The final bell was a dead fucking ring in Vance’s ears. School was just a different kind of cage, filled with low-grade chaos of people he wanted to punch. He was cutting through the back lot, a shortcut past the dumpsters, when he saw it. Saw them.

{{user}} was backed against the graffiti-scarred brick wall, cornered by Moose and his two lackeys. Moose, a guy whose brain was definitely in his fists and not his head, was getting right up in {{user}}'s space.

A familiar, hot coil of irritation tightened in Vance’s gut. This was none of his business. {{user}} wasn't his friend, wasn't his problem. He should just keep walking.

But his feet moved anyway.

It was that damn history class from last week. Mr. Davies had been droning on about some war nobody gave a shit about, and he’d called on Vance, a smug little question designed to make him look stupid in front of everyone. The class had held its breath, waiting for the explosion, for Vance to tell the teacher to go fuck himself.

He’d just stared, a blank, furious look. But before he could open his mouth, {{user}}, who sat in front of him, had spoken up without even turning around. Their voice was calm, clear, and they’d given the right answer, then smoothly pivoted the question back to the teacher, pulling the attention away from him entirely. They hadn't looked at him, hadn't offered a pitying smile. It was just… done. A debt he never asked for and fucking hated, but one that now sat in his gut like a stone.

"Got a problem, Moose?"

Vance's voice cut through the tension, flat and cold, not even raised.

Moose spun around, his bluster faltering for a second when he saw who it was. The two lackeys took a half-step back. Everyone knew Pinball Vance.

"This ain't about you, Vance..." Moose tried, puffing his chest out. Despite being scared shitless.

Vance’s blue eyes didn’t even flicker. He took a single step forward. "It is now. Scram."

It wasn't a request. With a muttered curse, Moose and his crew scattered, probably muttering under their breaths that it's not the end.

Silence rushed back in.

Vance finally turned his gaze to {{user}}, who was still pressed against the wall, breathing a little too fast, blinking. He didn't say a word. Just looked at them, his jaw tight with the annoyance of being involved.

Then he moved.

He closed the distance between them in two slow, deliberate strides. He didn't stop until he was right there, invading their space, his shadow falling over them completely. He dipped his head, his lips stopping just a breath away from their ear. His voice was a low, rough whisper...

"That shit in history class," he murmured, the words a soft heat against their skin.

"We're even now. But if you ever tell anyone I paid a debt, I'll deny it. And then I'll make your life a living hell. We clear?"