Lucas' eyes widened in shock, and he nearly jumped. “No way! How do you know him?! He’s my brother!”

Ash wasn’t certainly expecting that, and so he flinched and said, “We met when I was younger.”

Lucas shaked his head thoughtfully and then said, “Lemme guess. He probably gave you advice, didn’t he?”

Ash nodded, his eyes narrowing. “How’d you know?”

“Just a hunch. He’s a big softie. Sees anyone in trouble, and he’s gonna cry over their problems. Always blabs about family, love, all that cheesy stuff.” He chuckled, almost to himself. “And don’t even get me started on how dramatic he gets over birthdays.”

Ash looked away, “Fine.”

I think he accepted my apology.

For a while, neither of them said anything. They just sat there.

Finally, Lucas glanced over at Ash, his tone more hesitant this time. “So, uh… is everything okay at home?”

Ash’s body stiffened, his jaw clenching as he instinctively looked down. His mind immediately flashed to the chaos waiting for him at home. ‘I wonder if it stopped.’ He hesitated for a second before responding. “Why do you ask?” His tone was calm.

Lucas shrugged. “Just because I wanted to. You looked disgusting when you were muttering stuff to yourself. Weirdo.”

Ash looked at him, and narrowed his eyes, “So, you were stalking me then?”

Lucas startled, “Huh? No! I was…I was just…I just looked at you when you came here! I promise!”

Ash shifted in his place, brushing off the damp grass from his palms, “I’ll be heading home now.”

Lucas nodded, and then lowered his gaze, “So, uh…did you…um forgive me?”

Ash sighed, “I haven’t. I still need some time to think of what you did. However, if you stop this madness, I might consider doing it soon.”

Lucas let out a shaky breath, and then stood to his feet, “I promise. I promise I won’t do it ever again. I will make it up to you and Jason. However, I might not give up on my goal. I need time to think about that.”

Ash pushed himself to his feet, but as he stepped forward, he winced, his leg faltering slightly.

Right, he had forgotten about how his leg throbbed. All thanks to Lucas’ bringing down the stupid stick on his leg back in the warehouse.

Lucas stepped closer, and then said, “You’re going straight home, right? No more wandering around roads or train tracks?”

Ash didn’t respond, his face set in a stoic expression as he adjusted his footing.

He might try to…do that.

Lucas sighed heavily, shaking his head. “That’s it. I’m escorting you home.”

“What?” Ash snapped, glaring at him. “No, you’re not. I won’t wander near train tracks, okay? I’ll go straight home.”

“Yeah, sure, but I can’t believe you,” Lucas replied sarcastically. “After what you were about to do, just shut up and follow me.”

Ash groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration. “You’re so damn irritating.”

“Thanks,” Lucas gave a toothy grin, falling into step beside him. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

They both walked in comfortable silence, except for Ash sometimes asking him he can leave, but Lucas wasn’t letting him go, saying what if his stupid mind asks him to go check the train tracks.

And then, out of nowhere, Lucas pointed towards his leg, that Ash was very carefully moving, since it stinged and throbbed. “Um…sorry about that stick. I couldn’t control myself when you said that.”

Ash looked over his shoulder, and said, “Said what? ‘Go to hell’?”

Lucas flinched, and then threw his hands in the air, “Hey, no need to tell me again. I will go as soon as I’m sure you’re in good hands.”

Ash rolled his eyes, “Geez, Lucas. Stop acting like this. It’s not like I’m gonna die.”

Lucas just stared blankly at him, and then started to laugh, doubling over, “Pfft-!” And then, he saw Ash glaring at him from the corner of his eyes, so Lucas choked on his laughter, and straightened up, “Seriously, you look like a zombie. Limp, glare, and all.”

Ash looked at him, unimpressed, and said, “It’s not funny.”

Lucas grinned, unbothered. “Hey, thanks for letting me know, yeah? But about that stick thing- sorry, okay? You just ticked me off, and my brain decided, ‘Hey, let’s yeet a stick at him.’”

Ash groaned, “Shut up.”

Lucas tapped his chin. “Hmm, next time I should use a heavy stick. That bony stick felt like it wouldn’t hurt.”

Ash turned to glare at him. “That bony thing felt like a sword.”

