The final bell rang through the corridors, sharp and echoing, as students flooded out of their classrooms in waves of laughter and chatter. Lockers slammed shut, shoes scuffed against the tiled floor, and somewhere down the hall, someone was already crying over goodbyes that felt too heavy for a single afternoon.
At the far end of the classroom, Tian Yueyue knelt beside his desk.
Books were scattered everywhere.
"Ah—wait—no, not that one..." he murmured softly, fingers fumbling as he tried to gather his notebooks into his chest. His bag lay open on the floor, half-zipped, its contents threatening to spill out again at any second.
Yueyue was small—too small, many people said. Petite shoulders, narrow waist, limbs that looked as though they belonged to porcelain rather than flesh. His uniform hung delicately on his frame, sleeves slipping past his wrists no matter how many times he rolled them up. When he bent down, a few strands of soft dark hair fell into his eyes, framing a face that made people stop without realizing why.
Pretty.
Fragile.
At least, that's what half the school thought.
The other half whispered.
Some admired him openly, eyes lingering a little too long. Some hated him quietly, especially when they noticed who their crushes were staring at instead. Yueyue never understood why people looked at him that way. He only knew that their gazes made him nervous, made him want to shrink into himself and disappear.
"Yueyue! Hurry up!"
The voice came from the doorway.
Noor stood there with a box in her arms, smiling through teary eyes. Today was her last day—transfer papers signed, lockers emptied, life packed neatly into cardboard. She had been Yueyue's best friend for as long as he could remember. Loud where he was quiet. Bold where he was timid. Protective like a shield he never asked for but always needed.
"I—I'm coming!" Yueyue called back, scrambling to his feet.
In his rush, one of his books slipped from his arms and hit the floor with a dull thud.
"Oh—!"
Before he could bend down again, someone else picked it up for him.
Yueyue froze.
"Be careful," a gentle voice said, placing the book into his hands. "You always rush when you're nervous."
Yueyue looked up, eyes wide, lashes fluttering.
"Th-thank you..."
The boy who helped him smiled briefly before walking away, already surrounded by whispers. Yueyue hugged the book to his chest, heart beating a little too fast, unsure why moments like this always left him feeling so exposed.
He hurried after Noor, almost tripping as he ran down the hallway.
"Noor! Wait for me—please!"
She laughed and slowed immediately, turning back just in time to catch him by the wrist before he could stumble again.
"See?" she said softly. "If I leave, who's going to watch you?"
Yueyue lowered his gaze, cheeks warming.
"I'll... I'll be okay," he whispered, though he wasn't sure he believed it.he looked up, eyes wide, lashes trembling as Noor's hand stayed warm on his wrist.
"Ohh my crybaby, am gonna miss you so much, if it weren't for you I wouldn't go Baby... take care of yourself while I'm not around, drink warm water before you sleep, eat warm food, don't forget to dry your hair after bathing so that you won't catch cold, and your shoe lace, don't forget to check it always , try and fix it before you fall my clumsy fish ," Noor said softly, her voice half-laughing, half-serious. "And if anyone tries to get at you... just text me. I'll come and avenge you myself."
Yueyue couldn't help a small laugh, the tension in his chest loosening slightly. "You... you can fly all the way from the U.S. to China after one text?" he asked, half-teasing, half-awed.
"Oh, don't underestimate me," Noor replied, smiling, eyes sparkling. "You'll see. You just wait."
He shook his head slightly, feeling a warmth rise in his chest. "I... I don't even know what you could do," he admitted quietly, voice breaking just a little.
"Noor," he whispered, his lips curving into a soft, teary smile, "you really are impossible."
She laughed gently, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. "Maybe. But someone's got to watch over my little fish , right?"
The sound made him chuckle despite the lump in his throat, the tears he'd been holding threatening to fall freely now. He blinked rapidly, trying to keep them back, but the smile on his face betrayed the emotions he couldn't fully control.
Minutes passed in gentle, quiet conversation, words lingering in the air as if neither of them wanted to break the spell. Then the sound of a car pulling up outside made Noor glance toward the street.
"I guess... this is it," she said softly.
Yueyue's heart twisted painfully. He nodded, clutching his backpack tightly as if it could shield him from the loneliness he knew would follow. "Yeah..."
