Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Zane jolted upright with a gasp, hand flying up to cover his mouth. As he slowly settled his breaths, he glanced at his clock, the display reading 6:17. He stared at it for a moment, unmoving, before flopping back down onto his black pillowcase.

Everything hurt.

School was never about learning, it was about survival. And even that felt optional some days. His mom insisted he go. Said he needed to "get out of the house" and "learn how to socialize." Like blending in would make him bruise less. Like he was deserving of a normal high school experience.

Zane sighed again when he sat back up, the small breath passing through his lips with a noise so quiet he almost couldn't hear it.

He'd gotten better at keeping quiet. Though the metallic taste every time he licked his lips was always a good reminder. It never healed. Never had the chance. Not with... Not with what happened.

His uniform was on his desk, waiting for him where he'd left it. As he pulled off his hoodie and slip on the button up, he scrunched his nose. It smelled like bleach. Better bleach than blood but still...

He tugged a gaiter-style mask up over his mouth and nose, its faded fabric familiar against his sensitive skin. It was black and the one thing he rarely bleached. It was the one thing he could control.

There was no need to fix his hair. It always fell the same way, covering the scarring on his eye. A small comfort. By the time he reached the bottom of the stairs, his frown had set in.

The kitchen light was off, and the air was still. He opened the junk drawer, grabbing a bright pink sticky note. Scribbled a lie: ‘Ate. Left for school. –Z’. He hadn't eaten. He never did. Not when his stomach was already knotted with dread.

Zane laced up his shoes, slung his bag over one shoulder, and stepped outside into the morning haze.

At 7:23, his phone screen glowed in the dimness. Early. That was good. It meant more time to walk slow, avoid backstreets, and hopefully, avoid Balto. School didn't start until 8:30, oddly late for high school. But late starts never helped Zane. They just gave Balto more time to catch him.

And he always did. Zane couldn't outrun, couldn't hide. Not when the werewolf was superior in every sense.

He winced as his shoulder brushed a telephone pole, aggravating one of the deeper bruises beneath his uniform jacket. They layered like sediment now, old pain pressed beneath fresh. He didn't even know how he was still walking. He was just waiting for the day his body gave out entirely.

If only it would come sooner. He just wanted everything to stop.

Please.

The school doors were locked when he arrived. Lights were on, but the halls inside were still lifeless. He spotted the Shadow Knights by the far wall, too far to hear, but close enough to stir a longing ache in his chest. He turned away before they could notice him. He’d wanted to be one of them once. That was before Balto made sure he knew his place.

He knew better now.

Heavy footsteps echoed behind him, hitting the ground with that very specific gait. He knew that walk.

No.

Zane froze. It was too early. Balto wasn't supposed to be here yet. But he didn't even get a chance to turn before his hair was yanked back.

"Look who's here" Came the voice he feared most. "My favorite little buddy~"

Zane flinched, heart skipping at the sheer volume of adrenaline hitting his body. "Balto, please–"

"Don't say my name with that filthy mouth" The werewolf snapped, venom in every word.

Zane's lips clamped shut. He was stupid. A fool, a moron, an idiot. He knew the rules.

"You know what that means" Balto cooed mockingly.

Crack.

The first punch stunned him. The second knocked the air from his lungs. He didn't know when the grip on his hair loosened, only that his feet stumbled backwards on the pavement as his body screamed in protest.

He hit the ground with the grace of an avalanche, crumbling down like the worthless nothing he always was. He curled in on himself, tucking everything in as tight as he could.

He tried not to cry out, he knew the rules, but the sounds still escaped him: soft, pitiful whimpers that made him hate himself.

He was such a freak, such a fuck-up. He couldn't even follow one rule.

Balto crouched beside him, yanking him upright by the hair. His breath was hot in Zane's ear.

"Why don't you kneel for me, slut?"

His breath caught, lungs stuttering to a stop. No. No, no, no. A thousand pleas sat on his tongue, mingling with the millions of apologies that waited to be cried out.

Balto pulled him up even further, looking pleased. "That's the expression. You always get it just right"

The boy's fingers left his hair and without the support, Zane crumbled forward. He pressed one trembling hand to the pavement, the other weakly trying to shove Balto back.

"Plea'e" He could only whisper like the pathetic waste of a breath he was. "Don'–"

Then came pressure. Crushing and sudden.

Pain exploded through his left hand as Balto stomped it beneath his boot. A cry ripped from Zane’s throat as he pulled back and curled protectively around it, his body shaking from the surge.

He just wanted it to stop.

Please.

He'd do anything.

Somewhere was a dull thud. He couldn't pinpoint where, everything felt muted. Why now? Balto had never broken a bone before.

Then hands, not Balto’s, were grabbing him, lifting him. He followed on autopilot, shaky legs stumbling and tripping. Whoever had him was surprisingly gentle. Or perhaps his standards were skewed?

What was even happening anymore?

Everything hurt.

Zane’s eyes were shut tight, breath shallow. A voice cut through the ringing.

"Zane? Hey. You good?"

He cracked his eyes open. The pain blurred his vision, but the voice was neutral. Not cruel. Not mocking. Just... familiar.

"…'ene?" He rasped.

"Yeah, that's me" Gene let out a short breath that could've passed for a relieved laugh. "Lemme see you"

They were in one of the Shadow Knights' hangouts, Zane recognized the spray-painted logo on the wall. They were behind the bleachers.No one else was there. Just the two of them. And…

"Where's...?" Zane’s voice was barely above a whisper. He couldn't even get the name out, the word stuck in his throat. He was so useless.

Gene jerked a thumb toward the edge of the clearing. "Over there. I knocked him out"

Zane’s gaze followed the gesture. Balto lay crumpled and still. He didn’t feel safe, not yet, but he didn't feel unsafe either. Everything felt surreal. He barely registered Gene’s low whistle as the older teen looked over his injuries.

"Damn" Gene muttered. "That's… not good"

Zane looked down, a sarcastic 'thanks' on his tongue. He didn't let it leave his lips.

One of his fingers bent at a wrong angle, swollen and already purpling. It wasn't the worst pain he'd felt, but it was sharp and constant, frightening in its finality.

"Tape" He murmured, voice faint.

"Huh?"

"For m' fingers" Zane explained. "You have'ta tape 'em together, righ'?"

Gene blinked, then nodded. "Yeah. Stay here. I’ll find some"

Zane nodded numbly and he watched the teen run towards the school. He couldn't understand why Gene was helping. No one ever helped. And now Balto…

His gaze slid toward the werewolf just as he began to stir.

