It happened faster than either of them expected.
By evening, the rain had stopped, but the air was sharp and cold. The campus felt restless — too quiet in some corners, too loud in others. Eli could feel it in his gut: the kind of stillness that comes before something shatters.
Riven's dorm was dim when they returned after classes. He'd insisted on walking alone, but Eli didn't trust that. Something about the way Riven had been scanning the shadows all day told him trouble wasn't done yet.
And he was right.
They had barely reached the hallway when a voice sliced through the silence.
"Well, well. If it isn't Sunvale's golden boy… and his shadow."
Three figures stepped out from the corner — upperclassmen, older, broader, the kind of boys who thought fear was a weapon. Eli had seen them before, trailing Riven like predators, but never this close.
Riven froze. "Not tonight," he muttered.
The one in front smirked. "You think you get to choose?" He stepped closer, the hallway's flickering light catching on his knuckles. "You made us look stupid last time. We don't like being embarrassed."
Eli's pulse spiked. "Back off."
The boy's gaze snapped to him, amused. "And you're what, his bodyguard now? Cute."
Riven stepped forward, placing himself between Eli and the group. "This isn't your fight," he said over his shoulder.
"The hell it isn't," Eli shot back.
The smirk vanished from the leader's face. In one sharp motion, he shoved Riven back and swung for Eli. The blow didn't land — Riven caught the guy's wrist mid-swing, twisting hard. The crack of joint against bone echoed down the hall.
For a moment, no one moved.
Then chaos erupted.
The hallway became a blur of shouts, footsteps, and the dull thud of fists against walls. Eli wasn't a fighter, but adrenaline made him fast — ducking a hit, shoving one of them into the lockers. Riven was all precision and fury, each movement fueled by years of holding himself back.
But they were outnumbered.
The leader recovered, lunging at Riven from behind. Eli didn't think — he moved. His shoulder slammed into the guy's ribs, sending them both sprawling to the floor. Pain shot up Eli's arm, but he didn't stop.
"Run!" Riven barked.
"No!" Eli shouted back, breathless. "I said I'd stand with you. I'm not leaving!"
Something in those words — raw, desperate — seemed to ignite Riven. He surged forward, his voice low and lethal. "You picked the wrong night."
Within seconds, the upperclassmen were retreating, one limping, the other clutching his arm. They left with curses thrown over their shoulders, but their footsteps faded quickly into the stairwell.
The hallway fell silent again.
Eli was leaning against the lockers, panting. Riven's hand was still fisted at his side, knuckles split and red.
"You're insane," Riven said, his voice somewhere between anger and awe.
"Maybe," Eli admitted, wincing at the bruise forming on his jaw. "But you're stuck with me."
For a long moment, Riven just stared at him. Then, slowly, the tension in his shoulders eased — not completely, but enough for him to take a step closer.
"You could've gotten hurt," he said quietly.
"I did get hurt," Eli said, almost laughing. "But you're here. That's what matters."
And for the first time in what felt like forever, Riven didn't argue.