She stepped toward him and pressed a quick, firm hug into his shoulders and delivered a quick peck on his forehead. "Be strong, my little fish, am gonna miss you real bad my son ? " Yueyue whined when she said my son , he always dis " making noor pinch his cheeks and smile"
"Hehehe my son is sulking, aren't you my child? I literally do everything for you , you clumsy fish, be grateful " she said dramatically making Yueyue stink his tongue out and they both giggled
"... text me if anything happens. You know I'll come running."
He hugged back tightly, tears finally slipping down, dampening his uniform. "I... I'll try," he whispered.
Noor pulled back just enough to give him a teasing smile. "Try? That's all I ask, little snake."
Yueyue laughed softly, wiping his cheeks with his sleeve as she stepped into the car. He waved, and she waved back, the vehicle slowly pulling away. He stood frozen for a moment, watching the car disappear around the corner, the distance growing with every second.
The weight of the day, the empty hallways, the stares he had grown used to—it all hit him at once. His chest ached. I won't be fine without her... he admitted silently. She was my shield. She was the one who made it all bearable... and now she's gone.
He swallowed hard, forced himself to breathe, and clutched his backpack closer. With shaky legs and blurred vision, he turned toward the next department, toward the next lesson, knowing that the whispers and cruel eyes were waiting. He wasn't ready, he wasn't okay—but he had to keep moving.
Each step felt heavier than the last, yet slowly, painfully, he walked on, the memory of Noor's voice lingering like a warm light in the otherwise cold hall.
_____
After Noor left, the school felt louder.
Not because the students suddenly spoke more—but because Yueyue noticed everything now.
He sat alone by the window in class, sunlight pouring in and settling softly against his cheek. The desk beside him was empty. Noor's desk. He kept glancing at it unconsciously, as if she might suddenly appear, grin wide, and scold him for daydreaming again.
She didn't.
"Hey... Tian Yueyue."
He flinched.
A girl stood near his desk, fingers twisting nervously around her sleeve. Behind her, a few students hovered—pretending not to stare while very clearly staring.
"Yes?" Yueyue answered softly.
She swallowed. "Um... I was wondering if you'd like to join our study group after school?"
The classroom went quiet. Not silent—but tense.
Yueyue felt it immediately. Eyes burning into his back. Jealousy disguised as curiosity. Admiration wrapped in resentment.
"I—I'm not very good," he said quickly, shaking his head. "I'll just slow you down."
"That's not—" she began, but someone scoffed from the back of the room.
"Why ask him?" a boy muttered. "He won't even last ten minutes before panicking."
Another voice chimed in. "Yeah. He just looks pretty. That's all."
Yueyue's fingers curled tightly in his lap.
The girl's face flushed with anger. "That's not true."
But Yueyue stood up before it could escalate, bowing his head politely.
"I'm sorry," he whispered. "I really can't."
He slipped past them, shoulders hunched, as if trying to make himself smaller than he already was.
⸻
By lunchtime, the whispers had grown teeth.
"Did you hear? Another confession today."
"He rejected her, of course."
"Who does he think he is?"
"I heard teachers favor him too."
"Maybe he's pretending to be innocent."
Yueyue sat at the edge of the cafeteria table, barely touching his food. Every sound felt sharper without Noor's chatter beside him. He stared down at his tray, appetite gone, when suddenly—
Crash.
Someone "accidentally" bumped into the table.
Juice spilled across Yueyue's uniform, staining the pale fabric.
"Oh—sorry," the boy said flatly, not sounding sorry at all.
Laughter followed.
Yueyue stood there frozen, eyes wide, lips trembling. The cafeteria felt enormous, hostile, closing in on him from every direction.
"I... I'll clean it," he murmured, voice barely audible.
As he hurried away, he didn't see the way a few students watched him—uneasy now, guilt flickering beneath their earlier jealousy.
On his way to class after break,
The corridors were quieter when classes ended, but Yueyue's steps echoed loudly in his ears as he walked yo his class alone. His back felt heavier than usual.
Halfway down the stairs, his foot caught.
"Ah—!"
He would have fallen if someone hadn't grabbed his arm.
"Careful."
Yueyue gasped softly, heart racing, as a teacher steadied him.