Panic seized him. He ducked down, curling into himself, cradling his hand to his chest. He muffled his breathing with his mask, heart racing. No sound. No movement. If Balto heard him, saw him, it would all start again.

Footsteps approached through the grass.

Zane didn't move.

Chapter Text

Getting the tape was easy. The school was open now, unlike earlier when Sasha had nearly clawed the door trying to fix her eyeliner. He didn't understand why she couldn't just use her phone camera, but what did he know, right?

Regardless, Gene slipped the roll he'd swiped from one of the classrooms into his jacket pocket and headed back across the field toward the bleachers.

He spotted Balto halfway there.

The werewolf was upright again, staggering slightly. Gene’s frown deepened as he adjusted his course and stepped into Balto's path.

"I don't suppose you were just leaving?" He asked casually, watching as the werewolf tensed a bit.

Balto’s lip curled. "Tch. Where’s one-eye?"

"Away from you" Gene met his eyes and held the contact. Balto looked away first. "Now beat it, mutt"

The tension lingered for a second longer, but Balto knew better. He turned with a snarl and stalked off toward the school. Smart. He knew he wouldn’t win a fight like this, especially not now.

Not when Gene was still seething with rage and the instinct to sock him in the face another time.

He exhaled and picked up the pace. He didn’t see Zane right away, but as he ducked under the bleachers, a familiar dark shape caught his eye. Crouched low between a patchy bush and the metal supports, Zane looked like a cornered animal. Startled. Scared as hell.

Gene knelt down beside him. "Zane?"

The boy looked up and something in Gene’s chest shifted. Zane’s visible eye was blown wide, pupils shrunk to pinpricks. His mask had slipped to his chin, caught on his lip, and his free hand was clamped over his nose and mouth in a desperate attempt to stay silent.

He was the perfect image of beautiful fear: hollow-eyed, bloodstained, trembling, and Gene hated how it made him feel. Not pity. Not rage. Something ...messier.

"Hey," He tried more gently, reaching into his pocket. "I brought the tape"

Zane’s eye flicked to the side. His gaze darted across the field, checking for danger, for Balto. Gene got it now. He must’ve seen the bastard move earlier.

"Balto's gone" Gene assured him. "He went inside"

Only then did Zane start to ease up. Slowly, he peeled his hand from his face and sat upright. His nose was bleeding, less than before but still fresh. Bruises had bloomed in full force across his skin, and Gene didn’t miss the yellowing marks across his jaw, finger-shapes, unmistakable.

"Can I see your hand?" He asked quietly.

Zane hesitated, then offered it out. His other hand gripped it tightly, like he could stop it from shaking if he just held it still. He couldn't.

"Why're you…" Zane’s voice cracked. "Why are you being so nice? I don’t have anything to give you"

Gene blinked, tilting his head slightly. "Don’t need anything"

He decided to take the silence as a response and gently took Zane’s hand. The ring finger was visibly crooked, likely fractured or broken. Obviously nothing life-threatening, but painful. And not something he could ignore.

"This might hurt"

He peeled the edge of the tape and began winding it around Zane's ring and middle fingers, careful not to over-tighten. Two strands, neat and firm. He left gaps for the skin to breathe, he remembered that from training.

Zane, to his credit, barely flinched. Either the high of adrenaline was still numbing things or he was used to this. Or dissociating, it was difficult to tell.

"How d'you know this… stuff?" Zane whispered. Not dissociating, then. Perhaps just used to the pain. Gene didn't like that idea.

"Took a first aid course last summer. Dante made me. Said I needed to learn more than how to slap on a Band-Aid. I can use Band-Aids and ice now"

Zane let out a breath, his eye crinkling with the hint of a smile.

Gene grinned back.

Then the school bell rang.

Zane shot up, only to stagger and nearly collapse. He caught himself on instinct, breathing sharply through the pain.

"Whoa, hold on! Your finger’s busted, and you’re in *no* shape to go to class" Gene raised a brow. "Sit your ass down. You’re skippin' today"

The teen hesitated. Then, reluctantly, eased back down into the dry grass. "Garroth’s gonna look for me when he finds out" He muttered.

Gene tilted his head. "Let him. What’s he gonna do?"

Zane shrugged, though there was a twitch, almost unnoticeable, alongside the motion. "He's got anger issues"

"…Oh" That was fair. He'd heard whispers of how two-faced the teen's older brother was. Acted nice but was aggressive when upset.

"I’ll be here with you" He added. "Just in case"

Zane nodded faintly and Gene watched as the teen seemed to slowly process things. He was wiping the blood from his nose onto his shirt. Actually, most of his shirt had stain marks. Clearly bleached, but there were the faint outlines of past bloodstains.

"Where’s… Sasha and Zenix?"

“Somewhere around" He returned with a shrug. "Sasha was messing with her eyeliner last I saw. Zenix is probably napping in a tree"

"Mm"

They sat in silence for a while. Gene’s eyes drifted to Zane’s face. The boy hadn’t pulled his mask back up. Maybe he hadn’t noticed.

Now that Gene could see the full extent of the damage, he kind of wished he hadn’t.

Zane’s lips were cracked and bloodied, already beginning to scab over. His skin, where not inked in blood, had bruises of every colour.

But worse were the corners of his mouth, split open just slightly. Like shallow cuts, barely half an inch. But enough to echo something sinister. Joker-like.

What the hell had Balto done to him?

Gene didn’t get the chance to ask. Zane tensed again, breath hitching. Then Gene heard it too. Footsteps. Two sets.

Zenix and Sasha rounded the corner a second later. Zenix looked freshly awake. That figured.

"Hey man, I’m bored alread– Whoa"

Zane had pulled his mask up in an instant, shrinking into himself. Gene didn’t comment, but he hated how fast that shift had been.

It looked like reflex, like instinct. Something raw and learned.

"What the hell happened?" Sasha demanded, eyes wide. "You look like you got hit by a truck"

"Forget a truck! More like a school bus. Gene, what the hell did you do?"

He glared at Zenix, offended. "Me?! Why do you always assume it was me?!"

"So you didn’t run 'im over six times with a bus?"

"No!"

A quiet laugh broke through.

Gene turned to Zane, startled. The boy was laughing. Genuinely. Cracked lips and all, he was doubled over, shaking with breathless laughter. Cradling his hand, sure, but still laughing.

Gene smiled at the sound, it was a nice sound. He could get used to it.

"You didn’t put ice on anything, did you?" Sasha asked.

"Haven’t had the chance yet" Gene admitted. "It happened like… twenty minutes ago max"

"I’ll get ice. Or better, why not bring him to the nurse? She's better equipped"

"He’s skipping today"

"That his decision or yours?"

