I remember the first time I met Hayden.
It was four years ago.
I had snuck out of the house—again. My father had warned me countless times never to leave without a bodyguard, but I never listened. Stubbornness ran deeper in me than bloodlines.
That evening, the city air had felt freer than usual, and I wandered too far—right into a neighborhood I had no business being in. A territory run by the kind of kids adults called "troublemakers." The type who didn't flinch at fights, who chased thrill like a drug. Kids who lived for chaos.
"Look what we have here," one of them sneered as he yanked me by the collar.
"Fresh meat," another one grinned.
"Let me go!" I shouted, kicking against the air. I was small then, barely at their chest level, all bones and nerves.
The one holding me pulled me closer, his breath hot and foul. "Or else what?"
I panicked. My fists flailed. One lucky punch landed against his cheek, and he dropped me with a grunt. But that only made it worse.
They swarmed.
Fists. Boots. Laughter.
I was on the ground in seconds, blood in my mouth, tears streaking down my cheeks as I begged them to stop. They didn't. They laughed harder.
Then—
"What the hell are you idiots doing?" a voice growled from behind.
I could barely lift my head. A boy—maybe just a little older than them—stepped forward.
"None of your damn business," one of the gang barked.
Before I could blink, that same boy—Hayden—dropped him to the floor with one brutal punch. I heard the sickening crack of bone, saw the guy go limp. The rest attacked, but Hayden fought like a storm—efficient, brutal, controlled. One by one, they fell.
And when it was over, he walked toward me.
I trembled.
He grabbed me by the collar. "Jeez, kid. If you can't fight, then don't pick one." He dropped me. "Get out."
I collapsed to the ground, choking back sobs, too stunned to speak. I wanted to thank him. I wanted to run. But all I could do was watch as he walked away.
I kept seeing him after that.
You'd think getting beat within an inch of your life would teach me a lesson. But something about Hayden stuck. I hated feeling weak. And he... he was the exact opposite of that. Strong. Unshaken.
He hung around the alleyway where we first met. Later, I learned he'd taken over the gang. Became their leader after the fight.
Why he saved me that day, I never knew. When I asked, he always brushed it off. Or ignored me.
Still, I kept showing up.
Hayden never said much, but he listened. We'd sit on rooftops, watching the sun die behind grey buildings. I'd talk—about school, about my controlling father, about how fake the family dinners were. He didn't judge. He didn't give advice. He just... listened.
Despite his cold demeanor, I stopped being afraid of him.
One evening, I asked again. "Why'd you help me that day?"
He looked bored. "This question again? Seriously?"
"Just tell me," I pushed. "I need to know."
He sighed. "I think you're cute."
I blinked. "I'm not cute. I'm a guy."
"A guy who's really cute," he smirked.
I opened my mouth to argue, but then he stepped closer. Really close. One arm resting against the wall behind me, boxing me in. My back pressed against the bricks. My heart thudded. I thought he was going to hit me again.
Instead, he lifted my chin and said, "You're really, really cute."
I didn't move. I couldn't.
Then he leaned in and kissed me.
I froze.
My whole world flipped. I shoved him back. "What are you doing? I'm a guy!"
"And?"
"And... and this is wrong!"
Hayden didn't flinch. "Did you like it?"
"I—I..."
"Then stop talking."
And he kissed me again.
I didn't understand what I was feeling. All I knew was that when he held me, the noise in my head went quiet. I felt seen. I felt something.
We got close. So close it scared me. But I kept coming back.
Then came the beginning of the end.
I invited Hayden to one of the Almasi evening gatherings. I knew they were boring. I just wanted someone there who didn't wear a mask. Someone real.
We snuck around the estate, laughing under our breath like dumb kids on a date. When he said he was leaving, he helped me back through the balcony into my room. And just before he left, he kissed me goodnight.
That's when I saw him.
My father.
Standing there.
Watching.
He had come to check on me. I didn't even hear the door open.
Everything after that happened too fast. Words were said. Accusations thrown. I tried to explain but no one listened.