A few moments of silence pass, and then Ash says, “You can go now. Home’s close.”

Lucas shrugged, “I’m sticking to the end.”

“You’re being weird, now. Won’t Jamie be worried?”

Lucas smirked, “Yeah. He’d be crying like a toddler right now. But, he knows I won’t get into trouble.”

Ash scoffed, “Guess he doesn’t know his one brute of a brother.”

Lucas gasped dramatically, clutching his chest as if he’d been mortally wounded. “Brute? Really? You wound me, Ash.”

Ash raised an unimpressed eyebrow. “Idiot, you’re the one who wounds me.”

Lucas grinned, unfazed. “Nah, but admit it, I make life interesting.”

Ash sighed, “If by interesting, you mean irritating, then yeah. Absolutely.”

“Hey, come on. You’d be bored stiff without me.”

Ash didn’t argue, opting instead to keep walking. Lucas matched his pace, hands in his pockets.

Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

They continued to walk, when Ash saw the alley leading to his home. He turned to face Lucas, “You can go, it’s near.”

Lucas peeked from behind, and said, “Okay. I’ll go now.”

Ash sighed in relief, and starting walking, the sight of home dreaded him. He didn’t know if anything at home was okay, but he couldn’t stay anywhere except home too.

“Um…Hey, Ash?”

Ash stopped in his tracks, frowning, and thinking of what might Lucas say now.

“Yeah?”

Ash turned slightly, raising an eyebrow as Lucas hesitated, hands fidgeting with the hem of his sleeve.

“Look, I just wanted to say…” Lucas trailed off, then sighed. “I’m sorry. I kinda regret what I did.” Ash crossed his arms, watching him but staying silent.

“And, uh…” Lucas glanced at him briefly before looking away, his voice dropping. “Thanks. I’ve been thinking about it, and you’re right- I didn’t have to drag Blake and the others into my mess. It’s not their fight. I just thought I couldn’t do it alone.”

Ash’s brow furrowed slightly, but he didn’t interrupt as Lucas continued.

“So…I’m gonna tell them I’m done. Quitting this whole stupid game. I don’t need their help.”

For a moment, Ash simply stared at him, his expression unreadable. Then, he nodded slowly. “Do whatever you think is right.”

Lucas blinked at the calm response, then chuckled lightly. “That’s it? No lecture? No ‘you better not mess this up’?”

Ash gave him a look, unimpressed. “If you’re lying to my face right now about that quitting thing, I swear-”

“Hey, trust me, will ya? I’m not lying.”

Ash’s eyes widened.

Trust? A bitter laugh almost escaped him, but he swallowed it down. Trust. That damn word again. Every time Ash trusted someone, it seemed like the universe conspired to remind him why he shouldn’t.

He thought back to the last time he trusted anyone. Trusted their words, their actions, even their smile. And it backfired.

Ash clenched his fists. He’d believed him once. Believed he had his back. And then, like clockwork, the betrayal came. It always came.

“Trust me,” Lucas had said. How many times had Ash heard that before? And every single time, it ended with Ash vowing he’d never trust again.

But here was Lucas, standing in front of him, looking like he actually meant it this time. Like he was different now.

Luke always used to say to Noah, that trust is like handing someone a loaded gun and hoping they don’t point it at you. Noah didn’t understand, but Ash remembered it fully.

Maybe, this time, trusting someone won’t kill him.

Ash unclenched his fists, and said, “Okay. But don’t make me regret trusting you or I’ll not hesitate in shoving you in front of the train.”

Lucas snorted. “Thanks a bunch. It means a lot to me.”

Without another word, Lucas turned and started walking away.

Ash turned and started walking, the sight of home closing.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Blake sat sprawled on a couch in the corner of the club, a bottle of soda dangling lazily from his hand. The air reeked of sweat and cheap chips, but the place was buzzing with the noise of his lackeys cracking jokes, punching each other’s arms, and rehashing the day’s events like it was some grand victory.

It was a victory. For him.

“Man, Blake,” Carter called out, tossing a handful of chips into his mouth. “You totally rocked today. That punk had to know his place!”

Blake chuckled, swirling the soda in his hand like it was some fine drink. “That’s the difference between me and them. I win. Always.”

