Chapter Seven: The Blow Out
1480 Words
The rest of the day dragged. Akari avoided Aris entirely, choosing empty desks in classes they usually shared. Aris tried to focus, but every time she caught her sister’s profile in her peripheral vision, guilt chewed deeper. Gabe shadowed them between classes, eyes locked on Aris, but every time he got close, Tobe was there—steady, unyielding, his presence a wall Gabe couldn’t scale.
By the final bell, the tension was unbearable.
Akari fled the building without waiting for anyone. Aris lingered by her locker, staring at the swirl of notes and textbooks like they held the answer to everything. Gabe hovered down the hall, torn between approaching her and retreating. Mimi and Axel exchanged another look, both knowing this wasn’t ending quietly.
Tobe leaned against the lockers beside Aris, arms crossed. Calm. Protective. A silent warning to Gabe.
And Gabe—his hands curled into fists, jaw tight, pulse racing—realized he wasn’t just losing control. He had already lost it.
The final bell rang like a warning before a storm. Students spilled out the gates in waves, laughter and chatter filling the air. But not everyone was smiling.
Near the iron gates, Aris leaned against the low brick wall, bag slung over her shoulder, hood tugged low. Tobe and his crew—Axel, Mimi, and a few boys from the dojo—kept close. They didn’t hover, but their formation was deliberate: a warning.
Across the courtyard, Gabe stood rigid, jaw tight, eyes locked on Aris like she was the only person alive. He’d waited all day—for a chance to explain, to apologize, to win her back. But every time he tried to approach, Tobe cut him off, shielding her like Gabe was nothing but a threat.
And maybe he was.
The crowd thickened, noise rising. Then Gabe snapped.
“Aris!” His voice cut across the courtyard, sharp and desperate. Heads turned. The chatter died.
Aris froze. Slowly, she lifted her gaze. The faint bruise still lingered on her arm beneath her sleeve.
Tobe stepped forward. “Not here, Knight.”
Gabe ignored him. “Aris, just—listen! I didn’t mean—”
“Didn’t mean?” Aris shoved off the wall, striding into the open. Her voice carried like a blade. “You left a mark on me, Gabe. You think I’m just going to forget that?”
The crowd hushed, leaning in.
Gabe’s hands shot up, palms out. “I lost control, okay? I never wanted to hurt you.”
Aris’s laugh was sharp, bitter. “But you did.” She dropped her bag, fists curling. “And I’m not letting you think that’s okay.”
Gasps erupted.
Before Tobe could stop her, Aris’s fist cracked against Gabe’s jaw. He stumbled, stunned more by the audacity than the pain. She didn’t hesitate—kicked him hard in the stomach, sending him to the ground. Grabbing his collar, she raised her fist for another strike.
Phones shot up. Shouts filled the courtyard.
Tobe lunged, pulling Aris back by the shoulders. “Enough!” His voice thundered. “He’s not worth it.”
Aris’s chest heaved, fury in her eyes. “He left a bruise. I owed him one back. And he hurt my other half.”
The crowd roared, chanting her name.
And through the chaos, Akari appeared.
She froze at the sight: her twin standing fierce, Gabe reeling with a red mark across his jaw. Aris—her Aris—had thrown the first punch. For herself. For revenge. For what Akari never could.
Her throat burned. “Stop,” she whispered, but her plea drowned in the noise.
Gabe staggered up, pride stinging worse than the bruise. “Aris—”
“Save it.” She shook out her hand. “That’s for grabbing me like I was nothing. What right do you have?”
The crowd jeered, hungry for more.
Tobe planted himself between them, chest squared. “Back off, Knight. You’re done.”
Gabe’s eyes narrowed. “This isn’t your fight, Tobe. Stay out of it.”
“This became my fight the second you touched her.” Tobe’s voice rumbled. “You think anyone’s going to let you keep leaving marks? Not happening.”
The crowd murmured in agreement.
