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I could feel Callum's surprise when my lips touched his with the slightest amount of friction, so light I could hardly feel it. He was unmoving, but his lips were soft, the heat seeping and rising between us.

But even then, his posture made me falter, and I opened my eyes before pulling back. It took him a brief second to open his eyes, and what I saw in them made me hesitant - they were blank, almost unreadable, but the depths and shades within them sent me second guessing.

Did he not feel it too, then - the sparks between us? Were we meant to be something more, was I meant to be something more? Or was I just someone frail, fragile, someone he felt the need to protect, like a little sister?

The thought of it made my toes curl. "I - uh," the words that left my lips were foreign to my ears, I could hardly look him in the eye. "I-I'm sorry - guess I shouldn't have done that - "

But I had barely finished my sentence when he reached up to touch my face. His palm flat against the curve and dip of my cheekbone, calloused thumb caressing my skin as he tilted my face up so I was looking at him.

And then I saw it - within the depths and shades of his eyes - I saw a glimmer of hope, of reciprocated feelings, of promise.

"Definitely don't apologise," he murmured, before closing the gap between us.

I didn't know what surprised me more - the fact that Callum was reciprocating my feelings for him, or the fact that he'd taken the initiative to kiss me. But it didn't matter, none of it did, not at all, especially when he threaded his fingers through my hair and pulled me closer, so that I was pressed against him, the gaps and distances diminished, obliterated.

His lips were smooth, languid against mine and I let my eyes flutter shut as I gave in to the sensations his touch caused, like a ripple effect, spreading through my entire body. He ran his tongue across my lips, eliciting a soft noise from me, something like a whimper, or a moan, but I could hardly tell as I let him in.

I let him in, because it wasn't a mere pushing of physical boundaries when you kissed someone. I was sure he could taste the insecurities on my tongue as I could taste his. Our tongues never fought for dominance, because between him and I, Callum and I, we were on par, there was no upper-hand or top-dog, we were just people.

There was no knowing how long we kissed for, maybe seconds, minutes, but when he pulled back, his eyes were glazed, a tiny smile playing on his lips.

"Scout - " he shut his eyes briefly, before opening them again. "I - "

Sometimes, you had to take the plunge. And I knew that for all his bravery, despite the fact that everyone said he was courageous, he was human, he had fears, and I figured he was terrified.

I pressed my lips against the dark bruise along the line of his jaw, the sole spot I now realised I'd missed earlier on when attending to his wounds. His breathing hitched as I let my lips linger there, and I wondered if the human touch could mend wounds no medication could ever heal.

And when I finally spoke, my voice was quiet. "I know."

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Callum left later that night. I offered to drive him back - since his car was still in school - but he refused, saying he'd take the bus home instead. I said goodbye to him on the porch, before reaching up to press my lips against his.

His actions were still careful, slow, and eventually, it began to make sense to me. This was the boy who dealt with physical violence, every action of his was meant to hurt. And he was terrified of hurting me.

And I supposed that fear was warranted for. But sometimes, you had to throw caution to the wind, and I pushed myself further into his embrace. I kept my eyes wide open, watched him as he sank into the kiss, felt his features relax beneath my touch, until he was nothing but fragile, just as fragile as I was, as everyone else was.

I had to let him go eventually, because all good things needed to come to an end. It was the end of a moment, end of perfection, and back to reality. And reality did hit me hard in the face a good twenty minutes later, when I heard a knock on the front door.

Figuring it was Charlie back from work, I ran downstairs in a hurry, but stopped short when I realised it was Dave hovering by the doorway.

"Hey," I greeted, surprised to see him at my house so late in the night. There was something about him, his posture, the way his fingers twiddled nervously by his sides, which alerted me that this was no simple visit. "What's up?"

"I - uh," he could hardly meet my eyes. "I just wanted to see if - "

He trailed off, a furious blush rising to his cheeks. And at that instant, I knew. The puzzle piece fitted into the complicated situation, fitted perfectly, and Greg was right. His suspicions were absolutely right.

I had doubted it before, but I certainly did not doubt it now. My eyes flickered downwards, I noticed the bruises on Dave's knuckles, the slight abrasions on them, fresh out of a fight that happened barely hours ago.

You could know a person perfectly well. You could believe in them with all your heart, and trust that they had the sense to distinguish right from wrong, revenge from plain cruelty. But when the glass shattered and you saw them for who they were, it hurt. The disappointment was overwhelming, the hollow feeling inside you absolutely crushing.

"It was you?" the words slipped out of my mouth before I could stop them.

Dave glanced at me, his features contorted in horror. "Scout, I swear I wouldn't have done it if it wasn't for Hell Week, and if Jason - "

Jason.

