The fluorescent lights overhead flickered faintly as Ethan stepped into the hallway, his sneakers scuffing against the polished linoleum. His favorite playlist hummed softly in his ears, the beats a soothing barrier against the cacophony of chatter, locker slams, and laughter that ricocheted through the school. The headphones, a sturdy black pair his sister had gifted him last Christmas, had become his armor—a shield from the noise, the judgment, and the unspoken questions.
His gaze flicked to the scuffed toes of his shoes as he walked, avoiding the sea of faces around him. Seventeen. New town. New school. Same awkward mess. His inner monologue was as steady as the music in his ears. He adjusted the strap of his backpack and sighed, his breath mingling with the faint scent of industrial cleaner and cafeteria pizza.
It had been three months since he and his family had packed up their lives and moved to this quiet, suffocating suburb. The new house smelled of fresh paint and pine, a stark contrast to the warm, lived-in chaos of their old place. His mom had said the move was for his dad's job, but Ethan knew better. It was about starting over—for all of them. New places. New faces. New secrets to bury.
Ethan glanced up briefly, catching snippets of conversations as he passed clusters of students. A girl laughed too loudly at something a boy whispered in her ear. Two jocks clapped each other on the back, their voices boisterous and laced with inside jokes. And then there was him—head down, headphones on, just trying to make it through the day without anyone noticing too much.
The truth was, no one really knew him here. Not the real him. The Ethan who spent hours reading queer coming-of-age novels under his blanket at night, who flinched every time his dad made a snide comment about "those kinds of people," who felt his chest tighten with longing every time he saw two boys holding hands in a movie. This Ethan was a secret, tucked away where no one could reach it.
Especially not them. His jaw tightened as his gaze landed on a group of soccer players loitering near the water fountain. They were the archetype of high school royalty—lean, confident, and loud enough to fill the hall with their presence. Ethan didn't know their names, but he didn't need to. He'd heard enough muttered slurs and mocking laughter to recognize the type.
"Hey, watch it, freak," one of them had said last week when Ethan had accidentally bumped into him in the lunch line. He hadn't responded, just mumbled an apology and retreated. That's what he always did. Blend in. Keep quiet. Survive.
He rounded a corner, lost in his thoughts, when it happened.
The collision was sudden, jarring. One moment, he was in his own world; the next, he was stumbling backward, his books slipping from his grasp and scattering across the floor.
"Jesus Christ," a sharp voice cut through the haze. "Do you even watch where you're going?"
Ethan looked up, his breath catching in his throat. Standing in front of him was Adrian—the Adrian. Tall, with sharp features softened by a dusting of freckles across his nose. His dark, tousled hair looked like it had been styled by a perfect gust of wind, and his piercing green eyes were currently narrowed in irritation.
"I—uh, I'm sorry," Ethan stammered, his cheeks flaming as he knelt to gather his books.
Adrian let out an exasperated huff, running a hand through his hair. "Whatever. Just stay out of my way next time."
Ethan watched as Adrian turned and walked away, his stride confident, effortless. For a moment, all he could do was stare, his heart pounding in his chest for reasons he couldn't quite explain. The sting of Adrian's words should have hurt, should have left him humiliated. But instead, there was something else—something electric and unnameable.
"Earth to Ethan," he muttered under his breath, shaking his head as he reached for the last of his books. His hands trembled slightly, and he clenched them into fists as he stood, refusing to let the moment linger any longer than it already had.
But as he made his way to his locker, Adrian's image stayed with him. The intensity of his gaze, the sharp edge of his voice, the way his presence seemed to fill the hallway. Ethan bit his lip, feeling a warmth rise in his chest that had nothing to do with anger or embarrassment.
And that scared him more than anything.
Ethan tugged at the hem of his hoodie as he stood outside the classroom door, the polished brass handle glinting under the fluorescent light. His palms felt clammy against his jeans, his heart pounding a nervous rhythm against his ribs. The muffled sounds of voices seeped through the door, a blend of laughter and loud chatter that made his stomach tighten. He'd faced this scenario before—new town, new school, new class. But it never got easier.
Taking a deep breath, he pushed the door open.
The room was a chaotic mosaic of noise and movement. Boys lounged in their seats, some with their feet propped up on desks, while a few girls gathered in small clusters, their voices a mixture of gossip and giggles. Desks were arranged in rows, but the students made no effort to align with the order, their energy filling every inch of the space.
