Chapter 17. Ethan
I'm destroying my muscles at the gym. The more it hurts, the more I push. I only stop when my arms give out and I can't physically continue.
Griff scolded me this morning. I couldn't care less. He didn't give me any punishment, even though I was the one who had the idea to sneak out. It was my plan, my roof, my clock I didn't watch.
But it's not Griff's lecture that's eating me alive.
It's Liam. Stepping forward. Claiming responsibility.
Taking the punishment that should have been mine.
That image won't leave. I close my eyes, and it gets worse, his face, wet hair plastered to his forehead after that cold shower, still managing to smile at me like what he did was nothing.
After we fought. After everything I said to him.
No one has ever done anything like that for me. Not remotely.
"You don't ruin things," I'd told him. And then I reached out and brushed his hair back from his face. Like some lovesick teenager in a movie.
I dig my fingernails into my palms. I shouldn't have touched him. Shouldn't have sat on his bed. Shouldn't have wanted to kiss him so badly my entire body ached with it.
But I did. I still do.
And that's the problem. Because everything I've built here, three years of perfect behavior, three years of earning Griff's trust, three years of planning a future in corrections after my parents destroyed my life by sending me here, all of it depends on one thing: control.
Control is the only thing I have. It's the only thing that separates me from my parents, from the kids who cycle through here and end up back inside within a year, from the version of myself that almost didn't survive that first month.
I built a life out of discipline, out of rules, out of never letting anyone get close enough to compromise what I'm working toward.
And Liam is dismantling all of it.
I'm in a position of power over him. His leader. Responsible for his behavior, his progress, his safety. What kind of person uses that position to what? Kiss him? Date him? Let him take responsibility when it’s my fault? Whatever this is becoming?
Shadow's face flashes through my mind. His hand on Seth's cheek.
His thumb on Seth's lip. The way he leaned in, whispering, in that empty hallway.
The way Seth looked up at him with adoration and lust, from someone who couldn't say no even if he wanted to, because the power imbalance made consent meaningless.
I'm not Shadow. I keep telling myself that. But every time I touch Liam, every time I sit on his bed in the dark and brush his hair back and want to kiss him, and let him take the punishment that should be mine, how different is it, really? He's my mentee. I'm his leader.
Are you gonna kiss me, or just stare at my mouth?
My body flushes hot. I add more weight to the bar. He called me a chicken. Maybe I am. But at least chickens have survival instincts. I'm worse than a chicken. A chicken would have run.
This ends now. Before it can start.
I run a hand through my hair, mapping out a strategy.
Extra administrative duties. Different shifts.
Rearranged training partners so we're never paired.
Interactions kept professional, brief, limited to supervision.
No more late-night conversations. No more sitting on his bed.
No more touching him. No more letting him defend me.
I need to protect my future. And maybe, in a way, I'm protecting him too.
Liam doesn't need another person who'll eventually leave.
He doesn't need to think he has to defend me and land himself in trouble.
He doesn't need the complications of whatever this is with someone who has authority over him.
This is the right thing. I always do the right thing.
MMA in twenty minutes. I'll pair with Jack. Anything to keep distance.
I repeat it like a mantra, trying to drown out the memory of his voice. The softness in his eyes. The way he makes me forget every rule I've ever set for myself.
Take your time. I'm not going anywhere.
But I am going somewhere. And it has to be away from him.
By the time I reach the training hall, my face is a mask. The same expression I've perfected over three years. No one will see through it. Especially not Liam. It has to be better this way.
I'm early. Pulling on gloves, taping each finger. Anything to keep busy. Kids filter in. I track Liam's arrival without meaning to. He scans the room, catches sight of me, starts to smile, that stupid puppy smile.
Something in my chest cracks. I turn away before he can reach me.
"Hey, partner up with me today?" I ask Jack, who's stretching in the corner.
Jack raises an eyebrow. "Sure, but I'm still salty you left me for Liam."
"Thought we could make a comeback," I say. Forced smile. "Besides, I need someone who can actually challenge me."
"Wow. Burn. Poor kid."
Across the room, Liam hesitates. Confusion on his face as he realizes I've paired off without him. He stands there for a moment, uncertain. I force myself to look away.
Griff enters, clapping his hands. "Circle up." We form a ring. I position myself opposite Liam, using taller students as barriers. "Defensive techniques today. Partner drills first, then rotations."
The hall fills with noise, gloves on pads, feet on mats, Griff barking corrections. I throw myself into it with Jack, harder and faster than necessary. The burn helps. Almost.
Then I see who Liam's training with.
Reed.
Reed Hoffman. The director's nephew. Rules don't apply to him and never have.
Tall, strong, brown eyes, black hair. Cocky, arrogant, loud.
Everything I despise. People say he's attractive.
I can see it, I'm not blind, but his personality cancels it out ten times over. He's also a student leader, good at MMA, good enough that Griff gets him to compete. Good grades. Reed’s also Mason’s leader, that kid we found crying in the hallway.
He was the one belting that poor kid for no reason.
I didn't tell Liam about Reed because I didn't want him to know Reed existed. Reed tried to sabotage me when I became a leader, the only reason being that he doesn’t like other leaders.
He wants all the privileges to himself. Told Griff I was using privileges to dodge obligations.