In retrospect, I probably wasn't the best person to rely on for details of Hell Week. I didn't participate in it, I never saw how things went down. I was like looking through the window, watching things unfold before me. I interfered with the people involved, but never put myself in the centre of the action.

But Callum - he was like ground zero. The centrifugal point in which everything just happened around him, the brevity of Hell Week centred on him.

In future days, Callum was to tell me all that had transpired in that single week. On days One and Two, he'd escaped the bullying, but his friends weren't as lucky. Some had gotten pantsed, others were tripped in the cafeteria. Some had their lockers completely trashed, or they'd miraculously lost all their school books and gym clothes.

Day Three was when I returned back to school. That was the day Jason and my other friends managed to track down some of the quarterbacks and threw them into the bins. That was the day they cracked Callum and pulled a blanket party on him - only he'd escaped relatively unscathed because of my warning.

Day Four was when I somehow got involved in the pranks. Callum and I got dosed with water. But later on, I heard that guys like Greg got it worst. They'd gotten their cars vandalised or egged. It was thoroughly messy.

I had to wonder why Jason and the others didn't go harsh on Callum. And then, in the afternoon of Day Five, I found out why. Day Five was the day they broke him. It was the day they found his weakness.

I'd always imagined Jason to have some sort of dramatic finale to end this week of revenge, but never in a million years would I have guessed that it would result in this.

"What happened?" I asked, quietly.

"I'm truly sorry, Scout," Dave murmured, "I really am. It just happened so quickly and we had Jason's back. You don't ditch when it comes to Hell Week. But I guessed Jason was feeling a little on edge today, and he went up to Callum after school to tell him to stay away from you."

"And? What did Callum say?"

"He said," and Dave's eyes bored straight into mine, I saw that there were no lies in them, just the truth. "Not this time."

Three words, just those three words, and Callum had pretty much dug a grave for himself. "And Jason just flipped."

"And Jason just flipped," Dave echoed gravely, "You have no idea how shitty I feel. I thought Hell Week was going to be simple, we'd get quick revenge on those guys and be done with it. But, you've got to believe me, Scout, if I'd known the hatred had run so deep, I'd never in a million years have participated in it."

You could regret it a million times. A million and one 'should have's and 'ought to's but the guilt still remained, a bone-crushing weight that never lifted.

Maybe Dave was feeling sorry, but that did not lessen any of the wrong that he'd done. He could blame it on Jason, but it was a matter of free-will. Jason hadn't held him at gun-point and forced him to punch Callum. Dave had done it of his own accord.

My fingers curled around the edge of the door, and I looked at him. "Goodbye, Dave," I said, softly.

Then I shut the door, clicking the latches quickly into place. It felt like a ritual of sorts, locking out all sorts of evil and cruelty that took place in the outside world. Pressing my back against the door, I shut my eyes.

And for the time being, I felt completely safe. I was home and this was the only safe haven I had.

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Eventually, I had to leave the safe haven that was my home. But I realised that leaving one safe place took me into the arms of another - Callum. The next day, I found myself driving up to his apartment so I could check on him. Despite his repeated assurances from the night before that he was fine and healing, I wasn't convinced.

That was Callum in a nutshell, he had a tendency to keep things to himself and bear with the pain and just handle things on his own. And maybe I was overthinking it, but no one could be on their own for so long.

It was a dishevelled-looking Callum who opened the door to his apartment that morning when I rang the doorbell. He looked like he'd just gotten out of bed, and he seemed absolutely taken aback to see me.

"Hey," he greeted, softly, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he smiled. "What're you doing here?"

I had a lot of things I intended to say. But words failed me, and I found myself heading straight into his embrace, winding my arms around his waist. My sudden movement seemed to startle him, and he took a quick step back before recovering and wrapping his arms around me.

"What's wrong?" he murmured, and I felt his chest rumble against my cheek as he spoke. I wished, wholeheartedly, that I could keep him as safe as he made me feel.

"I'm sorry," I blurted. "I'm so sorry about what my friends - well, ex-friends did to you. And I'd like to apologise on their behalf."

"Wait," Callum pulled me back from him, his eyes boring into mine. "What?"

"I know everything - Dave told me last night."

His eyebrows shot up. "You know everything?"

"Yes. About how Jason went to confront you and how you refused to listen to him. I'm sorry he beat you up because of it - Jason can get a little impulsive sometimes."

"Oh," he seemed rather relieved to hear that. "That. It's fine."

I frowned. "But it isn't. You could've just lied and pretended to keep your distance from me in school. You didn't have to dig a grave for yourself by saying that."

"Well," he replied, simply, pressing his lips to my forehead. "It was worth the trouble anyway."

And I sank into his embrace, and let myself be drawn into the lull of his words, the smooth, soft rhythm of his heart against my cheek. This was the silence before the storm, and little did I know, then, what a tempestuous storm it was going to be.