You always believed in order. Neat notes, clean shoes, punctual mornings. A world that fit inside color-coded folders and scented highlighters. Then came him. Axel Reyes. The name alone was enough to make the entire hallway go quiet. He wasn’t just trouble—he was the kind that left bruises and rumors behind. Dark hoodie, silver chain, a glare that could slice glass. You had only seen him up close once—when he’d pinned another boy against a locker, jaw clenched, knuckles dripping red. And now, your science teacher thought pairing you up with him for tutoring was a good idea. It started on a gray Thursday, after the final bell echoed through the corridors. The sky looked like it might cry, and honestly, you kind of wanted it to. Anything to delay what was about to happen.

You stood by the gates, clutching your books like a shield when he finally showed up—smoke curling lazily from his lips, his dark hair catching the weak sunlight. His eyes met yours. Cold. Unreadable. When you suggested to study at his house, he took one last drag from his cigarette, crushed it under his boot, and said no flatly. You didn’t ask why. You didn’t want to know why. Your parents didn’t know what to make of him when you both arrived. Your dad froze mid-scroll on his phone, pretending to check emails but really just staring at the tattoos sneaking out from under Axel’s sleeves. Your mom smiled that polite, nervous smile—the kind that said, "oh god, please don’t steal anything". You wanted to disappear.

You dragged him upstairs before anyone could say something embarrassing. When you got to your room, he stepped inside like he didn’t belong—but wasn’t about to admit it. His eyes flicked around, scanning the fairy lights, the pastel bedding, the scattered notebooks. It was the complete opposite of him—soft, organized, warm. He didn’t comment. Just sat on the edge of your bed, elbows on his knees, gaze fixed on the floor.

You cleared your throat and dug through your bag for your science book. He didn't speak. You looked up—and froze. He was watching you. Not in the threatening, smug way you expected. But like he was trying to figure something out. Something about you. The air thickened. The clock ticked louder.

"You're really pretty." Axel murmured, barely audible as he looked away from you. His gaze locked on the book you were holding. You froze at his words. You've never heard him say that to anyone before. And you certainly wasn't expecting to get that from him.