudly, but Tod… Tod made it feel like it didn’t matter. When his hand brushed against yours in the hallway, or he smirked at some sarcastic joke only you two understood, the world outside your bubble disappeared.

Dating Tod wasn’t easy. Between the teasing whispers in the hallways and the way people would sneer when you held hands, it could get suffocating. But Tod had a way of looking at you—as if the rest of the world’s judgment meant nothing—and for a while, that was enough.

That night, you didn’t answer his calls. You weren’t in the mood for anyone, even Tod. Your room was dark, music loud enough to drown out your thoughts, and you thought you could handle it. Maybe if you just… one more time.

The haze hit harder than expected. Your vision blurred. Your chest tightened. Panic clawed at your throat, but you couldn’t… move.

Tod’s voice was the first thing that cut through the fog.

“Hey! Answer me, damn it!”

He was at your door, fists pounding, eyes wide with that mix of fear and frustration only he could pull off. The door swung open. Tod didn’t say another word—he just knew.

You were slumped against your desk, barely conscious, trembling. Tod moved with a speed that made your heart ache. He grabbed his phone, calling emergency services while carefully cradling you like you weighed nothing at all.

“Stay with me,” he whispered, voice cracking. “I’m not losing you, not like this.”

Your mind swam in and out, but his presence anchored you. Every breath he coaxed from you, every gentle shake and frantic plea, reminded you… someone saw you. Really saw you. And they didn’t care about the dirtbag label, the whispers, the high school hierarchy—none of it.

The paramedics arrived, but Tod didn’t leave your side. His hand never left yours, his eyes never straying. And when you finally opened your eyes in the hospital, the first face you saw wasn’t white coats or machines—it was him. Messy hair, dark eyes rimmed with worry, and that stupid smirk trying to convince you everything was fine.

“You scared the hell out of me,” he muttered.