The slam of the door echoed through the condo.
Jett kicked his shoes off with a rough movement, the sound of his boots hitting the floor sharp in the quiet. He stalked past the darkened living room, heading straight for the kitchen. The street lights from the street outside filtered through the blinds, slicing across his face and the tiled floor in dull blue streaks.
He grabbed a glass from the counter, filled it halfway with water, and downed it in one go. His jaw clenched, temples pounding with leftover adrenaline and anger.
The night had gone straight to hell.
He'd gone there for one thing. Just one fucking milkshake. And somehow, he had to be there. That loud-mouthed brat with the pink sweater and the nerve to talk back like he wasn't one wrong word away from getting thrown through a wall.
"Fucking unreal." Jett muttered, tossing the glass into the sink.
He dropped into the chair by the kitchen island, the leather creaking under his weight. His hands rested on his knees, still wrapped from the fight. The tape was stiff with sweat and dried blood. He stared at them for a long moment, then exhaled hard and leaned back, shutting his eyes.
The phone on the table buzzed relentlessly, irritating him more than he already was.
'Who the fuck is that?" he muttered, reaching for it without looking.
He swiped and brought it to his ear. "Yeah?"
"Son."
Jett froze. His blood ran cold for a second. Then he checked the screen. The name flashing there made his stomach knot.
"Fuck." he whispered. Sitting up straighter, he pressed the phone back to his ear.
"That doesn't sound like you want to speak to me." came the calm, deliberate voice on the other end.
He sighed."Hello, Dad."
"Why haven't you been picking up my calls?"
Silence stretched. Jett's jaw tightened.
"Jett?"
"No reason." he muttered finally.
A quiet hum came from the other end. "So you just don't want to talk to me. Did your brother visit you?"
"Yes." Jett replied flatly.
"And did you two talk?"
"If by talk you mean him trying to convince me to do the things you want me to do, then yeah. We 'talked.' Our conversations always circle back to you anyway.
"Jett-"
"I know, I know," he cut in, voice rising. "You just want what's best for me, blah blah blah. I've heard the speech a hundred times."
"Don't talk to me like that." his father said quietly, tone even but laced with authority.
Jett rubbed a hand over his face. "How do you want me to talk to you then?"
"Jett, just come home." his father said after a beat. "Live a normal life."
"I am living a normal life."
"By being a street fighter?"
"Yes, and it's boxing, not street fighting."
"Jett!" His father's patience cracked for the first time. "You-" He stopped himself, took a breath. "At least try to be a legal boxer. Stop doing all this illegal nonsense."
"Would you let me be a legal boxer?" Jett shot back immediately.
There was silence on the line. Just the faint sound of his father's breathing.
"Yeah," Jett said bitterly, "I thought so."
"Look," his father began again, voice tight. "There are a lot of opportunities waiting for you at the company. You have talent, Jett-'
"I don't wanna work in the company!" Jett snapped. "Why can't you just get that through your head?"
His father's tone softened, dangerously calm. 'Your mother wouldn't have wanted-"
Jett slammed his hand on the table. "My mother is dead!"
The silence that followed was suffocating.
He swallowed hard, his voice rougher now. "She's dead, okay? Stop bringing her up every fucking time we talk."
There was a long pause.
"Alright, his father said finally, voice low. "Just....come home. Maybe for dinner this weekend."
Jett leaned back in the chair, head tilted toward the ceiling. "I'll think about it."
"Alright, son. Thank you."
He made a low sound in reply.
"I lo-'
The line went dead.
Jett tossed the phone onto the table, the thud echoing through the empty room.
"Fucking annoying." he muttered.
He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, dragging his hands down his face. His heart was still pounding, the anger boiling beneath the surface like a wound that refused to close.
He could still hear his father's voice, calm, reasonable, cold.
Still see his brother's disappointed face.
Still remember Jamie's defiant glare across the café.
He'd thought fighting was the only thing that kept him sane.
But right now, everything felt like a losing round.
✧
The next day, Jett found himself at his sister's school's parking lot. He was in his car, waiting for her to finish school so he could take her shopping like he promised.
His eyes went to the previous message, the phone screen dimmed just as Jett sighed.
"Don't forget the shopping date you promised me 💕" -Layla.
He rubbed the bridge of his nose, groaning under his breath. Yeah, he remembered. He'd made that promise last month when she won her debate competition, told her he'd take her out anywhere she wanted. And, of course, she never forgot things like that.
Which was why he was sitting here now, in his car at her school's parking lot, waiting for her to finish up. The sun was low, the light fading, painting the windows a pale orange. Jett drummed his fingers against the steering wheel, eyes flicking toward the school entrance every few seconds.
He had better things to do tonight. Training. A quick run. Maybe a drink. But he couldn't say no to Layla. Not when she smiled at him the way their mother used to.
He checked the time, ten minutes left before her class ended.
With a quiet sigh, he unlocked his phone and typed a message.
> I'm outside. Come out as soon as you're done.- Jett
He tossed the phone onto the passenger seat and leaned back, eyes half-lidded. Everything felt peaceful.
Until a bright, cream-colored car rolled up and parked right beside him.