Gene raised a brow. "His finger’s broken, Sasha. He's not going in to go do math all day"

Zenix then chimed in. "Gene’s right, math sucks. But we could bring him to the nurse, get patched up, and then ditch, no?"

He opened his mouth, but Zenix held up a hand. "Not done yet! The nurse can keep her mouth shut. ...Probably"

Gene huffed. "Fine. Zane? You good with that?"

Zane gave a small shrug, then nodded. "She'll mark me present. So they won’t call home"

"Smart" Gene said. "Alright. Let’s move before gym class spills out here. I hate Mr Arnold"

He stood, offering Zane a hand, but the boy flinched the moment contact was made. Gene frowned, letting go instantly.

Zenix stepped in and took over without a word, helping Zane up and keeping him steady. He couldn't hear what Zenix was whispering, but it sounded like the usual mockery of the gym teacher.

They all hated him.

Gene let them lead, trailing behind a bit. Sasha fell back beside him, matching his pace with ease.

"Seriously" Sasha murmured. "What happened?"

"Found Balto beating him into the ground" Gene responded, voice low. "Looked like it wasn’t the first time. His hand’s probably broken"

They reached the main building. Zane’s limp was more pronounced now, each step pulling a grimace onto his face. He clutched his hand like it was the only part of him still real.

Zane suddenly slowed, eyes locked on a target.

"Zane?" Gene asked, moving up beside him.

The boy flinched and hurried forward. Gene followed his gaze. Kitty and her little crew were out of class, clustered near the front steps.

Among them was one of Zane’s brothers.

Gene straightened, subtly shifting to block Zane from view. Sasha and Zenix picked up on it immediately and gave nods of acknowledgement.

Kitty met Gene’s eyes for a moment. She didn’t say anything.

Good.

Chapter Text

The nurse’s office was quiet. Clean. Too clean.

Zane kept his gaze low as Gene guided him inside, one careful step at a time. His knee ached, his hand throbbed, and his stomach felt like it was folding in on itself. But this, being in a sterile room under fluorescent lights, felt worse than all of it. He hated being seen like this. Even more than the pain.

Zane hated being perceived, really.

He sat down slowly, holding his breath. The nurse greeted them gently, asking what happened.

Gene answered vaguely for him. Some nonsense about stairs that no one bought, but he was grateful. He hated talking.

Sasha and Zenix left, standing guard at the door. Zane appreciated that, in a vague way. But even that kindness added weight. It felt like everyone was putting effort into him that he hadn’t earned.

The nurse asked him to remove his jacket.

Zane froze.

He didn’t want to. His hands twitched at the hem before he slowly tugged the sleeves off, revealing the button up beneath. It wasn’t clean. He knew it wasn’t. There were bleach stains, faint reddish shadows that hadn’t fully washed out. His shoulders ached just from the motion of undressing.

He watched her expression shift as she slowly pushed up his sleeve to get full access of his hand. In the process, it revealed how his arms looked.

The bruises were ugly. Red, purple, yellow, brown. Finger-shaped blotches marked his arms. Some were old. Some were hours fresh.

He wished they’d just stop existing. Maybe if he ignored them hard enough, they would. In fact, it would be easier if he didn't exist. Why did he have to be born? He didn't ask for this. Or maybe he did. Maybe it was his fault.

The nurse placed an ice pack into his uninjured hand and directed him to press them to his shoulders first. She carefully examined his taped fingers. Gene had done a good job, apparently, because she only added a popsicle stick for support. Something solid to brace the break.

Zane hated how it looked. He hated how noticeable it was. He really hated being perceived.

So he sat quietly, nodding when told to move, answer, breathe. When the nurse asked about his knee, he just shrugged. It hurt. Everything hurt. It wasn't special. Nothing was.

She wanted him to stay in the office. Wanted to call his parents.

No. No, no, no.

His heart rate spiked just hearing the word call. No one could know. It was bad enough that he was the "antisocial loner" of the family. If they found out he was this much of a weak freak?

Gene stepped in. "How about he rests here for a bit, then we decide?"

Zane gave him a glance, quick, uncertain, but Gene didn’t look at him. It was understandable. Who’d want to look at something like him?

The nurse continued. Next came the part he’d been dreading.

"Zane" She said, voice low, "I need you to remove the mask"

He hesitated. But he couldn’t exactly say no.

It was a meaningless word anyway.

So slowly, carefully, it came off. Like removing armor. The air hit his split lips and raw skin, and he didn’t miss the way her mouth pinched slightly.

The nurse reached over and gently unbuttoned the top two buttons of his shirt before tugging back the collar.

Gene didn’t say anything. But when Zane dared a glance at him, his jaw was tight. His eyes were hard.

Zane’s stomach flipped.

He was mad.

At him, obviously.

He looked disgusting. Weak. He couldn’t even hold a conversation. Couldn’t stop crying. Couldn’t stop flinching. Who wouldn’t be frustrated?

The nurse reached gently for his jaw, tilting his face to check the corners of his mouth. Zane stiffened. She paused, then asked how the cuts happened.

He didn’t answer. Couldn't.

His mouth shut like a lock. His throat went dry. The words wouldn’t come.

"Zane?" The nurse tried.

He stayed silent. Embarrassed. Pathetic.

He hated this.

"Hey" Gene said beside him, softer now. "You’re okay. You don’t have to answer"

Zane blinked. His eyes stung.

It took him a few seconds, but he managed to nod.

No one pushed after that.

She asked about his forehead next. He mumbled something about hair pulling. His voice didn’t sound like his. Just something small and floaty, like breath through a crack in a wall.

Gene made a noise beside him, something like a scoff. Like frustration. Zane hunched his shoulders, biting the inside of his cheek.

Sorry. He was sorry. For being this much. For needing this much. He was so useless, so pathetic, so stupid.

The nurse finished checking over what he'd let her, making final notes in her chart. Zane didn’t mention Balto’s name. Of course he didn’t. Gene didn't either, and he didn't know if he wanted Zane to or just didn't care if the werewolf got in trouble.

He wasn’t trying to get anyone in trouble.

Even if Balto had broken his finger.

Even if he’d... Even... Even if he hadn't listened to Zane's "no".

"Alright" Gene said with that half-smile Zane didn’t trust yet. "You did good. We can go now. Do you want anything?"

Zane shook his head. "Tired"

The nurse stood quietly for a moment after finishing her notes. Her eyes flicked between the chart and his face. Whatever she was thinking, it didn’t show.