The Almasi name could not be "tainted." They said I'd disgraced them. Brought shame. My father—my own father—looked at me like I was filth.
The next morning, Hayden was gone.
Just... gone.
No note. No word. Nothing.
And just like that, the warmth, the laughter, the rooftop memories—all of it—was torn away.
All I had left was pain.
And hate.
And the memory of the boy who called me cute and kissed me like I mattered.
Hayden.
_ _ _
I didn't know what the hell I was doing. My legs carried me to the balcony before my brain could come up with a single damn reason for it. I just stood there at the doorway, frozen, watching Hayden.
He stood there too, his back to me, elbows resting on the railing, head slightly down like the weight of everything he carried had finally caught up with him. The breeze ruffled his hair, casting flickers of movement through the moonlight.
As if sensing my presence—or maybe the universe just shoved him—he turned slightly, eyes catching mine. Then he looked away again, like the sight of me was too much.
"Hey," I said, hands stuffed deep in my pockets, voice barely above a whisper as I stepped forward. It was all I could manage.
He didn't respond.
The silence clung to the air like smoke, thick and choking. I hated this. One step forward, ten steps back—that's what it felt like with him. No matter what we tried to build, it crumbled before it even had the chance to stand.
"You okay?" I asked, instantly regretting how stupid it sounded. I mean, really? That's what I went with? You okay? Shit. What the hell was I doing?
Still nothing.
I opened my mouth again, hoping to fix my blunder, but Hayden beat me to it.
"What are you doing, Isaaq?" His voice was low, tired. Sharp enough to cut.
"I'm... worried, okay? I just—"
"Worried?" he scoffed, the bitterness in his tone lashing at me like a whip. "Shouldn't you hate me right now? Why the hell would you care?"
"Hayden..." I swallowed hard. "Look, I don't know what's going on. And I have no way of knowing if you keep blocking me out. I just... I just need—"
"A reason?" he cut in, spinning halfway toward me now. "A reason to forgive me? So we can go back to how things were and forget everything that happened today?"
"Well... that works," I offered, half a smile on my lips despite the ache in my chest.
Hayden laughed. Dry. Mocking. "That's rich."
"I'm serious," I said. "I—"
"Almasi," he snapped, my name biting through the air like an insult. "Just don't make me regret not killing you when I had the chance. You're so damn annoying."
I felt my chest squeeze tight, my heart thudding erratically.
"Then do it!" I snapped back, voice cracking.
Hayden blinked, stunned.
"Do it," I said again. "I'm weak, injured, completely fucking helpless right now—in the middle of God knows where. You've got the upper hand here. So if you're going to keep acting like I mean nothing to you, then go ahead and finish it."
He stared at me, eyes flickering with something unspoken, something caged.
"You have no idea..." he began, voice raised but shaky, like the words were fighting to stay buried. "You don't know how—" His voice cracked. "You don't know what it's like to..."
He turned away, dragging a hand through his hair. Then he slammed both palms against the railing, bowing his head.
"Just fuck off, Almasi!" he shouted.
I flinched, more at the hurt in his voice than the volume. I didn't know what stung worse—what I'd learned about him and Aiden, my wounds, or this... whatever this was between us, unraveling like cheap thread.
"If you're gonna keep acting like this," I muttered, trying and failing to keep my voice steady, "then maybe it's for the best you stay the fuck away from me."
My voice cracked. A tear slipped free—I had held it back long enough.
"You're a horrible person, Hayden. Aiden. Whatever the fuck you are."
I turned to leave, heart shattering with every step. And yet... I waited. For him to say something. Anything. But he just stood there. Silent.
I didn't even know where the hell I was going. The halls were a blur. I was exhausted, furious, lost. My chest ached like it was being crushed by a goddamn boulder. I wanted to scream. Break something. Cry.
Instead, I just sank to the ground, fingers digging into my scalp.
"Fuuuuuuuuuck!" I yelled, voice echoing into the emptiness.
I curled into myself, breathing hard, biting back the next sob threatening to rise.
Why did it always end like this?
Why did he always leave me broken?
And why, after everything, did I still want him to hold me?