The group cheered. Another lackey, smaller and quieter than the rest, piped up cautiously. “Uh, Blake? Who’s that Ash dude anyway? Like… I’ve never seen him before.”

The mention of Ash’s name faltered Blake’s grin instantly. He sat up a little straighter, his eyes narrowing. “Ash? That freak? Trust me, you don’t want to meet him.”

The others exchanged glances, nodding in approval.

Liam sneered, “Yeah, he is a real piece of trash. Thinks he could just threaten Blake and get away with his cheap tricks.”

Blake leaned forward, “Damn him. Always acting like he’s smarter, like he’s above it all. I hate him.”

One of the lackeys snorted, “Hate him enough to teach him a real lesson?”

Blake’s smirk twisted into something darker. He crushed the empty soda can in his hand, letting the sound echo in the room. “I wanted to crush his skull under my foot.”.

For a moment, he froze, a memory flashing in his mind. Ash, on his knees, his head shoved down over and over again. Blake could almost feel that rush of power he’d had in that moment, the satisfaction of watching him- Ash crumble.

But then Lucas had shown up.

Blake clenched his fist, the crushed soda can forgotten on the floor. He hadn’t stopped because he wanted to. Hell, if it were totally up to him, he’d have killed him right there. It never was a problem for him, his dad being a politician helped his wicked hobbies greatly.

Blake had killed a boy before- a teenager named Xavier.

Xavier wasn’t from here; he’d transferred to their school from Canada. The moment he showed up, he was like a main character; smart, charismatic, effortlessly kind. He aced tests without breaking a sweat, charmed teachers and students alike, and had this annoyingly warm way of speaking to everyone. The guy was just too much.

In other words, he was a perfect target for Blake.

Blake couldn’t stand people like him. The ones who smiled at everyone like the world was some great place. The ones who thought they could just be nice and fix things. Xavier’s very existence felt like a challenge, a spotlight on everything Blake didn’t have. And Blake? He didn’t do well with challenges.

So, he started messing with him.

It began small, of course. Tripping him in the hallways, scattering his books across the floor. Classic stuff. But no matter what Blake did, Xavier didn’t crack. He’d just pick up his books, flash that irritating smile, and say something stupid like, “You are really hurt, aren’t you?”

That smile made Blake’s blood boil.

As time went on, Blake escalated. He’d shove Xavier into lockers, steal his homework, ruin his projects. Nothing worked. The kid stayed calm, unfazed, like he was above it all. Worse, Xavier started trying to “talk” to Blake, offering these pep talks about how things could be better.

One day, Xavier caught him alone after school. “Blake, this isn’t right. You can’t keep doing this to people.”

The words had only irritated him. Who was he to tell Blake what to do? What gave him the audacity to even think he had the right to stop him?

“Get out of my way,” Blake had hissed, his voice low and dangerous. “You think you’re so great, don’t you? Like you’re better than me?”

Xavier just shook his head, his voice calm. “No. I don’t think that at all. I just think you’re capable of better.”

Blake didn’t respond. Xavier was too nice.

“If you want to talk about something, Blake…I am here to listen.”

Blake was furious. He left after Xavier said that, but his thoughts were swirling. Trudging down the road, the words echoed in his mind.

.

.

"If you want to talk about something, Blake… I am here to listen."

.

.

Why would anyone want to listen to his problems? Why would he want to share them?

Emotions were for the weak. That’s how Blake saw it. Telling people about what was going on inside his head, sharing his pain or doubts, was like handing over a piece of your strength and saying, Here, take it. Take this and use it against me.

Weakness. That’s what it was.

Blake had learned long ago that you never let people see that side of you. You couldn’t afford to. Emotions? They made you vulnerable, made you lose control. And Blake never lost control.

He didn’t want anyone to pity him. He didn’t need their help. He didn’t need their sympathy. Blake didn’t need to explain himself to anyone.

Sharing, talking, trusting- it all made you weak. And Blake wasn’t weak. He never had been.

So when Xavier had offered his help, Blake had felt something inside him snap. He couldn’t let himself be that guy. The guy who cried on someone’s shoulder, the guy who let others see his pain. No. He was better than that.

He wouldn’t be that vulnerable, wouldn’t let anyone see his cracks. Because once they did, they’d destroy him.

And I’m not letting anyone destroy me again.