"Zane," She said gently, "just so you know, in situations like this, we’re supposed to file a report. It’s standard"

His breath caught.

"No– please" He said quickly, too quickly. He had to calm down, had to make it believable. "It’s not– Nothing happened. I’m fine"

Her expression didn’t change. "You have injuries, sweetheart. You don’t have to say anything now, but–"

"I fell" He said. Too loud. Too obvious. His voice trembled at the end. He needed to get himself together. He couldn't let himself ruin the perfect balance he'd had everything.

"Please don’t call anyone" Zane whispered. "Please"

There was a long pause. Then the nurse nodded slowly. "Okay. No calls today"

He nodded, heart still pounding. Gene shifted beside him, eyebrows pulling together, but he didn't speak. Not until the nurse moved get a replacement ice pack for him from the closet.

"You wanna go home?"

He paused his motion of pulling his mask back on. "...No"

Gene gave a small nod, like he expected that. "We can go to my house. No one’s gonna be there. We usually hang out there anyway"

Zane blinked at him. The offer sat heavy in his chest. This wasn't right but he nodded anyway.

Gene smiled. It wasn’t a big one, but it was warm enough that Zane felt like he hadn’t completely ruined everything.

Gene stood and offered a hand.

Zane hesitated. His arm didn’t lift. He didn’t want to touch anyone. Not right now.

Instead, he awkwardly hooked their arms together, using his uninjured hand to press his quickly warming ice pack to his temple.

They walked to the door.

When Gene opened it, Zenix immediately fell backward into the room with a curse. The teen hit the ground with a thud, clearly having been leaning on the door.

Gene laughed. "Dude"

"A little warning next time!" Zenix scowled, pushing himself up.

Gene smirked, that same confident little grin that looked way too good on him. "Next time open it faster"

Zane glanced between them, unsure if he was supposed to say something. The moment was light, easy. He didn’t know how to be part of that.

"We’re going to my house" Gene added. "Grab your stuff, meet us at the gate"

Zenix muttered something about lockers and red slushies and ran off, yelling down the hall.

Zane blinked after him. Did he say slushies?

"How are you feeling?" Sasha asked gently.

He startled a little, he hadn’t noticed she was still there. Her voice was soft. Careful. It wasn't... normal. Where was the confident queen bee? Was she... Zane didn't want pity from someone like her, someone who shouldn't even care about him.

"I got ice now" He offered, holding the pack to his forehead.

She smiled at that. "That’s good. I’ll grab your bag, okay? Meet you guys out front in like ten"

Zane nodded, letting her go. He and Gene were alone again.

"Well," Gene said, shoving his hands in his pockets, "since she’s getting your bag and I didn’t bring one... do you need anything before we head out?"

Zane hesitated. He tried to think clearly, but everything felt fogged. He was tired, but he didn’t want to go home. He didn’t want to be anywhere, honestly.

Except maybe wherever Gene was going.

He searched his memory. Oh, right.

"I have’ta pick up my art project"

"Cool. We’ll grab that, then we’re out"

They walked down the hall together, their footsteps echoing too loudly in the empty space. Zane kept one hand tight around the ice pack, the other gently clutching the strap of his jacket, which he’d tied around his waist. It felt like a shield, even if it wasn’t doing much.

When they reached the art room, Zane’s heart sank.

There was a class inside.

Gene didn’t seem fazed, but Zane’s legs locked for half a second. His eyes dropped to the floor.

He opened the door anyway.

The room went silent.

Zane didn’t lift his head. He didn’t have to. He could feel the stares: burning, dissecting, cataloguing every mark, every limp, every visible bruise.

"Oh, Zane" Ms. Whatshername said softly. Pity. He hated pity.

He should’ve put the jacket back on. Should've made sure every button was together. Should've made sure he was invisible.

"We’re just here for his project" Gene told her.

Zane nodded. He wished his mask covered more than just half his face. He wished he was invisible again.

"I’ll grab it. Just wait right there"

They stood in silence while she searched for the box. Zane clenched the hem of his shirt in his hand, twisting the fabric between his fingers. He didn’t look up. He didn’t want to see the whispers.

He could already hear them.

Someone to his left murmured something under their breath. Zane didn’t catch it, but he didn’t need to. He’d heard them all before. Freak. Loser. Weirdo.

He stared at the floor, locking his eyes on the tile pattern beneath his shoes. If he stayed still, maybe he could disappear.

"Zane?" Gene whispered.

He looked up.

Gene was watching him with that unreadable expression. Concern? Frustration?

Zane didn’t know.

"What kind of ice cream do you like?"

The question pulled him off guard.

"Wh– Huh?"

"We’re getting ice cream on the way, remember? What kind do you like?"

"Oh… uh. Coffee Oreo?"

Gene raised a brow. "Huh. Dante likes coffee too"

Zane blinked. That was... weirdly normal.

He almost smiled.

Ms. Whatshername returned with a small cardboard box. She handed it to Zane with a faint frown.

"Zane, are you alright?"

"I’m fine" he said automatically. A little too fast. He forced a smile beneath his mask, even lifting his visible eye slightly to sell it.

She didn’t look convinced. "Take care of yourself, okay? This is…"

"I know"

"And don’t think I forgot" She motioned to the envelope sitting on top of the box. "You got first place. Congratulations, Zane!"

"…First place?" Gene echoed.

"In the ceramics contest" She clarified. "Zane’s very talented"

Gene leaned in over his shoulder. Zane flinched. He couldn’t help it.

Gene backed off, but didn’t say anything about it. His voice was lower now. "First place, huh?"

Zane looked down. His face felt warm. He was glad for the mask.

"Wasn’t a big contest" He mumbled, lips catching on the fabric. He winced as one of the scabs pulled loose.

"He’s just being modest" Ms. Whatshername said. "There's quite a few schools competing. The winner chooses where the proceeds are donated"

She handed him the envelope. "Bring it back anytime before the twenty-nineth, alright?"

Zane nodded, but his eyes drifted.

The students behind her were still staring. One of them whispered something again.

This time, he caught it. The shape of the mouth. The rhythm of the syllables.

Freak.

He looked at the floor again.

He didn’t know why it still hurt.

He just wanted to leave.

"Let’s– uh. Let’s go. Thanks, Ms. Whatshername" He shifted the box into his better arm and waved with the other, wincing as he moved his fingers too far.

Gene didn’t say anything on the way out.

Zane felt a pit opening in his stomach.

Was he mad again? Disappointed? Embarrassed? Well, who else would he be mad at? Zane had dragged him all the way over here

He didn’t blame him.

