thirtythree
Aaliyah's POV
Class is a blur.
I can't focus.
I can't breathe normally.
My chest keeps tightening because all I can see is:
I keep replaying the moment his eyes met mine.
The softness.
The pain.
The fear.
The relief.
And then the way he nodded slowly when I told him—without words—that I couldn't talk yet.
He didn't push.
He didn't chase.
He understood.
That hurt in the best and worst way.
By the time class ends, my stomach is in knots.
Zaria texts me:
Zaria:
he's still there babe.
he hasn't moved.
My heart jumps into my throat.
He stayed?
The whole time?
Why?
I know why.
And it terrifies me.
?
Third Person POV
Caleb is leaning against a tree, watching Leo like a hawk.
He's been there for hours.
Just... sitting.
Hood up.
Hands clasped.
Staring at the sidewalk like he's waiting for a verdict.
If Caleb didn't know better, he'd think Leo was praying.
He approaches slowly.
"Yo."
Leo looks up.
His eyes are tired—red around the edges—but not angry.
Just drained.
"Hey," Leo mutters.
Caleb crosses his arms.
"You've been here since eight."
"Yeah."
"You look like shit."
Leo huffs a humorless laugh.
"Yeah."
Caleb studies him.
This... is not the guy he expected.
Not the fighter.
Not the cocky one.
Not the reputation.
Just a man who looks like he's barely holding himself together.
"You waiting for her?" Caleb asks, voice gruff.
Leo nods.
Caleb glances around, lowers his voice.
"She's... hurt, man."
"I know."
"She cried."
Leo's jaw locks.
His eyes close like he physically feels the words hit him.
Caleb swallows.
"You didn't cheat?" he asks cautiously, like he hates even asking but needs to.
Leo looks up fast.
"Maya," Caleb says flatly.
Leo groans into his hands.
"Caleb, I swear to god—I didn't touch her. I didn't WANT her there. She used an old key. I made a mistake letting anyone have access like that. I fixed it."
Caleb watches him a long time.
Then sighs.
"You got proof."
"I brought it," Leo nods toward his backpack.
"Everything. Screenshots. Texts. Timeline. I don't care how pathetic it looks. I need her to know the truth."
Caleb doesn't respond right away.
But something shifts in his expression.
Not friendliness.
Not approval.
Just a crack in the wall.
A grudging, reluctant, microscopic sliver of respect.
He clears his throat.
"She's coming out soon."
Leo sits straighter.
But he doesn't move toward the doors.
He doesn't even stand.
He just... waits.
Hands together.
Leg bouncing.
Face tight with held-in panic.
Caleb notices.
"Just so you know," he mutters, "if you ever hurt her like that again, I'm ending you."
Leo nods once.
Quiet.
Accepting.
"I won't," he says softly.
"I couldn't."
Caleb... believes him.
And that is terrifying.
For all of them.
?
Aaliyah's POV
Students pour out of the building.
I step out slowly.
My heart is doing backflips, flips, cartwheels, the whole Olympics routine.
I look around—
And then I see him.
He stands up fast.
Not a big movement.
Not aggressive.
Just... hopeful.
His hood falls back a little.
His eyes lift.
He freezes like he's scared to breathe wrong.
I stop a few feet away.
Not close.
Not far.
Just... somewhere in the middle.
For a moment, it's silent.
People walk around us.
Laughing, talking, living their normal lives.
While my entire world is stuck on pause.
Leo swallows hard.
His voice is barely audible.
"...Hi."
My breath stutters.
"...Hi."
His eyes flick over my face—soft, careful, searching for any sign that I'm okay.
I'm not.
But I'm not shattered anymore.
Just cracked.
I speak first.
"You stayed."
He nods, throat tight.
"I said I would."
That does something to me I can't name.
I grip the strap of my bag, grounding myself.
"I saw everything you left," I whisper.
He inhales sharply.
Like he was waiting—terrified—to hear those words.
"And I... read the proof."
His shoulders drop in relief.
But he doesn't approach.
He doesn't push.
He just asks quietly:
"Do you believe me?"
I look down.
My eyes sting again.
He nods slowly.
Respectfully.
Painfully.
"That's okay," he says.
"I'll wait."
My throat tightens.
He looks exhausted.
Emotionally bruised.
Like he hasn't slept and can't until this is resolved.
I meet his eyes finally.
They shatter me.
"I didn't want to hurt you," he says softly.
"I would never—never—do that to you."
My voice breaks.
"I know you didn't mean to."
He flinches slightly.
The meaning behind that hits both of us.
It still hurt.
He swallows.
"I just want the chance to fix what you felt," he whispers.
"...Leo."
He looks at me like my name is a prayer.
"...I didn't come out here to walk away."
His expression shifts—
not a smile,
not relief,
just quiet, devastating hope.
We stand there in the late afternoon light.
Not touching.
Almost healed.
Just two people who hurt each other and are learning to let go.
Finally, he whispers:
"Can I... walk you home?"
I hesitate.
Then nod.
He breathes out slowly—like he's been holding air for hours—and steps to my side.
Just close enough to feel.
We walk.
Quiet.
Careful.
Together.
For now...
that's enough.