"Tsk," Vince muttered, stepping out of the school building. He had just spent thirty minutes scrubbing the bathroom floor—Mr. Nguyen's punishment for skipping class yet again. It wasn't the worst thing that had happened to him, but this time it stung.
He'd missed his chance to walk Vanessa home.
With a frustrated sigh, he shoved his hands into his pockets and headed toward the bus stop.
But when he got there, he froze.
Vanessa was already there, sitting on the bench, casually sipping from a bottle of banana milk—his favorite.
His eyes narrowed slightly.
Did she... wait for me?
"Hey. I thought you left," he said, walking up to her.
Without looking at him, she replied calmly,
"The bus is late."
Vince sat down beside her, eyeing her sideways.
"Really."
He knew better. The buses came every five minutes. Always had. Always did.
She kept her gaze forward, sipping quietly.
He smirked to himself.
She waited.
She wasn't going to admit it. But she waited.
Back home, Vanessa sat on the roof balcony—her personal escape. Whenever the noise of home got too loud or her thoughts too tangled, this was where she came. From up here, the streets below looked quiet, the world distant. Safe.
She took a sip from her drink and let the breeze brush against her skin. The late afternoon sun cast a golden hue over the rooftops.
Then she heard it—a familiar hum cutting through the calm.
A motorcycle pulled up to the gate below. She didn't even have to see the rider to know who it was. She knew that bike. She knew the sound. Her expression hardened.
"Darian," she muttered under her breath. "What the hell are you doing here?"
The rider took off his helmet and looked up. Their eyes met. He grinned like he had every right to be there.
"Vanessa! Let's go for a ride!" he called out.
She stood up, leaning on the railing.
"No!" she shouted back without hesitation.
"Seriously? You're gonna play hard now?" he called again, half-laughing, like it was all a game to him.
"I told you—don't come near my house again. Leave!" she snapped, louder this time, her voice sharp with anger.
Then the front gate creaked open.
"Wait... Darian?" came a voice from below.
It was Jasmine, Vanessa's younger sister, just getting home from school, still in uniform and holding her bag loosely at her side.
Darian turned, his tone instantly softening.
"Jasmine. It's been a while."
She smiled and rushed toward him, wrapping her arms around him like she was hugging an older brother she hadn't seen in years.
Vanessa stared from the rooftop, jaw clenched. Of course Jasmine still adored him.
She turned away from the scene, and went to her phone. Darian had always been good at playing different versions of himself for different people.
Vanessa knew it the second Jasmine smiled at him—Darian would get inside. Jasmine always had a soft spot for him, saw him like family. And just like that, the front door opened.
Minutes later, footsteps sounded on the stairs to the roof.
Vanessa didn't bother looking up from her phone as Darian stepped into view.
"So you're just gonna ignore me?" he said, standing a few feet away.
She kept scrolling.
"Did something just make a noise?"
"Come on, are you really still mad about that?" he asked, a note of frustration in his voice.
"Why wouldn't I be?" she snapped, finally looking at him. Her eyes were cold.
"You knew I didn't like her like that, Vanessa," he argued.
She stood up slowly.
"That's your excuse? You didn't just hurt her, Darian."
He threw his hands up.
"If you hadn't rejected me so many damn times, none of this would've happened!"
Her voice shot up.
"What did you just say?"
"Was I not good enough for you? Is that it?" he asked, voice cracking with a mix of bitterness and desperation.
Vanessa stared at him in disbelief.
"You were fine—until you stopped being the person I trusted. You started doing everything wrong the moment you didn't get what you wanted."
"So what? Should I beg for your forgiveness now, Vanessa?" he snapped.
She took a breath, her voice firm.
"No. I don't want apologies. I want space. And I want you to stay away—from me and the people I care about."
He scoffed, stepping back.
"You know that's impossible."
Her eyes narrowed.
"Then make it possible."
They stared at each other for a long second—neither one backing down.
"Why are you like this, Darian?" Vanessa shouted, storming toward the stairs.
But before she could leave, he grabbed her wrist.
"Let go of me!" she snapped, trying to yank her arm back.
Instead of listening, Darian forced a motorcycle helmet over her head.
"What the hell are you doing?!" she yelled, voice muffled through the helmet.
He didn't answer. He just started pulling her, dragging her down the stairs and toward the street.
"Darian—stop! Let go!" she struggled against his grip, digging her heels into the ground.
He didn't even look at her. "Get on," he ordered, nodding toward his motorcycle.
"No!" she shouted, fury in her voice.
He turned to her, his face hardening.
"If you don't, I'll make it hell for you at school. You know I can."
She froze.
"This is exactly why I hate you!" she yelled. "You never accept no—you just try to break things when they don't go your way!"
His tone dropped, colder now.
"Isn't that what you're afraid of? Losing your peace? Your little quiet life? You know I can ruin it. Like before. So get on."
Vanessa's heart pounded. She stared at him, fists clenched, breath shaking. She didn't want to give in—not to him, not to this—but she also knew what he was capable of when he felt cornered.
Her jaw tightened.
And against everything in her, she climbed onto the bike.