Mimi pushed forward, fury in her voice. “And what about Akari, huh? You strung her along for years, made her think she mattered. Then you confessed to her sister? Pathetic. Coward.”
Akari’s stomach knotted. Every word made her humiliation more public.
Gabe flinched, then snapped back, voice cracking. “I never asked Akari to follow me! I never told her to—”
“Don’t finish that,” Axel barked, shoving through the circle. “She believed in you when nobody else did. You don’t get to spit on that.”
The crowd roared louder, energy boiling.
Aris glanced at Akari—her twin stood pale and trembling. Guilt twisted in her gut.
Gabe’s face flushed. “What do you know? Yeah, Akari’s sweet. She’s loyal. But I don’t love her! I can’t! What does she have that Aris doesn’t?”
Gasps rippled. Akari flinched like he’d struck her.
Aris broke free of Tobe’s grip, slamming her fist into Gabe’s face again. “Shut up, Gabe.”
“No!” His voice cracked. He looked wild. “It’s you, Aris. It’s always been you. The way you fight, the way you never let me get away with crap—you make me feel alive! Akari never—”
“Enough!” Tobe barked, chest nearly colliding with Gabe’s. “Don’t you dare humiliate her to excuse your mess. One more word, and you won’t be walking home.”
The crowd whooped, phones flashing.
Mimi wrapped an arm around Akari, glaring. “You’re trash, Knight.”
Axel’s voice followed like a hammer. “And you’re weak. You lash out at the ones who cared. You’re no fighter—you’re a coward.”
Gabe’s fists trembled. But the crowd wasn’t with him anymore. They weren’t chanting his name. They were watching him unravel.
And in the center stood Akari, trembling, tears streaking her face. “Why…” Her whisper vanished in the noise. “Why did it have to be her?”
The silence that followed was heavier than the shouting.
Aris’s throat burned. She wanted to shield her sister, to tear Gabe apart for breaking her—but she couldn’t. Not here. Not now.
Instead, her voice cracked through the stillness. “Stay away from us, Gabe. Both of us. You’re done.”
The words landed like a blow. Gabe staggered, eyes darting to Akari—pleading, desperate—but she turned away. Mimi led her out, the crowd parting in silence. Akari ran all the way home leaving Mimi behind worried.
Aris stood trembling, heart heavy with guilt. She’d defended herself. She’d stood up. She’d evened the score.
But at what cost?
Akari shut the front door as quietly as she could. The laughter of her uncles in the kitchen carried faintly through the hallway, the smell of simmering stew wafting out—but she barely noticed. Her body moved on instinct, her boots coming off with clumsy kicks, her bag slipping from her shoulder to the floor.
Her room waited for her upstairs, familiar and suffocating all at once. She didn’t even bother with the lights. She collapsed face-first into her bed, pillow muffling the sob that tore out before she could stop it.
It replayed, over and over—the courtyard, the circle of staring faces, Mimi’s fury, Gabe’s words. I don’t love her. I never did.
She gripped the pillow tighter, nails biting into the fabric. Why did it have to be Aris?
Her twin’s laugh, her twin’s fire, her twin’s sharp tongue—things Akari had always loved, even envied a little. Now they cut like glass. Because it was all those things Gabe wanted.
Her chest ached so badly she thought she might choke.
Akari curled tighter, trying to make herself smaller, to shrink into the blanket and disappear. For so long, she’d carried this secret hope—this stupid, naive belief that if she just stayed, if she just loved him enough, one day he’d turn and see her.
But he never did. He never would.
And the worst part—the cruelest part—was that he’d seen Aris all along.
She pressed her face deeper into the pillow, muffling another broken sob. She wanted to scream. To rip the whole house apart. To run until her legs gave out.
But she stayed there, silent, the shadows closing in.
For the first time, she couldn’t even look at the wall where her sister’s bed stood. The empty space beside her felt unbearable.
Because Aris wasn’t just her sister anymore. She was the reminder of everything Akari couldn’t have.
- Writer
