I was in shock.

I was in disbelief.

But more than anything, I was hurt.

"It was you?" I demanded, failing to keep my voice even. "This whole fucking time, it was you?"

He didn't say anything. He only stared at me. He didn't even look sorry. In fact, he didn't show any emotion. It was as if he was just waiting for me to blow my shit. And I almost did.

I really almost did.

I came up to him, bumping the medic out of the way and getting to his face.

I wanted to scream.

I wanted to yell out profanities.

I wanted to shake him hard and beg him to tell me that it wasn't true.

But all I could do was sigh, my shoulders slumping in defeat and disappointment – and maybe a little heartbreak from the betrayal, too.

"Why?" was all I could manage to say.

With dead eyes, he answered, "You know why."

I knew those eyes. I used to see them in the mirror everyday. I was him. The difference was, I was able to crawl out of that hole.

He didn't.

He needed someone to blame.

In his eyes, that someone was me.

"O'neal, what the hell do you think you're doing?" Coach Sax said, going between us.

"Coach, he—" I started to say, but then I stopped.

How did I tell him that I was getting blackmailed by this motherfucker this past year for what happened in Florida? Where was the proof for my claims? We didn't report the break-in. I didn't report anything.

What was more, Holden was a Senator's son. I already knew how it was going to play out.

"He what?" Coach urged.

My jaw clenched. He was right there. I wanted to do something but this wasn't the time and place.

Fuck me.

"Nothing," I gritted out.

Coach stared at me, maybe trying to read my mind or some shit. But he seemed to give up because he just shook his head and waved a hand for me to go.

"Let's go, then. Second-half's almost over."

I looked at Holden. He met my stare.

"We're done," I said, low enough that only he could hear. With that, I followed Coach out of the infirmary and joined my teammates.

We had a game to win, and I'd rather win it without a traitor in the team.

*****

Holden vanished.

After winning the game, we went back to the locker room and he wasn't in the infirmary anymore. I didn't know what to think.

All this time, I wanted to hunt down the person who had been blackmailing me. But now that I knew who it was, I didn't know how to react.

What did I do next?

At the very least, I wanted to talk – and maybe get even on him attacking my girlfriend. Perhaps it was just me, but a good beating seemed fair.

But also... There was a part of me that was just done with all this. I was done with the violence, the hatred, and the darkness.

I just wanted to fucking move on.

The fact was, I knew where he was coming from. I couldn't blame him for wanting revenge. But it had to end at some point. What was his end goal?

I didn't know. I just wanted to turn my attention to things that mattered.

An inch thick folder dropped on my desk. I looked up and saw Byron.

"There's that reviewer you asked."

"Thanks."

He didn't move. He just stood there beside my study table and stared at me.

"Yeah?" I asked.

"What are you going to do now?" he said, bringing the question back to me.

I shrugged, before leaning back on my chair. "I'm not sure yet. But I do know that I've spent too much time looking over my shoulder. I'm done."

Byron nodded. "Good, because you can't afford to slack off this second semester. Don't throw your future away for mistakes made in the past."

I sighed. "Thanks, Byron."

"However," he started a-matter-of-factly, pointing a finger up, "for now, you can take a short break and have a drink with us."

I let out a small laugh, and shook my head.

Byron backed away, grabbing my coat from the rack and throwing it at me. "Yash is meeting us at Crown Oak in fifteen."

I stood up and put it on. "You're a bad influence."

"I bet I'm not the worst influence," he countered, with his back turned to me as he climbed down the stairs and walked towards the front door.

"Definitely not," I muttered, with a small smile on my face as I remembered my friends from high school.

I followed Byron out and we headed to Crown Oak, which wasn't that far from our place. It was just a few minutes walk. We were crossing a street when Byron spoke again.

"I'm thinking of telling my family about Noah."

My eyes widened and I looked at him. "That's... That's brave, By."

He took a deep breath. "It feels wrong to hide something that feels so right, you know?"

I nodded. "I get it."

"If I get disowned, can I crash at your place?" he said it as a joke, grinning at me. But it was obvious that he was forcing it. He was nervous as hell.

I snorted. "Dude, you can stay at our place as long as you want."

He stopped walking and looked away, turning his head up to the sky. His eyes closed and a smile formed on his face.

"Luck was on my side the day I met you, Alfie O'neal."

I grinned, then nudged him on the arm with a fist. "With you saving my ass all the time, I'd say it's the other way around."

He opened his eyes and met mine. I knew Sassy Byron was back. "You're right. You're the lucky one here, blessed by my presence in your life."

I laughed out loud. "C'mon, you mush."

We made it to the corner where the bar was. We were about to walk in when I spotted Yash coming up to us. He raised a hand for a wave but then his hand stopped midair. His eyes focused behind us, and he frowned. Just as his expression turned into panic, I heard a scream from behind.

"Alfie!"

I turned around just in time to catch Byron falling down... with a knife buried in his stomach.

It was as if everything slowed down. I couldn't hear anything. All I could see was the blood on Byron's clothes, growing and growing.

No...

No...

NO!

"I... I..."

"Shh, it's okay," I whispered, trying to keep my voice from shaking. "It'll be okay."

From the corner of my eye, someone was backing away slowly until they turned around and made a run for it. Shit.

"I'll be back, By," I promised him. "Yash!"

He dropped down beside me and cradled Byron's head. "Already called 911."

"Take care of Byron."

I didn't wait for him to reply. I got to my feet and ran towards the bastard that just fucking stabbed my friend. My eyes zeroed in on him flailing around on the street. He didn't run fast so I was able to tackle him to the ground easily. I grabbed his wrists and trapped him under me.

"Who are you?!" I yelled out, turning the son of a bitch's face toward me. It was a person who looked like he was in his mid-thirties. He also looked drugged up.

"I'm sorry! I didn't mean to! Sorry!"

"What the fuck do you mean you didn't mean to?!"

"I was supposed to kill you, not that kid!"

I felt like my breath caught on my throat. "Me?"

The fucker nodded vigorously. "Someone wants you dead—but not me! Not me! I just want money for food and shelter! That's all I want!"

"Someone hired you to kill me?"

"Yes! But not me! Not me!"

My forehead creased. "Who?"

"I don't know! He was wearing a hoodie and a mask when he gave me your picture last night! Says you go to that pub often!"

I knew only one person who would want me dead. He was the only one stupid enough to be sloppy and hire a fucking homeless person to do his dirty work, especially now that he didn't have goons for hire anymore. He was really getting desperate.

The cops arrived before the ambulance. They arrested the assailant while I quickly ran back to Byron. The police wanted to talk to us but I said we needed to make sure our friend was taken to the hospital first before anything else.

Yash was doing a good job keeping the bleeding to a minimum. At least, until the ambulance arrived. Byron was trying to keep his eyes open and breathing steady, while Yash was making sure he didn't fall asleep.

"Stay with me," he said. "Help is almost here."

"You'll be okay, man," I added, kneeling on the other side. "One day, we'll just laugh about this."

He looked so fucking pale, seeming almost out of life. He was blinking slowly, like he wanted to just close his eyes and sleep. My heart was squeezing so much that I wanted to punch something. My eyes were starting to sting, tears daring to come out.

The sirens blared nearby. It wasn't too late.

"You're going to be okay," I repeated.

"I..."

"What is it, Byron?" Yash whispered.

Byron forced his eyes to meet mine. "I told you, didn't I?" He coughed up blood, but the corner of his mouth still lifted up and he returned his eyes on me.

"You're the lucky one."