They walked in silence until Zane broke it. "Sor– Sorry"

Gene blinked, then frowned. "Ignore them. They’re just suck-ups"

Zane stared at him. "You’re not mad?"

Gene looked confused. "At you? No. Why would I be?"

Oh.

Zane didn’t know what to say to that.

He stumbled slightly as his knee buckled for a second. Gene caught him instinctively.

"You still tired?" Gene asked, adjusting to support more of his weight.

Zane nodded.

"…We’re still getting ice cream, right?"

Gene snorted. "Yeah, we’re still getting ice cream"

Chapter Text

Zane met Sasha and Zenix at the gate with Gene beside him, the four of them drifting away from the school like shadows breaking off from the building.

He couldn’t quite wrap his head around what was happening.

He was going to Gene’s house.

The Gene.

As in the Shadow Knights.

He’d always wanted to be part of them.

So why did it feel so empty?

Why wasn’t there excitement? Why wasn’t he buzzing like he used to when watching them from across the cafeteria?

Maybe it was because he was tired.

Or maybe—

Maybe he was like his finger: broken. Broken in ways that couldn’t be fixed, broken in ways that didn't deserve to be fixed.

He kept quiet, clutching the box with his ceramic project like it might anchor him. It didn’t. It only reminded him of how sore his hands were, how stiff his fingers felt beneath the tape and the splint. Occasionally, his mask would shift and tug at the scabs on his lips. Another reminder.

Balto had come early.

Zane had talked back.

He was punished.

That made sense.

But then Gene stepped in. Then the nurse. Then Sasha and Zenix and ice cream talks and kind words and now... this.

None of it made sense.

Why were they helping him?

They shouldn’t be. He was disgusting. Pathetic. He probably manipulated them somehow, tricked them into feeling sorry for him.

He frowned under his mask and adjusted the box in his arms, the edge digging into his ribs.

That had to be it.

He was the bad one.

"Yo, Zane"

He blinked and lifted his head. Zenix was looking back at him, eyebrows raised.

Sasha and Gene had also turned to look.

"What’s your project anyway?" Zenix asked.

"Oh, uh…" Zane looked down at the box. "’s a rose"

"Ceramic, right? Like, clay?" Zenix tilted his head. "What color’d you make it?"

"Um… black"

Sasha smiled. "A black rose? That suits you"

Zane blinked.

Something bubbled in his chest, warm, sharp, wrong. He shouldn’t be happy about that. It was a joke. Or worse, it was kindness. And he didn’t deserve kindness.

But he nodded anyway, that flutter of giddy warmth making his hands shake a little.

He must’ve manipulated her too.

How selfish could he be?

They stopped at a small ice cream shop, just like Gene promised. A little bell rang when the door opened, and the cold air made Zane shiver.

His ice packs had long since gone warm.

For a second, he considered pressing his face to the freezer case. It would probably feel better than the sore, throbbing sting in his mouth.

Gene handed him a small cup of coffee-Oreo and a plastic spoon.

It was already paid for.

Zane stared at it.

He could’ve paid. He had money in his backpack. They were spending money on him now?

They’re not even charging him for being disgusting in their presence. They’re just… handing it over.

He was treating them like servants.

He was manipulating them.

He had to be.

It's the only explanation. Pity would've dropped him off at the nurse, sympathy would've walked him to the gate. No more than that. He must be doing something.

These were the Shadow Knights, they didn't play by the rules. They've never wanted him. Why now? What changed?

"Zane"

He flinched, nearly dropping the spoon.

Gene was looking at him carefully. Not angry, just focused. Focused on how disgusting and ugly he was, probably.

“You still wanna come?”

Zane’s chest tightened. "Y- Yeah. If you… If you don’t want me to, that’s okay too"

Zenix piped up. "We want ya"

"I’ll second that" Sasha added through a mouthful of strawberry swirl.

"I guess I third it" Gene said.

Zane ducked his head, his face warm. "Okay…"

He couldn’t stop the blush. It was embarrassing. Weak. And yet… he didn’t feel like he was intruding.

Not completely.

And that's what bothered him the most. He must've manipulated them so much he convinced himself.

At least with Balto he knew his place.

Gene’s house felt lived-in. A little messy, but not in a bad way. Comfortable. The lawn had rings, like someone had driven a dirt bike over it enough times to burn away the grass.

It was far from the controlled picture perfect lawn at his house. He liked this one more, it was honest.

Sasha used a key, though the door was already unlocked. Everyone kicked off their shoes at the entryway like it was routine.

"Zane, you can put your stuff on the table" Gene said, gesturing to the scuffed dining table just to the left.

Zane nodded and did just that, hesitating before letting go of the box. His hands hovered like it might vanish if he looked away.

"We’re watching movies" Gene added. "Zenix, you’re picking"

“It’s my turn!" Sasha argued as Zenix cheered. 

"Last time it was your turn, we watched Disney all day"

"I didn’t force you! You could’ve closed your eyes!"

Zenix burst out laughing and flopped onto the couch, digging through the cushions for the remote.

Gene waved Sasha off with mock annoyance. "I think we’re done here"

"What!"

Zenix wheezed, holding his stomach like the drama was killing him. Zane glanced at him, a smile tugging at his lips. It was strange. His mouth still hurt. His ribs still ached. But for a moment, everything felt just… lighter.

“Zenix, where’s the remote?” Sasha asked, grinning.

The teen picked up his pace, practically ripping the couch apart.

"You’ve got twenty seconds before I pick instead"

"No way! That’s not enough time!" Zenix scrambled to a drawer and dug frantically through it.

Sasha and Zane exchanged a look. Hers was playful. His was confused.

But still, he met her gaze.

That was new.

She winked.

He looked away, flustered.

He didn’t fit in. Not really. But for now, he could pretend. That's what he did best. It's how he survived, how he kept himself invisible.

Chapter Text

Ordering pizza after a day of movies and video games should’ve been easy.

But then again, nothing was ever easy when Zenix was involved. It should just be expected at this point.

"I’m just saying!" Zenix insisted, halfway upside-down on the couch, "We should get pineapple. It’s got vitamin C"

"Then take a multivitamin" Sasha snapped. "No one’s ruining this pizza with your nonsense"

"Not ruining" He corrected. "It's enhancing"

Gene leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, letting their voices wash over him. It was familiar noise. Safe, somehow.

Across the room, Zane sat at the edge of the couch. He hadn’t much since they got home, but after a couple hours he'd loosened up. His fingers, taped and stiff, rested on his knees, and he kept glancing between the three of them like he wasn’t sure he was still allowed to be here.

