WALLS AROUND ME.....
1102 Words
HIS POV. I didn’t mean to be rude.
Okay—maybe I did.
People annoyed me easily. Too easily. Especially people who acted like the hallway belonged to them. I was already late, already irritated, already done with the day—and then there she was, fighting with her locker like it had personally offended her.
I told myself to walk past.
I didn’t.
When she turned around and looked at me, eyes sharp and unafraid, something shifted. Most girls apologized. Moved. Shrunk back.
She didn’t.
“I’ll move when I’m ready.”
I almost smiled.
Almost.
Instead, I scoffed and walked away. It was easier than staying. Easier than explaining why my chest felt tight for no reason at all.
I didn’t expect to see her again so soon.
But there she was—in my class.
Front row. Trying too hard to ignore me.
And when the teacher pointed her to the seat beside me, I knew the universe was messing with me.
She sat stiffly, like I carried some kind of disease. Her perfume—light, unfamiliar—drifted my way, and I hated that I noticed.
I noticed everything.
The way she tapped her pen when she was annoyed.
The way her jaw tightened when she tried not to react.
The way she acted like she didn’t care, but cared just enough.
“You like pushing buttons.”
I wasn’t talking about the pen.
She met my stare like she wasn’t scared of me at all. That was new. Interesting.
Dangerous.
When the bell rang, I expected her to rush off like everyone else. Instead, she paused when I asked her name.
She told me.
Just once.
Like she trusted I’d remember.
And I did.
I leaned back in my chair as she walked away, watching her disappear into the crowd. I didn’t chase her. Didn’t call her back.
That wasn’t my style.
But something told me this wasn’t over.
Not even close.
Because girls like her didn’t just walk into your life.
They stayed.
And somehow, I had a feeling she was going to be trouble in all the ways I never planned for
But something about her felt different.
Unplanned.
Unwanted.
Dangerous.
I told myself she was just another girl. Another distraction. Another problem I didn’t need.
Still… when I heard her laugh somewhere down the hallway later that day, my chest tightened in a way I didn’t understand.
And that was when it hit me.
She was chasing trouble..
His house was nothing like school. No smirks, no whispers, no games. Just walls that had seen too much, a quiet that sometimes felt heavy, and routines that kept him grounded.
He pushed open the gate and slipped inside, shoes off, bag down. The living room smelled faintly of detergent and something warm—like food that had been cooking all day, waiting for someone to care. He didn’t need anyone to see him here. Here, he could just… be.
“Home early,” his mother said from the kitchen. She didn’t need to see him to know; she always knew.
“Yeah,” he replied shortly, washing his hands before she could tell him to. He moved quietly, like he’d learned early that silence kept things easier.
Dinner was a routine, not a ritual. Plates clinked, water poured, questions asked and answered in minimal words. He cleared his plate, stacked dishes carefully, wiped the counters without a reminder. It was expected. It was normal. And yet, every movement felt like practice for some invisible test that never ended.
When he finished, he slipped out to the courtyard behind the house, the one place he could breathe freely. That’s when Mason appeared, bounding in like he owned the space.
“You actually made it home without disappearing into the night?” Mason teased, dropping his bag on the floor.
He smirked briefly, then went quiet. Mason had been around long enough to know how to read him. To know when to push and when to back off.
“Training again?” he asked, trying to keep the sarcasm light.
“Missed it,” Mason said with a shrug, leaning against the railing. “Homework?”
He shook his head. “All done.”
Silence stretched between them, the kind of comfortable silence that didn’t need to be filled. Mason studied him with a sharp gaze, the one that always cut through his walls.
“You know,” Mason said slowly, “people at school think you’re some kind of untouchable legend. But we both know the truth.”
He didn’t respond. Truth hurt sometimes. He had spent years building his mask—rude, careless, untouchable. Letting anyone see behind it was… dangerous.
“You’re not as cold as you let them think,” Mason continued, smirking. “Just… tired. Carrying too much.”
He finally looked at him, the first real look of the day. Mason didn’t judge. Didn’t laugh. Didn’t roll his eyes. Just… knew.
“You ever think about letting someone in?” Mason asked casually, leaning back on the steps.
He didn’t answer immediately. Of course he thought about it. He thought about it every day. But letting someone close was risky. Too risky. Pain was inevitable. And pain… he knew how to survive. Letting someone else in? That was new territory.
“You know,” Mason said, nudging him, “it’s okay to show cracks. Doesn’t mean you’re weak.”
“I’m not weak,” he muttered, though the words felt hollow even to him.
Mason grinned knowingly. “Sure. Keep telling yourself that.”
The rest of the evening was quiet but warm. Mason stayed a while, joking, teasing, sometimes silent, sometimes loud. They shared memories, frustrations, small victories. And for the first time that day, he felt… normal. Not the “trouble everyone fears,” not the boy everyone whispers about in hallways. Just… him.
When Mason left, the house returned to its usual calm. He checked on his mother one last time before heading to his room. Lights off, bed made, everything in its place. He sank onto the mattress, staring at the ceiling, letting the silence wash over him.
He was used to being alone. He had to be. But moments like today, with Mason by his side, reminded him that some connections were worth keeping—even if he didn’t fully understand why yet.
And as sleep edged closer, he felt a small, unfamiliar weight on his chest. Not pain. Not sorrow. Just… a hint of something softer, quieter, human.
Something he didn’t let anyone see.
- Writer