Griff didn't buy it. Didn't matter. After that, all I wanted was to kill him.
And now he's sparring with Liam. That easy smirk. Like a predator.
"Easy, sweetie," Jack teases as I land a combination too hard. "Save something for the bag."
"Sorry," I grunt.
I tell myself to breathe. Who Liam pairs with is not my problem. I made sure of that.
But my eyes keep drifting. Liam's form has improved. Still sloppy footwork, still drops his left guard on the right cross. I want to go over and correct him. Reed is grinning at him. Charming him.
I want to break his nose.
"Switch partners!" Griff calls.
Panic. I scan the room. Sammi. I've never willingly paired with Sammi. He's arrogant, lazy, terrible technique. But he's my best option. Blond hair in his eyes, flashing a smile like he's won the lottery.
"Sammi," I call, moving toward him before Liam can intercept. "Let's go."
"The golden boy gracing me with his presence? I'm honored."
I hold up the pads. "You want to do this or not?"
"Hell yes, daddy," he teases.
I want to vomit.
From the corner of my eye, Liam standing in the middle of the mat, looking around as others pair up. Jack waves him over. The guilt hits. I crush it.
Sammi's combinations are sloppy and predictable. I correct him mechanically. "Guard up. Follow through. Pivot on the back foot." The words come out. Part of me is always tracking Liam, where he is, what he's doing, whether he's looking at me.
He is. I don't meet it.
Sammi drops his guard for the fifth time. I smack his head. Not hard. He almost moans. I regret being born.
Another rotation. Another partner. Then another. By the third switch, it's obvious what I'm doing. The confusion on Liam's face has hardened into hurt. His movements are more aggressive, less controlled. He throws a wild hook that Cedric barely blocks. I fight the urge to intervene.
"Want to tell me what's going on with you two?" Jack asks during the water break.
"Nothing. Boundaries."
Jack's look says he's not buying it. "Right. Because boundaries include pretending he doesn't exist."
I cap my bottle too hard. "I'm his leader, not his friend. It's better this way."
"For who?" Jack says. "You're killing him. Look at him."
Griff calls us back before I have to answer. Jack's right. I know it. My stomach knows it.
The final drill, circular rotation, one person defending against multiple attackers. When it's my turn in the center, I lose myself. Block, counter, pivot, block. Muscle memory. For a few minutes, I don't think about anything. Just movement.
Then Liam steps up as my next attacker. Those blue eyes. The tattoos. The black hair.
Everything in me goes still.
He launches forward, faster, sharper than usual. Aggressive. Angry. He wants to win. I block his strikes, maintain distance, avoid his eyes. When Griff calls the next rotation, Liam lingers a half-second too long. Waiting for me to acknowledge him.
I turn away.
By the end of the session, I'm exhausted.
My eyes sting. I haven't cried since I was four.
I will certainly not cry now. Liam stands alone by the water cooler, watching me.
The look on his face, I can't hold it for more than a second.
I busy myself helping Griff collect equipment, gathering pads, wiping surfaces.
Staying occupied until Liam gives up waiting and leaves.
"Good session today, Ethan," Griff says, clapping my shoulder. "You're really pushing yourself."
"Thank you, sir."
I continue cleaning. Griff's pet.
This ignoring thing is harder than I thought. I don't even remember why I started.
I take my time in the showers. Avoid running into Liam. Boundaries. Distance. Professionalism. I repeat the words, hoping they'll eventually drown out the voice saying I'm making a terrible mistake.
Dinner. I set my tray at a corner table, back to the entrance. The mashed potatoes look disgusting. I stir them anyway. I sense Liam come in. Keep my eyes on my food.
Please sit somewhere else.
Please don't.
Footsteps. Of course it's him. He slides his tray across from me. I feel him watching, waiting. I give him nothing. Keep stirring cold potatoes I haven't touched.
"Are we still in the silent treatment phase?" he finally asks. "Or did I get upgraded to actual conversation today?"
I glance up. The hope in his eyes. Something twists in my chest. I look back down.
He pushes the peas toward me with a finger. "Or did I get demoted to ghost?"
"Focus on your meal, Marsal."
I try to be cold. I used to be good at it.
He stares at me, then at his untouched pasta. The cafeteria buzzes around us with laughter, conversation, the clatter of trays while we sit in silence. One I created.
I force myself to eat. Nothing has taste.
Jack and Miles join eventually, filling the quiet with conversation neither Liam nor I participate in. I finish eating, stand without looking at anyone.
"Administration duty," I say, and walk away. His eyes stay on my back the entire time.
I can do this. I can not talk to him.
The next day. Biology class. I spot Liam coming from the opposite direction.
Heart rate spikes. Palms go damp.
I consider turning around. And do what? Run? Literally run away?
"Hey," he says, stopping beside me. Voice quiet. Uncertain. "You okay?"
I nod without meeting his eyes. "Fine. Just busy."
"Right." He shifts his weight. "Look, if I did something…"
"You didn't," I say. I finally look at him. The confusion. The hurt. "I've got to get to class."
I slip past him. The urge to turn back, to explain, to erase that look from his face is almost overwhelming. I keep moving. Control. It's the only thing I have.
Behind me, he exhales sharply.
My eyes sting.