MINE TO BULLY

Ezra's POV Ezra woke up before his alarm rang, like a internal sensor alerted him to the morning. He remained stationary, glaring upwards, resolving not to repeat his routine. He intended to dress and depart normally without staring across the street at someone unaware of his presence. He broke his promise instantly. The curtains were still open from last night, his own fault, he never closed them all the way, and across the street, through the gap in the Ryland's blinds, Ezra could see straight into Jace's room. Jace stood near his dresser, pulling a shirt over his head casually. Damp dark hair clung to his head, broad shoulders resting above a defined jaw line. Ezra resented that familiarity, along with knowing those exact contours well enough to draw them from memory. Most of all, he resented remaining motionless in bed at seven in the morning while watching his long term tormentor prepare for school. Their houses faced each other permanently. Senator Monroe and Senator Ryland remained locked in a bitter political race for a Senate seat, their rivalry providing constant fodder for local news outlets. Ezra used to find the dynamic absurd, two middle aged politicians trading insults on television while their sons sat two rows apart in homeroom. The humor vanished during freshman year when Jace discovered how to use Ezra as a target, never running out of material. Across the street, Jace adjusted his clothes, ran a hand through his hair, and glanced toward the window, towards Ezra room. Ezra's heart hammered instantly. He dropped flat against his pillow, convinced his neighbor finally spotted him. He counted to twenty, his rapid pulse refusing to settle. Pathetic described the situation accurately. Three years of public embarrassment, yet every morning brought a desire for one quick glimpse before school forced them into their assigned roles as bully and target. Ezra never confided in anyone, not even Sophie or his mother. Certain secrets stayed hidden beneath the surface, holding everything together until they became permanent structure. "Ezra!" His mother's voice echoed up the staircase, cutting through the silence. "You are going to be late!" "Coming!" he shouted back, his voice cracking slightly. He glanced toward the neighboring house one final time before forcing himself up. He dressed rapidly in a plain shirt, avoiding anything form-fitting that might invite unwanted attention. Some mornings involved standing in front of the mirror, attempting to alter his appearance by holding his breath. Today he simply grabbed his bag and went downstairs, where his mother slid a piece of toast across the counter without looking away from her coffee cup. "Big day?" she inquired. "Standard routine." She gave him a skeptical expression, choosing not to press further. "Have a good one, sweetheart." Ezra took the food and headed out, checking the adjacent property automatically. The driveway was empty; Jace had already departed, likely riding with a teammate while laughing at something completely unrelated to Ezra. He told himself that detail did not matter. He told himself many false statements every morning. By the time Ezra reached Ashford Academy, his familiar internal ache had returned. He navigated first and second period without incident, but lunch always presented a challenge. The cafeteria operated on an unwritten hierarchy. Athletes dominated the center section, cheerleaders claimed seats near the windows for better light, and drama students gathered near the stage doors in a noisy group. Ezra had a table too. Nobody had ever offered it to him. It was simply the one everyone else abandon, I was minding my business when someone whispered loud enough so I can hear.. Did you see him in gym today?” “I swear his shirt looked like it was fighting for its life.” Ezra drove his utensil into a portion of rice he had no intention of consuming, remaining silent. Experience taught him that silence drained momentum faster than a reaction. Then the entrance doors swung open, shifting the room's dynamic instantly. Jace walked in like he owned the building, teammates following in a loose group while half the cafeteria turned to watch. He appeared fully composed now, no vulnerability visible in his expression. Ezra kept his gaze lowered, though it proved ineffective. "Look who it is." A shadow covered his tray. Ezra looked up into Jace's face, displaying a smug expression while three friends gathered behind him like an audience. "Ryland," Ezra said flatly. The boys behind Jace laughed instantly. "Aw, he knows your name," one remarked, prompting further amusement. Ezra looked away. Jace dropped into the chair across from him, tilting it back on two legs with crossed arms. "Eating alone again, Monroe?" "Brilliant observation." "It's kind of sad." "Then leave." The words sounded sharper than intended, causing a brief pause. Nobody spoke back to Jace. Surprise flickered across Jace's face before his usual expression returned. "There he is," Jace said, pointing at him. "The personality." "Hilarious." "I thought someone replaced you with a cardboard cutout." The table erupted. A few nearby students turned to watch, holding up phones. "How many lunches do you eat daily?" Jace tilted his head with fake curiosity. "Just asking for research." Ezra clenched his teeth. The repeated mockery landed like a physical blow every single time. He stared at his tray in silence, his appetite completely gone. "Are you done?" Ezra asked quietly. Jace blinked. "What?" "Are. You. Done." The cafeteria quieted down at his tone. Ezra stood up, grabbing his bag off the floor. "Everyone thinks you are funny," Ezra kept his voice steady despite his racing pulse. "I just don't." Silence followed for three full seconds. Then Logan laughed out loud. Damn "Monroe's got teeth." "Guess he finally grew a spine," another added. The room broke into laughter again, and Ezra should have walked away immediately. Instead, he made the mistake of looking directly at Jace one last time. Their eyes met. For a brief moment, an unreadable expression passed between them, vanishing before Ezra could process it. Jace leaned back, his expression turning sharp. "Careful, Monroe." He paused for effect. "I almost thought you were interesting." The reaction hit harder than before. Ezra turned and exited without another word, laughter trailing behind him until the double doors swung shut, cutting off the noise. His chest ached, not from the jokes he had learned to endure, but because tomorrow he would wake up and perform the exact same routine, looking out his window at someone who never returned the gaze. He remained completely in love with him, a truth that had become impossible to deny.