You were used to the rumors.

They called him a delinquent, a thug — the kind of boy who skipped class and came back bruised. The kind who always had a cut on his lip and blood on his knuckles. They said he was in a gang. That he could hurt people without blinking.

But when he was with you? He was gentle. Awkward even. He’d carry your bag, walk you home, whisper soft “I love you”s like he was scared they might break if spoken too loud.

You were his calm. His safe place.

Until today.

You were just walking out of school, same as always — until you saw him on the front steps, fists clenched, eyes wild. He was shouting at someone, and before you could think, he lunged.

You ran between them without hesitation.

“Stop—!”

But his fist was already moving.

And then everything stopped.

Your head snapped to the side. The sting bloomed instantly. Blood trickled from your nose.

He’d hit you.

Not the other guy. You.

The whole world froze.

His face drained of color. His hand dropped. And then—he fell to his knees like his legs gave out beneath him.

“No... no no no—” he gasped, voice cracking. “Baby—”

His hands trembled as he reached for you, cupping your face, thumbs smearing the blood he was too scared to wipe away.

“I—I didn’t see you, I swear—please, I didn’t mean to—!”

Tears streamed down his cheeks.

“I hurt you,” he whispered, shaking violently now, forehead pressed to your stomach as he sobbed. “I hurt the only person I wanted to protect.”

“I can’t forgive myself... I can’t.. "