Gene cleared his throat. "Zane?"

Zane flinched. "Yeah?"

"You allergic to anythin'?"

He blinked. "What?"

"Pizza toppings. Preferences. Anything we should avoid?"

"Oh. Uh… no. I’m good. You don’t have to–"

"We’re already ordering. Might as well get what everyone wants" Gene tilted his head. "Any favorites?"

“…Pepperoni?” It sounded more like a question than a preference, but it was better than nothing. Much better, in fact.

"Classic" Gene murmured, and turned back to the others. 'That settles it. One plain pepperoni"

Zenix groaned in betrayal. "You always want that! What about my pineapple? How am I supposed to fight me food?"

Sasha shoved a throw pillow in his face. "What about it? Just dump that hot sauce on it"

Gene placed the order while Zenix picked out the next movie, which ended up being The Dark Knight because he rigged the "vote".

Zane curled up at the far end of the couch, seated a bit sideways so that he could see every entrance. Despite the movie being nowhere near recent, the teen hadn't seemed to have seen it before.

He hadn't seen many of them, surprisingly. Sasha had commented about it and Zane had said something vague about limited free time after studying. As if he actually needed to study.

Gene could tell the boy had that natural intelligence. Same kind he had. Absorb and remember, he could tell by the way Zane's expression slightly mirrored those onscreen, as if committing everything to memory, down to the exact emotion.

Halfway through the movie, Gene glanced over at him. Zane was smiling.

It wasn’t even a laugh. Barely more than a quiet breath through his nose. But his eyes crinkled, and since he'd tugged his mask down just enough to drink from the soda can he’d been nursing for half an hour, Gene got a glimpse at his lips curving up.

Gene looked back at the screen before Zane could catch him staring. ...Not that it mattered.

The pizza arrived pretty quickly, the delivery guy knew the best route by now. They were regulars.

Gene threw a blanket at Zenix to get him to pause the movie. Sasha immediately claimed three slices. Zane, predictably, tried to pay.

Gene raised an eyebrow. "You’re a guest"

"But I can help–"

"Next time" It wasn’t a question. Just a statement. "This one’s on us"

Zane stared at him for a second too long. Then nodded. "Okay"

It wasn’t exactly agreement, more like surrender. But it worked.

As the credits rolled and Zenix dramatically declared the movie a masterpiece of modern cinema, Gene noticed Zane leaning more into the cushions. His eyes had started to droop.

Gene didn’t say anything.

By the time he returned from cleaning up the pizza box, Zane was curled up with his head tucked beneath the armrest, mouth slightly open, hand still protectively hovering near his abdomen.

He was fast asleep.

Gene felt something strange tug in his chest. A warmth he didn’t fully understand.

A key turned in the front door.

Gene stood quickly, slipping into the hallway just as Dante stepped inside, backpack slung over one shoulder, earbuds still in.

His younger brother froze when he saw him. "Oh. You’re home. Great"

Gene flapped a hand dismissively. "Shh"

Dante blinked. "Why?"

Gene jerked a thumb toward the living room.

Dante leaned to peek in, catching a glimpse of Zane on the couch. "…Wait. Is that Zane Ro’Meave?"

"Yep"

Dante squinted, then leaned back, voice low. "I've never seen him with anyone before. Didn’t even know he could socialize"

Gene raised an eyebrow.

"What?" Dante shrugged. "You asked"

"I didn’t"

"Still" He opened the fridge. "You guys eat all the pizza?"

"There’s a couple slices left, save some for Mom"

"Obviously" Dante slipped a cold slice out and padded upstairs without another word.

Gene rolled his eyes and returned to the living room. Sasha was collecting her stuff, she rarely slept over. Zenix, however...

"I hope you know I'm not sleeping" The teen told him, very matter of factly. "A new update came out yesterday and there's *no way* I'm letting my rank go down again"

He sighed and went to his room to change. Zane was still in his bloodied uniform, but it wouldn't kill him to sleep in it.

He clearly needed the sleep.

Gene ended up staying awake with Zenix, watching him game with as little noise as possible. A feat that was tested by three losses in a row.

The door creaked open again around midnight.

Gene, now half-asleep on the couch, opened one eye as his mom stepped in, shoulders slouched with exhaustion.

"Oh, you’re still up?" She asked, dropping her keys into the bowl.

"Sorta" He yawned. "There’s leftover pizza"

She smiled. "I’ll get some in a minute. Who’s the kid?"

"Friend. He’s staying the night"

Her eyes softened as she observed the living room. "Alright. Just make sure he’s got a blanket. Hi Zenix"

"Hi, mom two point oh"

She patted his hair as she passed. "Night boys"

Gene rolled his eyes before looking back toward Zane.

Still asleep. Still curled in on himself like he expected to be kicked out at any second. But there was a certain serenity in his expression despite the occasional twitch. He looked better like this.

Gene fell asleep to the sound of controller buttons clicking and the thought of Zane's smile earlier.

Chapter Text

Gene was used to waking up to chaos.

Sasha blasting music. Zenix shouting at his screen. Dante being Dante.

But he wasn’t used to waking up to the sound of someone gasping like they couldn’t breathe.

Gene blinked blearily, pushing himself upright. Zane was curled up on the couch, his back tense, fingers clawed into the blanket. His breathing came in shallow bursts, barely restrained panic making every inhale sharp and tight.

Then, without warning, he shot upright like he'd been launched.

Gene sat still, waiting. Zane’s eyes flicked around the room, unfocused. Only when he realized where he was did his shoulders drop a fraction. Still tense. Still bracing for something.

"…You good?" Gene asked, voice low.

Zane didn’t answer. He just nodded once, too quick to be honest.

Gene didn’t push.

Instead, he stood up, stretching. "We’ve got like, an hour before we need to head out. You hungry?"

"No"

It was immediate. Defensive.

Gene tilted his head. "You sure?"

Zane stood, brushing himself off like the blanket had somehow shamed him. "I don’t eat breakfast"

Not I’m not hungry. Not I’ll eat later. Just I don’t eat breakfast. Like it was a rule.

Gene didn’t buy it, but Zane looked like he’d snap in half if the wind hit wrong, so he just shrugged. "Suit yourself. Plenty on the menu if you change your mind"

He stepped into the kitchen, starting the usual routine. Toast, and eggs. Something quick but warm. While the pan heated, he paused, grabbed a sticky note from the junk drawer, and scrawled

「 Dante — Don’t eat my chips again. I'll kill you.
Mom — Don't worry about the living room, Zenix is gonna clean it this time.」

He stuck it to the fridge as he pulled out a couple eggs and some cheese.