"You should be more cautious," the woman said gently. "Especially now that you're alone."
Yueyue nodded, embarrassed. "Yes... I'm sorry."
Yueyue said and continued walking
____
At his classroom,
Loneliness was loud.
He sat at his desk, back straight, hands folded neatly as the teacher spoke at the front of the class. Chalk scratched against the board, numbers and formulas blurring together, yet Yueyue heard none of it. His thoughts were tangled somewhere else—knotted tightly around the feeling that he no longer belonged anywhere.
Don't shake, he told himself.
Don't look nervous. Don't give them a reason.
But his fingers trembled anyway.
Every time someone laughed behind him, his shoulders stiffened. Every whisper felt personal, even when it wasn't meant for him. He had always been sensitive, always felt things too deeply, but now—with no one beside him—it felt unbearable.
"Tian Yueyue."
The teacher's voice cut through the room.
Yueyue startled, standing up too fast. His chair scraped loudly against the floor.
"Yes—yes mam?" he answered, cheeks flushing.
"Read the next paragraph."
The book felt heavy in his hands. Words swam on the page. He opened his mouth—
And someone snickered.
"He's blushing again."
"Why does he always look like he's about to cry?"
Yueyue's throat tightened. He forced himself to read, voice soft, wavering. When he finally sat down, his ears were burning, eyes stinging with tears he refused to let fall.
If I cry, it'll get worse, he thought desperately.
If I cry, they win.
⸻
During second break, a group of girls gathered near the lockers, their voices deliberately loud.
"I swear, even seniors notice him."
"I don't get it. He doesn't even try."
"That's what makes it annoying. He acts all innocent."
Yueyue stood a few lockers away, pretending to search for something he didn't need. His chest felt tight, as if each word pressed against his ribs.
I'm not acting, he wanted to say.
This is just how I am.
But he said nothing.
A boy walked past him roughly, shoulder-checking him hard enough to send his books slipping from his arms.
"Watch where you're going," the boy snapped.
"I— I'm sorry," Yueyue said immediately, kneeling to pick them up.
The laughter came again.
No one helped.
As he gathered his books, his reflection shimmered faintly on the locker door—small, pale, eyes too big for his face. He stared at himself for a moment longer than necessary.
Why do they hate me?
What did I ever do wrong?
He had never chased attention. Never asked to be noticed. Yet somehow, his existence alone was enough to stir resentment.
⸻
Yueyue went and sit at the staircase, a place Noor once joked was "their secret spot." He unwrapped his lunch slowly, mechanically, though his stomach twisted too much to eat.
Around him, footsteps passed. Voices drifted.
"They say he's teacher's favorite."
"I heard he cried to the counselor once."
"Maybe he likes the attention."
Yueyue's hands clenched.
That's not true, his mind screamed.
I don't want this. I just want it to stop.
He pressed his back against the wall, knees pulled to his chest, making himself as small as possible. His breath came shallow, uneven.
For the first time, a frightening thought surfaced.
If Noor never left... would this still be happening?
Guilt followed immediately.
Don't blame her. She has her own life after all I forced her to go even though she didn't want to, but I had to, her mom missed her , I couldn't be selfish.
But the fear lingered.
He was alone now.
And everyone knew it.
⸻
When the final bell rang, students rushed out eagerly. Yueyue waited until most of them were gone before packing his bag. His movements were slow, careful—too careful.
As he stepped into the hallway, someone whispered his name behind him.
"Tian Yueyue."
He stopped.
His heart thudded painfully in his chest.
When he turned, there was no one there—only quiet laughter echoing from around the corner.
His chest ached.
Even when they don't touch me, he realized,
they still hurt me.
He walked home with his head lowered,
The sky was gray by the time Yueyue reached the bus stop.
Clouds hung low and swollen, pressing down on the city like a warning. The road was damp from earlier rain, puddles gathering along the edges of the pavement, reflecting broken images of streetlights and passing cars. Yueyue stood there clutching his schoolbag to his chest, shoulders hunched, uniform still faintly stained from the cafeteria spill earlier that day.
He told himself not to think.
If he thought too much, the ache in his chest would grow unbearable.
The sound came suddenly—sharp and cruel.
