Strangers, Friends, and Everything in Between

by Everest_T1

Summary:

The idea of going to a new school had never really sat right with Rhys.

He’s torn. He misses lots of things about his old school—his friends, the people he’d been with since kindergarten, the niceties of knowing every inch and corner of the building. And yet, there’s a part of him that feels lighter here, something he hadn’t expected. Maybe that place had been weighing on him more than he realized. The routines, the expectations, the way he felt trapped in his own image—it had all grown too predictable. Too suffocating.

That is, of course, until he meets Jack Lawrence and his awkward twin brother.

Notes:

Okay, so, another old wip abandoned in my drafts, pulled from the depths of it. It’s really stupid, I’m painfully aware of that fact, but writing is writing and I’ve been scrounging for all my old borderlands content recently.

I’m normally not big on modern-AU type stuff, but put a high school AU in front of me and I’m a beast.

So anyway. I’ve spruced this up, made it yk, up to par with everything, and I’ve made this lore sheet for every character. If I feel like it and hear enough want to gain some motivation..I may continue it. Although I have a problem with starting stories and never finishing them so..we’ll see how this goes. Anyway. Pls be kind, if you don’t like- don’t read.

Otherwise, Enjoy!

Chapter 1: Character Descriptions and Lore

Character Descriptions! (Stereotypes be damned.)

Rhys - New Kid, Main Protagonist, but the story kind of splits perspectives between Rhys, Jack, and Timothy. Still has all his cybernetics and is a 17 year old senior. Likes to read, and lives with his very supportive mother.

Jack - TroubleMaker, rough around the edges, but still extremely hot classmate. 17 year old senior, lives with his dad after his parents divorce. Absolutely pining over Rhys who’s completely oblivious. His dad owns Hyperion, so he’s like secretly rich and that’s how he gets away with being a menace- because the school is basically funded by his dad. Not many people know that however.

Timothy - Shy/Nerd type, Jack’s twin brother (a weird trope but one of my favs honestly), lives with their grandma (uh oh you know what that means), after their parents divorce their mom took off and left Timothy with her mom.

Vaughn - Nerd/Geek, Rhys’ first friend at his new school and his best friend, bros for life, somewhat protective over Rhys once he realizes Jack is interested in him. 17 year old senior.

Yvette - BADDIE (jk, unless?) anyway, she gives Rhys and Vaughn all the drama, she’s friends with them, but also friends with more popular cliches. 17 year old senior.

Nisha - Jack’s ex girlfriend now turned best friend because he realized he was gay. Graduated in the class above Rhys + Jack’s.

Vasquez - Yk I had to include my favorite asshole (just to torture rhys and Tim tbh) Typical rich bully, with his other bratty rich friends. (Katagawa JR. Is one of them) Maybe kind of has a crush on Rhys and that’s why he bullies him? Less of a crush more of a trying to get into his pants kinda thing.

Moxxi - English and Art Teacher, please bc i think this is hilarious, obviously hottest teacher in the school, students pining, the whole works

Axton - Sort of the head of another group of students, which consists of all of the bl2 vault hunters. Gaige is the youngest, a junior, but Maya, Sal, Zer0 and Axton are all seniors. Tina is also included, but she’s a Freshman.

Tina - Freshman, kind of like the adopted child of the vault hunters group. Always getting up to trouble, the old seniors like to hear all her freshman drama.

Zane - Math Teacher, wacky as hell, Irish, I fucking love Zane

Fl4k - Agriculture/Animal science teacher, has a classroom full of all their pets, Rhys’ favorite class (aside from English 😍)

Zed - Biology/Anatomy teacher, a FREAKBOB, he’s like the biology teacher from Bully (will anyone get this reference? Is Bully too old?)

Sir Hammerlock + Wainwright - the resident gay History teachers of the school. Rhys finds solace in their very open gayness. Helps with his identity issues.

Torgue - Gym teacher, I will not be elaborating

Tassiter - uh it’s Principal Tassiter to you young man.

Chapter 2: September Part I

Summary:

TW: Implied/Referenced DV

The idea of going to a new school had never really sat right with Rhys.

He’s torn. He misses lots of things about his old school—his friends, the people he’d been with since kindergarten, the niceties of knowing every inch and corner of the building. And yet, there’s a part of him that feels lighter here, something he hadn’t expected. Maybe that place had been weighing on him more than he realized. The routines, the expectations, the way he felt trapped in his own image—it had all grown too predictable. Too suffocating.

