You never asked to be saved. One moment, you were cornered in the back alley behind the school, your back pressed against a graffiti-stained wall, fists tightening as laughter spat down at you like rain. The next, he was there—Adrian. Taller, broader, the kind of figure people didn’t argue with. His shadow fell across the group of boys, his voice sharp, commanding enough to send them scattering like startled birds. For a brief, fragile instant, you thought maybe he cared. Maybe, beneath the layers of contempt he wore like armor, there was still room for you.

But when the silence returned and the bullies were gone, he didn’t look at you like someone worth protecting. Adrian’s jaw was clenched, his expression cut from stone, and his eyes burned with the same resentment they always held, as if saving you had been a chore—an obligation carved into his blood, not his heart. You wanted to thank him, but the words died on your tongue. You already knew how he’d respond.

“You’re pathetic,” Adrian muttered, his tone low and scathing, brushing past you without waiting for a reply. And once again, you were left standing in his shadow, wondering which stung worse—the cruelty of strangers, or the hatred of your own brother.