The pan was hot by the time he turned back, so he cracked the eggs in, scrambling them. He dropped a couple slices of bread into the toaster. It barely worked, but it was better than nothing.

Gene yawned as he seasoned the eggs, mixing with the spatula that'd seen it all. The toast popped up halfway through, slightly too pale, but he left it as-is and set it on a plate.

The eggs followed soon after, but he had enough time to butter and cut each slice in half.

Dante wasn’t helpless, but he was a fifteen-year-old with the nutritional instincts of a raccoon.

Zane wandered into the hallway, phone in hand, and stopped when he caught Gene looking. He hesitated, then showed the screen.

30 missed messages. 6 missed calls.

Gene only caught a glimpse, but it was more than enough.

Mom: [22 new messages]

Are you okay? Please text me back. 

Dad: [6 new messages]

You’re not dragging our name through the ...more

Garroth: [1 new message]

Where r u?

Vylad: [1 new message]

dont come home dads pissed

Zane looked away with a sheepish shrug. "Forgot to let them know I was okay"

Gene, for once, couldn't think of an answer.

He just watched the boy tap something out, staring at the screen like he was bracing for it to explode. Then he slipped the phone into his pocket.

Zenix tumbled out of Gene’s room, rubbing his face with one hand. "Dude!" He groaned. "I forgot I have gym today I gotta get my clothes"

Gene jerked a thumb to the door. "Better run"

"I am!" Zenix grabbed his shoes. "Be right back!"

He paused halfway out the door and glanced at Zane. "Wait! What size shirt you wear?"

Zane blinked. "Uh… small?"

"Close enough. I’m bringing you a shirt. Yours is gross. No arguing"

Then he vanished.

Zane looked down at his blood-smeared uniform, like he was only just realizing it was still on. He didn’t say anything.

Gene handed him a water bottle. They couldn't drink from the tap since the filter broke three weeks ago. "...And now we wait"

By the time Zenix returned, very much out of breath, Gene had changed and eaten a slice of toast. Zenix tossed Zane a shirt that looked a size too big.

"Best I could do" He said, grinning. "You’ll be fine"

Zane ducked into the bathroom, emerging a few minutes later looking… not quite comfortable, but less stiff. Like the shirt wasn't pressing on any wounds.

Gene checked the time. "Alright. Eat, then we have to go"

Zenix's grin widened. "You know I'd die for you, right?"

He rolled his eyes, watching the teen pour tabasco sauce on his portion of eggs and then eat with his usual gusto.

They left as a group, Gene locking the door behind them. But not before placing the remaining eggs in Tupperware and into the fridge.

Dante would know.

Sasha met them at the corner, sipping an iced coffee she definitely didn’t pay for. Probably swiped from her dad again.

"You look like you haven’t slept in a month" She told Zenix.

"Thanks. I put a lot of effort into this look"

They fell into a rhythm on the walk to school, Zenix rambling about his game stats, Sasha commenting on people’s outfits, Zane quiet but present.

Gene didn’t miss the way Zane stuck a little closer than before. Or how his eyes were searching. For Balto, probably.

He didn’t say anything.

But he noticed.

Chapter Text

Zane kept his head down the whole walk to class.

It didn’t help. People still stared.

He could feel it: every glance, every hushed whisper that stopped the moment he got too close. His name passed between people like static, always just quiet enough to make him question if he was imagining it.

He wasn’t.

"Did you hear about Balto?"

"Yeah, Zane freaking decked him–"

"No way. He doesn’t even talk"

Gene and Zenix didn’t say anything. They kept pace with him like nothing was weird, like it was just another day, but that somehow made it worse. Like they hadn’t heard. Like they had heard, but didn’t care.

Sasha walked ahead of them, sipping something iced from a cup labeled Maggie’s Café. She didn’t offer him any. He didn’t ask.

By the time they reached the main hall, Zane’s stomach was twisted so tight he thought he might be sick.

He peeled off from the group without a word.

Class didn’t help.

Every squeak of a chair made him flinch. The teacher’s voice was too loud, ricocheting off the walls like it had teeth. The buzzing from the ceiling light drilled into the base of his skull. He kept his head down, letting his bangs shadow the bruises blooming on his skin.

He wrote and erased his name five times before realizing he didn’t know what the assignment was.

His borrowed shirt, a size too big and smelling faintly of a different detergent, felt like a spotlight instead of a shield. He was too visible. Every rustle of paper, every cough, every shifting body in his periphery sent another jolt through him.

People kept glancing at him.

He didn’t like it.

Some of them whispered. He couldn’t hear what they said, but their eyes were sharp, curious, and pitying all at once. He pressed his knees together, curled inward like he could make himself smaller, disappear into the desk. His pen slipped in his sweaty hand.

He didn’t know how he was going to survive the next hour, let alone the rest of the day.

His finger ached. He wasn't too hung up on the pain, but the meaning behind it was what caught him.

If only he'd kept his mouth shut.

Lunch was loud. Chaotic. Normal. Or... well, it was until the Shadow Knights sat with him.

Zenix ranted about his latest video game rank drop like it was the end of the world. Gene rolled his eyes. Sasha picked the pickles off her sandwich and stacked them on Zenix’s tray. Zane sat at the end.

He tried to eat. Really, he did.

But every bite turned to paste in his mouth. So he just moved the food around on his tray and waited for the bell.

Nothing felt right. They shouldn't be with him, they shouldn't be friendly with him. He should've been wearing a shirt that reeked of bleach and sitting alone. Not surrounded by those three while his shirt smelled like fresh detergent.

He didn't know what to do.

They left the cafeteria in a slow trickle. Zane hung back to toss his tray. He didn’t realize Sasha had waited until she fell into step beside him.

Zane stiffened.

"You flinch every time someone moves too quick" She said, like it was just a fact. Not a question. Not an accusation.

He blinked. "What?"

"You don’t have to say anything" Sasha added, not looking at him.

His mouth went dry despite his hands beginning to shake.

"I’m not judging" She continued. "I just– Gene’s not going to ask questions if you don't offer. But I don’t do pretending and if something’s wrong at home or something you can crash with us while you–"

"There’s nothing wrong" Zane snapped, sharper than intended. "Just 'cause you know how to stare at people and like to connect dots that aren’t even–"

Sasha paused, making him stop too. "I think you’re not nearly as good at hiding stuff as you think"

Zane’s voice rose. "You don’t know me. You don’t know anything about my– about how–"

He bit the words off. Too late.

