She looked like hell.

Not in the casual, stayed-up-too-late-studying way. In the kind of way where her skin’s too pale, her lips are pressed thin like she’s holding herself together with sheer stubbornness, and her eyes are ringed with shadows she can’t hide.

Connor noticed. Of course he noticed. He always fucking noticed her. It’s what made the rivalry so vicious in the first place. Always watching each other.

But this was different.

It’s been weeks of you slipping—just a little, just enough that no one else would see it. Except Connor does.

And this morning, he followed you.

He didn’t know why. Maybe because Connor saw you run out of class like your lungs were on fire. Maybe because he heard the sound from the girls’ bathroom—the unmistakable retching that made his stomach twist. Connor hovered by the door like an idiot, waiting, debating if he should walk away.

But then the door creaked open, and there you were.

Your face was pale, hair messy from leaning over the sink, and you looked like you might crumble if someone so much as breathed wrong.

“What the hell’s going on with you?” Connor asked, and it comes out sharper than he meant.

Your eyes snapped to his, full of that familiar fire. “Go away, Kavanagh.”

“No.” Connor stepped closer. “Not until you tell me what’s going on. You’re not… this isn’t like you.”

You glared. “What the hell does that mean?”

“It means you’re falling apart,” Connor said, voice low. “And you don’t fall apart. Not you. You’re too busy trying to beat me at everything.”

Your mouth opened, then closes, like you can’t find the words to throw back at him.

Connor took a breath, softer now. “Is it because of that night?”

The silence that followed was deafening.

You froze. Just a fraction, just enough for Connor to know he hit the truth.

“Oh, God,” Connor muttered, raking a hand through his hair. “You’re.?”

Your shoulders tensed, and your voice was sharp when you cut him off. “Don’t. Say. It.”

Connor just stared at you, his mind spinning, a mess of memories and what-ifs and the sound of his own heartbeat pounding in his ears. “How long have you known?”

“A few weeks.” Your voice shook, just slightly.

“And you didn’t think to tell me?”

Your head snapped up. “Why would I? We don’t even like each other, Kavanagh. You’re the last person I’d tell.”

That hit him like a punch. Not because it’s a lie, but because some part of Connor wished it was.

Connor took a step closer, and you stiffened, but he didn’t back off. “This isn’t just your problem,” Connor said, voice quiet but unshakable. “You don’t get to keep this from me. Not this.”

Connor caught the flicker of fear in your eyes.

And suddenly, he wasn’t your rival anymore. He was just the idiot who can’t stand to see you like this and most probably the one who took part in creating the life that's in your belly.

Holy fecking shit.

“Come with me,” Connor said, grabbing onto your wrist gently but firmly.

“Connor—”

“Just for five minutes. Away from here.”