BAY #9
"Give it back! I need that!" Alex shouts helplessly, jumping again and bumping into Vin. Rob stands nearby, laughing out loud.
"Sneeze for us, just once, and I’ll give it back!"
"Hey!" I shout before I even think about it. "Give it back right now or I’ll kick your ass!"
Everything goes silent, and all eyes turn toward me.
Vin tilts his head.
"Well, well, look who we have here. Pretty Face, the one every omega’s been sighing over. Yesterday Zion and Kaen, and now you’ve already got yourself a new boyfriend, huh? The Sneezy one? Seriously?"
I press my lips together and step closer until our chests almost touch.
I don’t feel an ounce of fear. Literally zero.
There are two of them and only one of me, but I couldn’t care less.
In fact, I feel a thrill of anticipation at the thought of a fight, a chance to burn off all that poisonous adrenaline that’s been seeping through my pores with nowhere to go.
I want to hit someone. I need to. Just give me an excuse.
"Say that again," I growl.
"What? Pretty Face? Or Sneezy?"
I slam my forehead into his nose.
"Your time to sneeze!"
I’ve never had any formal training, but with seven brothers, I know a thing or two about fights.
Apparently, so does he, because he lunges at me right away, growling like a typical adolescent alpha, and it sounds half funny, half furious.
We grapple, slamming each other against the walls and lockers, shoving and throwing punches, though it becomes almost painfully obvious he is just a ragdoll in my grasp and I push him with ease all around the locker room.
Though I have to admit, I’m surprised at how easily I’m throwing him, especially since Vin isn’t a weakling. He’s got solid, thick bones, promising he’ll develop a robust build, but I’m far more determined.
Alex crouches by the opposite wall, while Rob just laughs like he’s watching a circus act.
At one point, I manage to get a solid swing in, probably a country-style punch, and it lands squarely on Vin’s jaw, and he crashes to the floor.
"Hey!" Rob snaps, stepping toward me. I raise my fists into a loose, rough guard. A growl escapes me. All those fights with Winter, Storm, and Rain taught me one thing, never assume it’s over until every opponent is down.
"Try it, bastard, and you’ll get the same!"
Rob’s face twists.
"You’ll regret this, Pretty Face," Vin snarls, getting up, wobbling, and wiping the blood from his split lip, but I’m not done.
I turn and punch him again, harder this time, enough to make blood spill from his mouth and nose.
"Call me Pretty Face one more time. I dare you."
Rob rushes over to help his cousin stand. "You just made a huge mistake," he snaps, glaring at me before dragging Vin away.
I slowly turn to Alex, who’s still crouched under the wall, clutching his inhaler in his fingers. I walk over, and for a brief moment our eyes meet.
My goodness, I feel so much better now.
I reach out a hand. Alex looks at it.
There’s a moment of silence before he finally takes it, and when his fingers touch mine, a strange, blissful shiver runs through me, like sinking into warm water on a freezing day.
I pull him up, but I notice he’s leaning toward me, he’s about to hug me, it seems, so I step back quickly. No. No physical contact. Not with me.
"Thank you, Bay, th-thank you so much," Alex whispers, looking up at me with those incredibly big eyes. "So-sorry, I didn’t mean for you to get in trouble."
I shrug. "Don’t sweat it. Vin had it coming."
Alex looks like he wants to say more, but I can already feel that wave of gratitude and warmth directed at me, and it makes me uneasy.
Frowning, I glance aside and mutter, "I gotta go. Jordan’s waiting for me."
Before he can respond, I turn and walk away.
I feel ridiculously silly, not because I got involved, but because his gratitude feels almost tangible, like a bright, warm ball of energy following me through the air, and I just don’t belong in that kind of light. I can’t take it in.
Still, that doesn’t stop me this evening from writing a few more lines in my special pink diary, the one where I record only things about Alex. I spend a little time sketching him some more.
Certainly, I’m not a great artist, but the more I pour into it, the better it turns out. I smile faintly at the small face forming under my pencil, or at least I try to. All the rest hurts, everything around me feels like thick, dark oil I’m slowly sinking into.
◆◆◆
The next day, when I walk into class, I’m low-key expecting to be called to the principal’s office or pulled aside by the school counselor. But nothing like that happens. Rob is in his usual seat; Vin is absent. And Rob doesn't look my way. Interesting.