Still, a new school is terrifying. It comes with its own set of rules, its own hierarchies, its own dangers. He fully expects to be the quiet kid eating alone in the cafeteria, lingering near the walls, slipping into classes unnoticed. He knows how these things go. He’s prepared himself for it.

Except—that’s not what happens. Not at all.

Apparently, having a robotic arm is a hell of a conversation starter. Kids flock to him like pigeons to bread, eyes lighting up with curiosity and half-formed questions they probably think are original. “Dude, can you crush things with that?” “How does it work?” “Can I touch it?”

He doesn’t mind, though. It beats being ignored. And, weirdly enough, he actually gets along with some of them. There’s a novelty in being the new kid that makes people interested in him, and for now, he’s okay with that. This is precisely how he met Vaughn and Yvette, his two best friends.

Now, walking to school on a warm September morning, headphones blasting music into his ears, he lets himself feel something like cautious optimism. Maybe this won’t be so bad.

---

Jack is also on his way to school, but in a much easier manner. He’s behind the wheel of his dad’s old pickup truck, the one he so graciously inherited on his sixteenth birthday. It’s got a few dings, a couple of spots where the paint’s chipping, but it runs well enough, and that’s all he really cares about.

The radio plays some low, indistinct rock music, more background noise than anything else. The only real sound is the hum of the engine.

He’s annoyed, but then again, he’s always annoyed when he has to go to school. He hates the structure, the expectation that he should be sitting still for hours at a time, pretending to care about things he has no intention of using. The only thing that makes it tolerable is that he’s good at navigating it. People expect him to be trouble, and he delivers just enough to keep them on their toes.

It’s warm enough this morning, at least. He hates waiting for his truck to warm up. He hates the way the cold creeps into his bones, how it makes everything feel sharper, more unbearable. His dad left before Jack even got out of bed, but that’s hardly surprising. The man barely has time to breathe, let alone check in. Not that Jack wants him to.

He grips the wheel a little tighter. Today’s going to be a long day. He just knows it.

---

Timothy waits until he hears his grandmother’s car start and pull out of the driveway before he even thinks about leaving his room. He listens, just to be sure. The hum of the engine fades, the tires crunch against gravel, and then there’s silence.

Only then does he move.

His hoodie is already on, sleeves tugged down over his wrists. His shoulder aches from where the glass caught him last night, but it’s nothing new. He knows how to deal with it.

It’s not that he doesn’t want anyone to know. He does. God, he does. He just doesn’t want to have to be the one to say it. He wants someone to notice. To ask. To pull the words out of him so he doesn’t have to be the one responsible for breaking the silence.

But that’s not how these things work. People don’t ask questions they don’t want the answers to.

He grabs his bag and steps outside, locking the door behind him. The morning air is warm, but he keeps his hoodie on. He keeps his head down as he walks, sticking to the edges of the sidewalk, avoiding eye contact.

Maybe today will be different. Maybe today, someone will notice.

Or maybe it will just be another day of pretending everything is fine.

***
Rhys steps through the school doors, adjusting his backpack strap over his shoulder. The halls are buzzing with early morning energy—people greeting each other, catching up on whatever they did last night, making plans for the weekend. It’s noisy, but it’s a comforting kind of noise. The kind that makes him feel like he belongs, even if just a little.

“Hey, Bro!” Vaughn’s voice carries over the din, and Rhys turns to see him hurrying toward him, Yvette in tow. Vaughn’s as animated as ever, practically bouncing on his feet. Yvette, ever composed, offers him a knowing smirk.

“Been here all of a week and you’ve already got fans,” she teases, nodding toward a couple of students who glance in Rhys’ direction.

Rhys rolls his eyes but grins. “Yeah, yeah, I’m just that interesting.”

Vaughn adjusts his glasses. “Or it’s the robot arm.”

“Definitely the arm,” Yvette adds, and Rhys huffs a laugh.

They chat near his locker, Vaughn diving into some rant about a new game he’s obsessed with, Yvette filling in details about an upcoming test they should probably study for. It’s normal. Comfortable. A little piece of routine he’s already starting to look forward to. He’s grown to enjoy this, as his first four classes are spent without either of them.

The warning bell rings, and Rhys sighs. “Guess that’s my cue.”

“See you at lunch?” Vaughn asks.

“Yeah, definitely.”

Yvette nods in approval. “Try not to get lost.”

Rhys waves them off with a smirk and starts toward his first class. As he walks, he lets himself believe, just for a moment, that this place might actually start to feel like home.