A car sped past the bus stop, tires slicing straight through a shallow puddle. Water surged upward in an ugly arc, cold and dirty, splashing violently against Yueyue's legs, his shoes, his uniform.
For a second, he didn't move.
Water dripped from the hem of his trousers. His socks clung uncomfortably to his skin. The pale fabric of his uniform darkened where it had been soaked through, plastered against his thin frame.
The car didn't slow.
Didn't stop.
Didn't even notice him.
Yueyue blinked.
Once.
Twice.
His hands trembled, tightening around the strap of his bag until his knuckles turned white.
Don't cry.
The thought came instantly, automatic, drilled into him over years of quiet endurance.
Don't cry here. Don't cry in public. Don't give anyone the satisfaction.
His throat burned. His eyes stung, lashes trembling as tears threatened to spill over. He lifted his chin slightly, forcing the tears back, breathing shallowly until the ache dulled into something quieter, heavier.
His life felt like that splash of water.
Sudden.
Unfair.
Messy.
And no matter how careful he tried to be, he always ended up soaked anyway.
The bus arrived a few minutes later with a tired hiss, doors opening slowly. Yueyue stepped inside without looking up, paid his fare, and walked all the way to the back.
The far corner.
The last seat.
His favorite place.
There, no one would sit beside him. No one would stare openly. He could curl in on himself and disappear just a little. He pressed his forehead lightly against the cool glass of the window as the bus pulled away, the city blurring into streaks of gray and dull color.
The ride was long.
Too long.
Each stop brought new passengers, laughter, conversations that floated past him without touching him. Yueyue kept his gaze fixed outside, fingers curled in the damp fabric of his sleeve. His eyes trembled, vision wavering as emotions piled up quietly inside his chest.
It's okay, he told himself again and again.
I'm okay. I always am.
It wasn't as though they were poor.
No—far from it.
The Tian family was wealthy. Powerful. Respected.
But that wealth didn't belong to him.
It belonged to his stepfather's family.
His mother had married into the Tian household some few years years ago when he was 13, carrying Yueyue with her like fragile luggage she was determined to protect. From the outside, people envied him. They saw the mansion, the guards, the luxury, and assumed his life must be perfect and he only acts innocent and pitiful for attention and affection, he acts like he doesn't want that rich life but deep down he is a gold digger, they say all sort of things about him but only him knows what is actually going on with his life.
They didn't see the distance he kept.
They didn't know how carefully he avoided everything that screamed wealth.
He never used the family cars unless forced to. Never asked for drivers. Never stepped into the helicopters that occasionally landed within the estate grounds. Those things felt too heavy, too extravagant—like debts he didn't know how to repay.
I don't want to be a burden, he reminded himself.
So he rode the bus.
Just like before.
Just like old times.
The bus slowed eventually, pulling to a stop near the estate junction. Yueyue stood, legs stiff, uniform still damp and clinging uncomfortably to him. He stepped down onto the pavement, cold air brushing against his skin, and watched the bus disappear down the road.
For a moment, he simply stood there.
Then he crossed the wide road carefully and approached the estate entrance.
Tall iron gates loomed ahead, elegant and imposing, framed by stone pillars. A uniformed guard stood at the entrance, posture straight and alert.
Yueyue reached into his bag and pulled out his identification card with practiced ease, holding it out silently.
The guard barely glanced at it before recognition dawned.
"Young Master Yueyue," he said respectfully, bowing.
Yueyue startled slightly and bowed back immediately, movements small and polite.
"Good afternoon," he murmured, forcing his lips into a gentle smile.
The gates opened smoothly, silently.
Yueyue stepped inside.
The estate was massive—so vast it almost felt unreal. Manicured lawns stretched endlessly on either side of the paved path. Decorative fountains shimmered softly in the distance. Trees lined the walkways with deliberate elegance, their branches swaying lightly in the breeze.
Someone could build an entire neighborhood inside this compound alone.
Yueyue walked on without looking around too much. He had long since grown used to the grandeur, even if it never truly felt like his. His steps were slow, tired, each one heavier than the last.
At last, the main building appeared before him.
The Tian household.
The mansion stood tall and proud, its architecture grand and intimidating. As Yueyue approached, two guards at the entrance straightened and bowed deeply.
