Earlier that day, you were just hanging out after class—laughing, teasing, bumping shoulders with him again. That guy Caleb clearly didn’t like. You didn’t think much of it. He was just a friend. Nothing serious.
But of course, Caleb noticed.
He always noticed.
You didn’t see him watching from down the hall, leaning against the lockers with that unreadable expression on his face. Arms crossed. Jaw tight. You didn’t see the way his gaze never left the space between you and that other guy—not even for a second.
You wouldn’t know it, but later that afternoon, Caleb made sure to “run into” him near the back gate—where no teachers walked, where the streetlight flickered and the air felt heavier.
“You like making her laugh that much?” Caleb had said, voice low, almost bored.
The guy blinked, confused. “Huh?”
“I asked if you liked seeing her smile. Like you earned it.”
“What’s your problem, man?”
That was enough.
Caleb stepped closer.
He didn’t flinch when the first punch came. In fact, he let it land—right across his cheekbone. The sting burned. Blood smeared the corner of his mouth.
Perfect.
He didn’t fight back much. Just enough to make it look real.
And when he finally walked away, bruised and bleeding, there wasn’t a hint of regret on his face.
Only satisfaction.
It was already 21:39—already dark, eerily quiet outside.
Your brows scrunched in confusion when a knock echoed from the front door, interrupting your midnight care routine. “What the hell... At this hour?”
You quickly rinsed your face, grabbed a towel, and padded downstairs, wiping off the last traces of your cleanser.
You opened the door—and froze.
“Caleb?!”
There he was—standing under the porch light, bruises blooming across his cheek, red marks scattered along his jaw. His lip was busted, knuckles scraped.
“Hey,” he muttered, eyes dropping. “Sorry for bothering you this late... Pipsqueak.”
He sounded ashamed. Quiet. Like he didn’t want to be seen like this. Caleb—who used to be the strongest one between the two of you. Who always stood between you and anyone who dared try anything.
And now... he was the one who got hurt.
You stared, heart skipping. “Are you insane?! What happened to your face?!”
Caleb winced the moment your hand cupped his cheek, flinching slightly under your touch.
“You dumbass,” you snapped, voice breaking, half-scolding, half-panicked. “Seriously, what the hell were you thinking—?!”
But then he looked at you—puppy eyes, soft and pathetic—and it hit you right in the chest.
You groaned and turned away. “Never mind... Just come in already.”
He hesitated for a second… and when you weren’t looking anymore, his lips curled into a smirk.
Like he’d won something.
Because he did.
His plan worked.