That is of course until, he’s shoved into a nearby set of lockers.

His back and arm hit the metal lockers with a loud clang. The hallways are empty now, how did they get so vacant so fast? Rhys barely has time to react before a sharp, mocking laugh follows.

“Watch where you’re going, tin can.”

Vasquez. Rich, smug, and exactly the kind of guy who gets off on making people miserable. His designer jacket is crisp, his shoes look like they cost more than Rhys’ entire wardrobe, and his smirk is infuriatingly self-satisfied. Him and his stupid friends have been picking on Rhys since the day he got here. They get joy out of..he doesn’t really know, making his life just a little bit more annoying?

Next to him, Katagawa Jr. leans against the lockers, arms crossed, expression unreadable behind his sleek, rectangular glasses. He doesn’t laugh, but he doesn’t stop it either. He never does. His father is the CEO of Maliwan Corporations. He’s more of a prick than Vasquez, but still, relishes in never having to get his hands dirty.

Rhys exhales sharply, rolling his shoulders as he straightens. “Wow, original. Did you come up with that all by yourself, or did you have to brainstorm with your boyfriend first?”

Vasquez’s smirk widens. “Oh, I don’t know, Katagawa, what do you think? Should I take offense to that?”

Katagawa shrugs, tilting his head. “I think he’s trying to be funny.”

“Adorable,” Vasquez muses, stepping closer, lowering his voice just enough for only Rhys to hear. “You know, you might be cute if you weren’t such a freak.” With a growling pronunciation of the last word, Vasquez jams his fist into Rhys’ gut, causing him to keel over, clutching at his stomach. The two boys laugh before shoving him back up against the locker.

Rhys clenches his jaw, refusing to give Vasquez the reaction he wants. Instead, he just scoffs, and uses his cybernetic to pry Vasquez’s grip from his shoulder. He scoots away, moving around him. “Yeah, well, you might be tolerable if you weren’t such an asshole.”

For a moment, Vasquez looks almost amused. Then, just as Rhys thinks he’s home free, a foot sticks out, and he barely catches himself before face-planting into the tiled floor. Still, it’s not enough, and his face slams against the block. Pain explodes in his nose, hot and immediate, and he rolls over, one hand flying up to catch the blood already spilling down his upper lip.

Vasquez stands there, smirking like he owns the entire school, which, to be fair, he might as well. The designer jacket, the cocky stance, the air of someone who’s never been told no in his life—it’s all there. Next to him, Katagawa Jr. leans against the lockers, watching with detached amusement.

Rhys exhales sharply through his teeth. “Jesus Christ, fuck you Vasquez." His voice comes out more nasal than he wants, thanks to the fresh injury. He practically snarls at the boy, his anger more prevalent than he’s ever let Vasquez see. He’s attempted to just use the tried and true method when it comes to bullies, ignore them. Go about your life, pretend it doens’t bother you. Except, it does bother him. Greatly, actually.

Vasquez shrugs, unfazed. "Hey, had to give you a proper welcome. Consider it a favor."

"Yeah, real hospitable of you," Rhys mutters, glaring up at him. The blood trickling from his nose drips onto his shirt, and he grimaces. "Great. Perfect. Just what I needed today."

Vasquez laughs. "Careful, tin can. Wouldn't want to get that fancy arm of yours all rusty."

Katagawa chuckles, but there’s something tired in it, like even he’s heard this joke too many times.

Rhys doesn’t bother responding. He just pushes past them, storming his way down the desolate hall. He can already feel his nose swelling, the dull throb settling in, and the blood shows no sign of stopping. Fantastic. Guess there’s only one place to go..

***

Rhys pushes open the door to the nurse’s office, his fingers still pressed against his nose, trying to stifle the steady trickle of blood. The familiar sterile scent of disinfectant and bandages fills the air, mingling with the faint scent of lemon-scented wipes and air freshener. The room is quiet, save for the soft hum of a fan in the corner and..the wheezing of another student sitting on one of the cots. He has orange-red hair, and freckles, though they’re contorted in his current state. His wheezing makes even Rhys wince, this kid definitely has some bad asthma..

The nurse, a middle-aged woman with tired eyes and a kind expression, barely looks up from where she’s crouched beside the other boy, rubbing his back gently. She’s dressed in some light colored scrubs, with a cardigan thrown over them. "Sit down, dear. I’ll be with you in a moment," she says. Her voice is soft but firm, practiced from years of dealing with students stumbling in with various ailments.