"Welcome home, Young Master."
Yueyue bowed back again, smile tightening painfully on his face.
"Thank you," he whispered.
The doors opened, and he stepped inside.
Warmth rushed over him immediately—rich scents of food, incense, and expensive perfume filling the air. Yueyue took one step forward and froze.
If he had moved any further, he would have collided directly with a tray piled high with delicacies, carried carefully by a startled maid.
"Oh—!" she gasped, quickly stepping back.
"I—I'm sorry," Yueyue said at once, bowing repeatedly.
The maid shook her head, smiling politely. "It's alright, Young Master."
Yueyue straightened slowly and looked around.
The hall was transformed.
Decorations adorned the walls. Soft music played somewhere in the background. Several maids moved back and forth with trays of elaborate dishes, laughter and conversation drifting through the space.
What's happening...? he wondered silently.
His brows knit together as confusion washed over him.
Is there a celebration?
He took small, cautious steps forward, eyes flicking from one unfamiliar decoration to another. Everything felt too bright, too alive—so different from the heavy quiet he carried inside himself.
Then—
"Yueyue."
The familiar voice stopped him cold.
He turned slowly.
"Mama."
His mother stood near the staircase, dressed elegantly, her face bright with excitement. She smiled when she saw him, walking over briskly.
"Oh, you came just in time," she said warmly. "Here—take this."
She placed a small, carefully wrapped bag into his hands, followed by a sleek bottle of room fragrance.
Yueyue stared down at them, confused.
"Your uncle's brother said he likes citrus-scented cigarettes," she continued. "It was very hard finding them, even in the biggest malls."
Yueyue blinked.
Uncle?
Confusion spread across his face as he looked up at her.
She laughed lightly. "Ah—right. I forgot. You don't know him yet, do you?"
Yueyue shook his head slowly.
"Well," she said, smiling, "your father's younger brother. The one he always mentioned—studying abroad. He returned today."
Yueyue's fingers tightened around the items in his hands.
"Oh..."
"He might be at the backyard smoking," she went on casually. "Take this to his room. And—oh—I almost forgot. His brother said the room's scent faded, so spray this there for him."
She paused, then added, "After that, help out in the kitchen, alright?"
Yueyue forced his lips upward.
"Okay, Mama," he said obediently.
He turned toward the stairs, walking slowly, carefully.
No one noticed how his shoulders drooped.
No one noticed how his steps dragged.
No one noticed the dirt stains on his soaked uniform, the cold clinging to his skin.
No one noticed that he was breaking quietly inside.
And Yueyue didn't try to tell anyone.
Because he was used to this.
Yueyue climbed the staircase slowly.
Each step felt heavier than the last, as though the house itself was pressing down on him—its size, its wealth, its expectations. His damp shoes made faint sounds against the polished floor, and he flinched every time, afraid someone might notice the state he was in.
The hallway upstairs was quieter.
Too quiet.
Tall windows lined the corridor, draped with expensive curtains that filtered the fading daylight into something soft and distant. Doors stood evenly spaced, identical, imposing. Yueyue walked until he stopped in front of the room his mother had mentioned.
Your uncle's room.
The words echoed in his mind.
He hesitated only briefly.
Mama had said he might be at the backyard smoking. So Yueyue didn't knock.
He reached out, fingers trembling, and gently pushed the door open.
The room was dim.
Curtains were drawn halfway, letting in slanted light that cut across the floor in pale stripes. The air smelled faintly unfamiliar—clean, masculine, touched with something sharper underneath. The door clicked shut softly behind him.
That sound was enough.
The moment the latch settled into place, Yueyue's knees gave out.
He collapsed to the floor as if the strength had been pulled straight from his bones. His bag slipped from his shoulder, landing beside him with a muted thud. He crouched in on himself instinctively, arms wrapping tightly around his knees.
His hand flew to his mouth.
A sob tore its way up his chest—but he forced it back down, teeth pressing hard into his knuckles to stop the sound from escaping. His shoulders shook violently as tears poured from his eyes, blurring everything in front of him.
Don't be loud.
Don't let anyone hear.
Don't make trouble.
His body betrayed him anyway.