Silence stretched between them. Zane’s hands had curled into fists before he realized it. His finger throbbed at the attempt in movement. His chest felt too tight. Too hollow. Like if he opened his mouth again, something real would slip out.

Sasha looked at him for a long second.

"…Okay" She said finally. "Forget it"

And just like that, she turned and walked off, steady like none of it mattered.

But it did.

And Zane couldn't breathe right.

He skipped his next class; just left. No one stopped him.

He spent the next hour moving between empty stairwells and quiet corridors, trying to breathe through the weight in his chest.

He’d messed up. Snapped at her. She knew. She knew. His mouth tasted like metal. His palms wouldn’t stop sweating.

What if she told Gene?

What if Gene didn’t want him around anymore?

He holed up in the bathroom when the bell rang, heart hammering the whole time.

The hallway was mostly empty by the time he stepped out. He kept his eyes on the floor, hands in his pockets, hoping to slide out before anyone noticed.

He could walk home, he could take the detour through the park so it'd look like he was in school all day. Like he wasn't skipping like a mistake, like a weak link.

“You lookin’ for round two?”

Zane froze.

Balto leaned against the wall by the stairwell, a fresh bruise across his jaw and a look that promised nothing good.

No one else was around.

Zane didn’t move. Couldn't.

He was such a mistake.

Chapter Text

He didn’t know why he came this way.

He should’ve gone to class. Should’ve stayed in the crowd. Should’ve slipped out after the rush.

But Zane was tired. The kind of tired that pooled behind his eyes and made everything ache. The kind of tired that convinced him maybe, just maybe, it was okay to cut through the back stairwell.

And that meant it was his fault that he didn’t hear Balto until it was too late.

“You lookin’ for round two?”

Zane froze.

Balto stood there like he’d been waiting there all day. His bruised jaw was swollen and ugly, the kind of wound that demanded repayment. And his eyes, always mean, were now brimming with something darker. Quieter. Controlled.

Malice.

"Didn’t think you had it in you" Balto said, stepping forward. Zane backed up before he realized he could. "Didn’t think you’d let someone fight your battles for you. But I guess that makes sense. You don’t even talk. You let other people speak for you, too?"

Zane opened his mouth. No words came out.

Balto tilted his head. "Gene, right?” He said it like a curse. "He came to save the princess"

He smiled, teeth flashing like a threat. Zane swallowed a shaking breath.

"That must’ve felt good. Having someone step in. Must’ve felt like you mattered"

Zane couldn’t answer. His feet wouldn’t move. He should’ve run. Should’ve known better than to think he could avoid this forever.

But he’d gotten too comfortable. Too safe. He’d let himself think maybe, maybe he could exist outside of survival mode. That he could be normal.

How stupid. How selfish.

This was just the world righting itself.

Balto wasn’t the problem. He was.

All he ever did was drag people down. Weigh them. Hurt them. It was better this way, if he took it, no one else had to.

"But we both know you're not worth it" Balto said. "You're no princess"

And then he punched him.

Zane stumbled back with a choked breath. Pain exploded behind his eye. He tried to duck, to cover his head, but Balto grabbed his collar and slammed him back, rattling the lockers.

The second hit was a worse.

His head snapped to the side, cheek catching the edge of a locker. The pain was bright and sharp, but it was the noise that stayed with him: metal ringing like a bell, echoing in his skull.

Balto grabbed his collar and slammed him back again.

"Think you're better than me now, freak? You think Gene's gonna treat you any better? You think he's not gonna use you? You think you're special?"

Zane didn’t answer. Couldn’t.

The hits came faster then. A knee to the stomach. An elbow to the ribs. Each one calculated, precise. People said Balto was all bark, but Zane had plenty to prove otherwise.

Balto was just selective.

Zane tried to curl inward. He bit his tongue to keep from crying out. His head spun. His shoulder slammed into the wall.

He heard himself whimper and hated it. Hated himself for being so weak.

"You’re nothing. Just some pity project. You don’t belong with them"

Zane didn’t respond. Couldn’t. His vision swam.

"You think Gene’s gonna protect a slut like you forever?" Another blow to the ribs. Something cracked.

Zane wheezed, folding forward. Balto shoved him down. He hit the floor hard.

His cheek burned. His knees scraped against the tile. His hands trembled. He tried to crawl, but a foot slammed down on his ankle, pinning him.

"You ruined everything" Balto snarled. "I had it made but you just had to mess it up. Couldn't just stay invisible. You're nothing"

He kicked him. Hard. Zane curled in tighter.

He should’ve just stayed home. Should’ve never said anything. Never let Gene get involved. He was dragging everyone down. Making everything worse.

The beatings before this hurt less. At least those came without the knowledge of kindness,without the hope that he'd be saved.

Balto crouched beside him, grabbing his collar to yank him up just enough to speak into his face. "You should be grateful. Gene will regret it soon enough and you'll come crawling back to me. But you know that. You're not stupid, aren't you? You know I'm good to you, you know you like it"

Zane tried to say he was sorry. Tried to speak. Tried to make it stop. But his lips were split and every breath hurt.

He didn’t cry. He wanted to.

But crying would’ve made it real.

Instead, he just sat there. Shaking.

He could still hear Balto’s voice echoing in his head. Not the words, those blurred together, but the tone. Cold. Bored. Like Zane wasn’t even worth being angry at anymore.

That stung worse than the fists.

And still…

He didn’t hate Balto.

Not really.

He hated himself more.

He shouldn’t have fought back. Should’ve stayed quiet. Should’ve known better. Gene had to step in because of him.

Why did he think he deserved kindness? Why did he ever think someone like Gene wouldn’t get tired of dragging dead weight?

Eventually, Balto stood. His breathing was heavy.

Zane stayed on the floor.

Balto stared down at him for a long second, then spit beside him. "You'll come crawling back soon enough, whore. You won't know what to do without me"

Then he left.

The air was quiet again.

Zane didn’t move.

His heart thudded somewhere far away. His ribs ached with every breath. His head rang.

He rolled onto his side, shakily pushing himself up against the wall. His hands left bloody smears on the floor, his nose and lips stained with the metallic liquid.

He swallowed, throat thick.

This was his fault.

He slid down again, curling against the wall, hands over his head like a cage.

He messed everything up.

He wasn’t even sure he was thinking it. It felt more like remembering.

You never learn, do you?

The voice wasn’t Balto’s. It wasn’t even recent.

He choked on a breath, not sobbing, but unraveling. His body shook, not from fear, but from sheer exhaustion.

Zane stayed like that until the next bell rang.

No one came looking.