But Alex does. His eyes light up with warmth and joy when he sees me.
Wrong, wrong, it’s all wrong, something inside my head tolls like a grim church bell.
When I sit down, Alex leans over and places something on my desk. A flower?
Yeah, a real one, but a beautiful one, bayhops, a wild vine with soft pink blossoms. They used to grow near our garden; my dad really liked them.
I stare at it for a moment. It’s the kind of gesture I might’ve once found silly or overly romantic, but for some reason, I pick up the flower and study it for a bit.
Then I slip it between the pages of my notebook, fully aware that Alex is watching me.
Maybe I’ll press it later. Who knows.
When I look up, Alex gives me another warm smile. His pink, soft lips curve in that sweet, gentle way that makes my chest ache. I look away.
But when he scribbles a note that says, "Lunch?" I agree. After all, I can have a friend, can’t I?
For the next few days, nothing seems to happen, either at home or at school. Vin finally appears, his nose the color of a plum, but he avoids me.
In the meantime, my house feels strangely quiet; my family barely talks. Everyone’s probably still in shock, each of us dealing with it in our own way.
To keep my mind busy, I lock myself in my room and record a new song. I focus on it completely so I won’t spiral into darker thoughts, and it helps a lot. When I play, there’s nothing else, just the music. I let it surround me, fill the emptiness inside, soothe my anger and my pain.
A few hours later, I upload a video of myself playing three instruments and singing my song about bad decisions. The first comment I get is from someone with the username TinyGem.
"Wow, really beautiful song. You’re very talented, Bay."
For some reason, I just know it’s Alex. I leave a heart under his comment and reply politely,
"Thank you so much!"
The next day at school, the first thing I do when I see him is say,
"TinyGem? It fits."
Alex laughs, bright and cheerful.
"Ah… your notification popped up. I played your song on full volume for like an hour until my dad told me to stop. It’s really amazing! Can I be your first fan?"
For some reason, my cheeks burn.
"I don’t know if I deserve to have a fan. I’m just getting started."
"Everybody starts somewhere! You know you need social media to promote yourself, right?"
I stare at him, a little helpless.
"I don’t think I have the kind of personality to make posts or chat with people online…"
Alex grins wide.
"No problem! I’ve got experience. I run a chess fan group, we’ve got our own page, social media, even a discussion channel. I know how this stuff works. I can help you if you want. I could suggest ideas for posts," he says with an encouraging smile.
I look at his bright, kind face and feel almost ashamed.
How could I deserve his attention, his kindness, his help?
Alex can’t know. He can never know the truth.
We can only be friends.
◆◆◆
By the end of my first week at school, everyone in class has gotten used to me always hanging out with Alex.
Zion and Kaen have backed off. Sometimes they exchange a few words with me, but mostly they keep their distance.
It definitely hasn’t made anyone more friendly toward Alex.
People look at him with irritation and dislike.
The only one who sometimes interacts with us is that chubby beta, Dereck, who’s in the band with me, so maybe he feels like he should at least be friendly.
Vin and Rob seem to ignore me completely, but soon I’m going to find out that it’s just not the case.
On Friday afternoon, my classes end around the same time as Alex’s.
We walk down to the locker room together, and frankly, I don’t pay much attention to what’s happening around us.
At one point, I think I see something dark flash through the air, like a shadow, but there are so many windows, corners, and lights in the school that weird shadows are nothing unusual.
We’re too excited anyway, talking about how my song video just hit two thousand views, which is pretty good for only the fourth video I’ve ever uploaded.
Alex has already set up several profiles for me on all the popular social media platforms. He even posted some pictures he took of me with my guitar and cello. They actually turned out pretty well, even though I look gloomy in every single one.
I’m really grateful to him for it. I’ve never had much confidence in that kind of stuff, but if I ever want a music career, I probably need to start getting used to it.
We talk about what I should record next. I have a few original songs and lyrics, but Alex thinks I should do a cover of one of the current hits.
Probably because when he read my lyrics, his face went kind of blank, since the level of darkness and depression in them could crush anyone.
He insists on a cover of a popular love song that’s everywhere right now. Covers of trending tracks always get more clicks and are even suggested by the algorithm, "It’s a good direction to build a following," he says seriously.
I glance at him with admiration. Alex might be small and fragile-looking, but he’s wise beyond his years and knows a ton about different things. I really enjoy talking to him.