Tommen’s halls were crowded and loud, but you had perfected the art of slipping through them like smoke. Quick turns. Timed exits. Ducking into doorways right as Hughie rounded a corner. Every day became a series of quiet evasions, careful calculations, and silent escapes. You were steady on the outside, but inside you felt the tug—the one that wanted to look back.

But you didn’t. You couldn’t. Not anymore.

Hughie Biggs had once been the warm spot in your life. Gentle. Kind. The boy who held doors open, who laughed softly, who apologized even when he didn’t need to. He had been good to you, truly good. But goodness wasn’t the same thing as love. And his heart—soft, confused, battered—had always been stitched to someone else.

Lizzie Young. His first forever. His impossible-to-compete-with past.

You had always known it. Everyone had known it. There was a different light in his eyes when he looked at her, even when they were fighting, even when she hurt him, even when he insisted he was done. A tragic sort of devotion. A first-love ache lodged deep in his chest.

You were the safe calm after her storms. She was the storm he kept chasing.

So you pulled away. Quietly. Carefully. Slowly enough that he might not feel the hurt immediately, but firmly enough that you could protect what was left of yourself.

At school, he noticed instantly. Hughie was never oblivious—not when it came to people he cared about. His eyes would find you across the courtyard, confusion softening his features. His steps would slow when he spotted you leaving a room the moment he entered it. His voice would quiet in group hangouts, gaze trailing after you when you slipped out early.

Frustration built under his skin, not angry—just desperate. A boy trying to understand something he had broken without realizing it. A boy who didn’t know how to fix what had never been fully his to keep.

He tried approaching you between classes; you dodged. He lingered by your locker; you took a different hallway. He waited outside the cafeteria; you ate somewhere else entirely.

Your friends noticed the shift. His friends noticed the panic. Hughie grew restless, distracted, unfocused in training and jittery during lectures. His knee bounced when you were nearby but just out of reach. His fingers tugged at his sleeves. His breaths came uneven.

Confusion tightened around him like a vise. He missed you. He didn’t understand why he couldn’t reach you. But deep, deep down—somewhere honest—he did.

Because every time he saw Lizzie across campus, something inside him tangled. Something old. Something unresolved. Something you had seen in his eyes far too many times.

So you kept running—not out of spite but survival. Avoidance became your boundary. Distance became your shield.

And Hughie, for the first time in his kind, well-intentioned life, felt the weight of losing someone not because he didn’t care enough— but because he cared in the wrong way.