Jett's eyes opened, narrowing immediately. He squinted at the paint job and grimaced. "Who the fuck paints a car that color." he muttered, curling his lips in distaste. It was blinding. Like a moving vanilla cupcake.
The door opened, and when the driver stepped out, Jett almost laughed.
Of course.
The universe really had it out for him.
It was the kid from the café. Jamie, James, Jamal, whatever the fuck his name was.
Jett groaned, slumping further into his seat.
He looked exactly like he had crawled out of a pastel commercial. Soft blue jeans, a cream shirt that matched the damn car, and white sneakers clean enough to make him suspicious. His hair was a little tousled, his expression calm, but he moved with that same light, irritating bounce Jett remembered.
Jett's gaze dragged over him from head to toe, and he couldn't help the small, exasperated scoff that escaped. His closet must be a fucking rainbow.
Jamie leaned against the car, pulling out his phone. He was directly in Jett's line of sight, but the tinted windows worked in Jett's favor. He could stare all he wanted. Not that he was staring, he was just observing.
"Hello?" Jamie's voice carried faintly through the glass.
Jett's attention sharpened obliviously.
"When are you coming out?" Jamie continued, his tone impatient. "Be fast, Jace. I have somewhere to be."
So he was waiting for his brother. Again. It wasn't a surprise that his sister and that boy's brother goes to the same school.
He watched Jamie hang up, sighed, and started pulling a duffel bag out from the backseat, placing it on the car's trunk. He glanced around, tapping his fingers on the metal while he waited.
A few minutes later, Jace jogged into view, still in uniform, hair damp with sweat, probably straight from practice.
"Hey, Jamie."
Jamie, Jett corrected internally this time. Not James. Not Jamal. Jamie.
Jamie's face immediately twisted into a scowl. "What?"
Jace grinned, unbothered. "What do you mean what? I told you, I was in class."
Jamie huffed. "You say that like it's a valid excuse."
"Chill, Sugar." Jace teased.
"Don't call me that!" Jamie snapped, voice rising an octave.
"Oh, you love it." Jace said with a chuckle, reaching for the duffel bag.
Jamie slammed it against his chest instead. "This will be the last time I'll ever do this for you."
"Yeah, yeah. Sorry. I'll make sure not to forget next time."
"You've probably said that line fifty times now." Jamie muttered, crossing his arms.
Jace just smiled, slinging the duffel bag over his shoulder. "Yeah, well, repetition makes it true."
Jamie rolled his eyes. "Hilarious. Are you going to be practicing late again today?"
"Yeah." Jace said. "And I told you to stop waiting for me at that café. Go home. You don't have to sit around for hours."
"But I can't not wait." Jamie said, frowning. "I'd be worried. What if something happened to you? I wouldn't be there to protect you."
"Yeah, no shit." Jace snorted.
Jamie's eyes narrowed. "Why are you laughing? What's so funny?"
"Nothing." Jace said between chuckles. "Just imagining you 'protecting' me. You'd probably blind the bad guys with your cuteness."
Jamie gasped. "Are you mocking me right now?"
"Of course not, Sugar. You're just too cute, that's all. If something happened, I'd be the one protecting you."
Jamie looked at him as if he'd just spoken in tongues. "That's not how it works. I'm older than you."
"Yeah...." Jace trailed off, looking him up and down with an amused grin.
Jamie's eyes widened as realization hit. "Oh, so that's it? Because you're taller than me?"
"Don't be so defensive, Sugar."
"DON'T CALL ME SUGAR!" Jamie snapped again, making a few students turn their heads.
Jace raised both hands in surrender, laughter dancing in his eyes. "Alright, alright. I'm done."
Jamie took a step closer, pointing a finger at him. "Look, I'm an adult. You're just sixteen. You don't know as much as I do. All you can do is square up like some action movie extra, and half the time you'll probably end up with a broken nose. Just;stay out of trouble, okay? Let adults handle things."
"Like how you 'handled' that guy at the café?" Jace teased, leaning against the car.
"Yes, exactly like that." Jamie said, with all the confidence in the world.
"Uh-huh." Jace raised a brow. "Are we forgetting the part where I came in between you two before things got ugly?"
Jamie scoffed, waving a hand. "You were just seeing things. We were having a civil conversation before you butted in."
"It didn't look civil." Jace said flatly.
"I don't even know why I'm arguing with you." Jamie ran a hand through his hair and opened the car door. "Just don't be late. I'll be at the café."
Jace's lips twitched. "Sure thing, Sugar."
"JACE!"
The younger boy darted backward, laughing as Jamie's voice echoed across the parking lot.
From inside his car, Jett sat still, watching the whole thing unfold with an expression somewhere between disbelief and irritation.
This was his life now? Getting front-row seats to the pastel menace's daily drama?
He dragged a hand down his face, muttering to himself. "This fucking day just keeps getting better."
Outside, Jamie got in his car and started the engine, his expression still scrunched in irritation, completely unaware of the sharp, dark eyes watching him from next door.
Jett leaned back in his seat, a reluctant smirk tugging at his lips before he quickly wiped it away.
"Jamie." he muttered under his breath, testing the name like he wasn't supposed to like how it sounded.
He shook his head, scoffing softly. "Annoying little shit."