Ethan stepped inside, clutching the strap of his backpack like a lifeline. The conversation didn't stop, but a few heads turned in his direction, their expressions unreadable. His gaze darted around the room, searching for the teacher, for a familiar face, for anything to anchor himself to. Instead, he found chaos.
"Ah, you must be Ethan Monroe."
The voice was calm but commanding, cutting through the noise like a blade. Ethan's eyes flicked toward the front of the room, where a man with salt-and-pepper hair and wire-rimmed glasses stood by the blackboard. His crisp white shirt and navy tie gave him an air of authority, and the room seemed to settle slightly under his gaze.
"Yes, sir," Ethan said, his voice barely above a whisper.
The teacher nodded, gesturing for Ethan to come forward. "Class, we have a new student joining us today. Ethan, why don't you introduce yourself?"
The collective weight of the room's attention shifted to him, and he swallowed hard. Slowly, he walked to the front of the class, feeling every pair of eyes follow his movement.
"Um, hi," he began, his voice faltering. He cleared his throat and tried again. "I'm Ethan. I just moved here a few months ago."
As he spoke, he felt the scrutiny deepen. A few boys in the back exchanged smirks, their whispers just loud enough to be intentional. One of them leaned over to his friend and muttered something that made the other laugh. Ethan's ears burned, but he pressed on.
"I'm…uh, looking forward to getting to know everyone," he finished weakly, his words hanging awkwardly in the air.
The murmurs grew louder, a subtle ripple of judgment that spread through the room like a wave. Ethan's hands clenched into fists at his sides, his nails biting into his palms.
"That's enough," the teacher said sharply, his voice cutting through the noise. "Ethan, you can take a seat next to Adrian."
Ethan's stomach sank. Of all the people in the room, why Adrian? His gaze flicked to the boy sitting near the window, his head resting lazily on one hand. Adrian's jaw tightened, his green eyes narrowing slightly as he glanced toward Ethan.
"Great," Ethan muttered under his breath, his feet feeling like lead as he made his way to the empty seat beside Adrian.
As he approached, Adrian straightened slightly, his expression unreadable. Ethan offered a tentative smile, his voice quiet as he said, "Hey."
Adrian didn't respond. He didn't even look at him.
The silence between them was deafening. Ethan slid into the seat, keeping his movements slow and deliberate, as if any sudden gesture might provoke Adrian further. The faint scent of cologne lingered in the air between them—subtle and woodsy, with a hint of something sharper.
Don't overthink it, Ethan told himself. Just get through the day.
The teacher's voice broke through the tension, launching into a lecture on Chinese sentence structures. Ethan tried to focus, his pen moving mechanically across his notebook as he copied down the notes on the board. But the proximity to Adrian was distracting in a way that made his skin prickle.
Adrian leaned back in his chair, his posture relaxed but his gaze sharp as he occasionally glanced at the teacher. His fingers drummed lightly against the edge of the desk, a restless rhythm that matched the tension thrumming through Ethan's chest.
"Ni hao," the teacher said, his voice cutting through Ethan's thoughts. "Ethan, let's see if you were paying attention. How would you say 'hello' in Chinese?"
Ethan froze, the sudden spotlight making his mind go blank. He glanced at his notes, but the characters on the page blurred together.
"Uh…"
"Ni hao," Adrian muttered under his breath, his voice low but clear.
Ethan's head snapped toward him, his eyes wide. Adrian didn't meet his gaze, his focus remaining on the teacher as if nothing had happened.
"Ni hao," Ethan repeated, his voice steadier this time.
The teacher nodded. "Good. Now, pay attention to the tones. They're crucial in Chinese."
Ethan sank back into his chair, relief washing over him. He glanced at Adrian, his lips parting as if to say something, but the words died on his tongue. Adrian's expression was as unreadable as ever, his focus already back on the lesson.
The rest of the class passed in a blur. Ethan took notes, occasionally stealing glances at Adrian, who remained silent but present, a constant and confusing presence at his side.
When the bell finally rang, signaling the end of the period, Adrian stood abruptly, slinging his bag over one shoulder. Ethan hesitated, unsure whether to say something or let him go.
"Thanks," he blurted out, his voice quiet but earnest.
Adrian paused, his gaze flicking briefly to Ethan before he shrugged. "Don't mention it."
And just like that, he was gone, disappearing into the sea of students flooding the hallway. Ethan sat there for a moment, hi
s heart pounding as he replayed the brief exchange in his mind.
Maybe this won't be so bad after all.