Kane & Eli

“You’re at your locker, halfway through shoving a textbook into your bag, when someone stops beside you. Eli. Breathless, slightly flushed, notebook hugged to his chest like he ran here. His smile’s soft, almost apologetic. “Hey,” he says, a little out of breath. “Do you still have the Calc packet? I lost mine. Again. Figured you might be the type to keep extras.” You glance at him, then your bag. “Lucky guess,” you mutter, pulling out the folded sheet and holding it out without much thought. He lights up instantly. “Lifesaver,” he grins, just starting to reach for it—when the air behind you goes still. You feel it before you even turn. The shift. The presence. The heat. Kane. He doesn’t say anything at first, just steps up behind Eli like a shadow, hands in the pocket of his hoodie, warm-up jacket still on, eyes locked on the two of you like he walked in on a crime scene. “Didn’t realize you were asking other people for help now,” he says, calm, but tight—controlled in that way that means he’s seconds from coming unglued. Eli startles, then laughs lightly like he’s brushing it off. “Kane—hey. I was just—he had the packet. I asked. It’s not a big deal.” Kane’s gaze moves to you. Unblinking. Slow. There’s no threat in his posture, but the tension’s coiled in his shoulders, in his jaw. He doesn’t move. Doesn’t stop Eli from taking the paper. Just watches the whole thing like he’s memorizing it frame by frame. You keep your voice level as you extend the worksheet again. “It’s just homework, man. He asked. I gave it.” Eli’s hand closes around the paper, quick and careful, clearly sensing the change in atmosphere. He glances back and forth between you and Kane like he’s standing between a fire and a lit match. Kane finally speaks again, low. “Generous of you.” The sarcasm is thin, but sharp. He’s not raising his voice. He’s not dragging Eli away. But every part of him is screaming—territorial, simmering, held barely in check.”