Tears soaked into his sleeves as he hugged himself tighter, forehead pressing against his knees. His chest ached, breath hitching uncontrollably as silent sobs wracked his small frame.
"Why... why do they hate me so much...?"
The words slipped out in a broken whisper before he could stop them.
His voice trembled.
"What did I do wrong...?"
His fingers dug into the fabric of his uniform, still damp, still dirty from the day. Every insult replayed in his head. Every whisper. Every laugh. Every false rumor that clung to him like a stain he couldn't wash away.
"I didn't hurt anyone..." he whispered desperately.
"I didn't do anything to them..."
His vision swam as tears fell faster.
"Then why... why does it hurt this much when they lie about me...?"
His chest burned. His throat felt raw, tight, as if it were closing in on itself. He pressed his hand harder over his mouth, but his breathing grew uneven, hiccups breaking through despite his efforts.
"I've... I've missed you so much, Noor..."
The name shattered him.
"If you were here... it wouldn't be like this..." His shoulders curled inward even more. "Things would've been better... it wouldn't be this harsh..."
He hugged himself tighter, nails pressing into his arms as though he could hold himself together through sheer force.
"I've misse—"
"Why are you crying, kid?"
A voice cut through the room.
Low.
Calm.
Lazy.
It echoed faintly against the walls.
Yueyue's breath stopped.
The sob died in his throat mid-sound, strangled into silence. His body stiffened completely, every muscle locking as fear surged through him.
Someone's here.
His heart slammed violently against his ribs.
He lifted his head slowly, eyes wide and wet, lips parted in shock. For a moment, he didn't move—couldn't move—mind racing as panic set in.
Did he hear everything?
How long has he been here?
Yueyue scrambled to his feet abruptly, movements clumsy and rushed. His knees wobbled, but he forced himself upright, wiping at his face frantically with his sleeve.
"I— I'm sorry—!" he blurted out, voice hoarse.
Silence followed.
Then—
He noticed it.
Smoke.
Thin at first, curling lazily in the air near the balcony doors.
Yueyue blinked, confused.
Smoke...?
He turned slowly, eyes drawn toward the source despite his fear. The door to the balcony was partially open, curtains shifting faintly as the evening breeze slipped inside.
The scent hit him next.
Sharp. Bitter. Unfamiliar.
He took one hesitant step forward.
Then another.
With each step, the smoke thickened slightly, swirling through the dim light. It stung his nose, made his chest feel tight.
He coughed softly, covering his mouth.
"Careful, kid."
The voice came again.
Closer this time.
Yueyue froze.
His breath hitched painfully in his chest, heart pounding so loudly he was sure the other person could hear it. Before he could step back—or apologize again—a shadow moved near the balcony.
A figure emerged from the haze.
Tall.
Broad-shouldered.
Shirtless.
Yueyue's breath caught sharply—not from anything improper, but from pure shock. He had never expected to see anyone here. Never expected to be caught like this. Never expected such a presence to suddenly fill the room.
The man stood calmly, cigarette between his fingers, smoke curling around him like it belonged there. His posture was relaxed, almost careless, as if nothing in the world could rush him.
Dark ink marked parts of his skin—tattoos etched across his chest and shoulder, sharp lines and patterns that looked permanent, deliberate. They made him seem older. More dangerous. Like someone from a world Yueyue had never touched.
Yueyue's eyes dropped instantly.
"I—I'm sorry," he said quickly, bowing his head. "I thought no one was here..."
His heart was still racing. His cheeks burned with embarrassment. Tears clung stubbornly to his lashes, threatening to fall again no matter how hard he tried to blink them away.
"I was told to bring something to this room," he continued shakily, lifting the small bag and bottle in his trembling hands. "My mama said... she said you weren't here..."
The room felt suddenly too small.
Too quiet.
The smoke drifted lazily between them as the man watched him—eyes unreadable, expression calm, almost bored. Yueyue stood there soaked, shaking, and painfully aware of how small and out of place he must look.
He didn't know that this moment—this accidental collision between his breaking point and an unfamiliar presence—was something that would stay with him far longer than he could ever imagine.
And for the first time that day, Yueyue realized something terrifying.
He hadn't been alone when he finally broke.
Well to let you all know
Warming
This is an m-preg story, and it's not an Abo