Rhys moves toward a chair by the window, grabbing some gauze as he goes, and absently noting the boy on the cot—struggling with an inhaler as the nurse instructs him. "Deep breath, Timothy. Hold for three seconds—one, two, three—now exhale slowly. There you go, sweetheart. Let’s try again."

Rhys watches, not out of concern but curiosity. The kid looks familiar. No, not just familiar—he looks like Jack Lawrence. The troublemaker, the smug little shit who always seems to have an answer for everything. He practically forcefully exerts eye rolls out of Rhys every time he swaggers into a classroom. His presence is obnoxious, not in a..he’s annoying kind of way..but in a ‘Rhys either wants to be him or be with him so bad that he would rather hate him than accept that fact.’ Except this kid isn’t loud, isn’t laughing or pushing people’s buttons. He’s hunched over, vulnerable. Nothing like Jack.

Rhys shifts uncomfortably in his chair, pressing the gauze against his nose as he watches the nurse continue to guide Timothy through his breathing exercises. He never pegged Jack as someone with a twin. Then again, Jack wasn’t exactly the sharing type.

The nurse finally stands and pats Timothy on the back. She grabs a nearby breathing mask and holds it to his face. “Sit here for a few minutes.” she instructs, before sticking and oxtimeter on his index finger. She turns to Rhys, moving over to him and giving him a once-over. "Let me see," she says, reaching for more gauze. Rhys tips his head forward, wincing as she gently dabs at his nose. "What happened?"

"Got shoved into a locker," Rhys mutters, eyes darting back to Timothy, who’s now watching him with quiet curiosity.

"That’ll bruise," the nurse remarks, her voice tinged with sympathy. "Keep applying pressure.” she orders. “Sit on a bed, I’ll go get you some ice.” With that, she heads out, presumably towards the cafeteria to retrieve some ice. Rhys moves over and sits down on the cot next to Timothy, whos watching him with curiosity, and perhaps the same expression Rhys had been giving him moments ago.

Timothy pulls the breathing mask from his face, his lungs whine in protest, and Rhys can hear his panting between words as he shifts on the cot. "You’re new," he says quietly.

Rhys nods, pressing the gauze harder to his nose. "Yeah."

"I’m Timothy." He hesitates, glancing at Rhys before adding, "Jack’s twin."

Rhys lets out a short laugh through his nose—painful, but unavoidable. "Yeah, I figured. You don’t really look alike, though."

Timothy smiles faintly, rubbing at the edge of his sleeve. "That’s a good thing."

Rhys isn’t sure what to say to that, so he just nods. Tim moves the breathing mask back onto his face as the nurse reenters. She hands him a fresh wad of gauze and a small bag of ice before she pats his shoulder lightly and steps away to tidy up. The office is quiet again, save for the steady ticking of the clock and the muffled sounds of teachers lecturing in nearby classrooms. Rhys hopes his teachers won’t give him too much hell for being late.

Rhys glances at Timothy once more, taking in the slight tension in his shoulders, the way he keeps his hands hidden in his sleeves. Jack’s twin, huh? He wonders just how different they really are. So far Tim has made an alright impression on him, despite the fact that all Rhys knows is that he’s fuck all like Jack. But then again, that’s a pretty good set of traits to have.

Once the bleeding finally stops, Rhys is sent back to class with a pass from the nurse. Timothy is still there when he leaves, something about his oxygen still only being around 90%. Mr. Hammerlock thankfully isn’t too annoyed with him once he produces the nurse pass, but Rhys is still met with awkward yet knowing looks from his peers. He finds his seat, one near the front, and copies the notes already written on the board.

The rest of his classes go by fairly normally. He disects a rat in Biology, much to Mr. Blanco’s delight, as the entire time he was raving about all the little parts and pieces students were finding. He also got the task of feeding all of Mx. Fl4k’s pets, which is one of his favorite duties, so his day did find some reprieve from it’s horrible morning.

His walk home is going as expected. He listens to his music and walks along to the beat of each song, finding he gets to his destination faster that way.

Once home, he finds that his mom has made his favorite. Apparently the nurse had called her about what happened, so she wanted to do something to cheer him up. Rhys is very grateful..and they spend the rest of the evening watching movies, eating dinner, and then afterwards, slices of his mom’s homemade apple pie..

Chapter 3: September Part II

Notes:

Sorry for taking so long to upload this! School is at it's most stressful point at the moment, so updates for this story and my other borderlands fic are definetly going to be somewhat slow going. I do my best with posting on the weekends..but I still don't have a regular schedule and probably won't in the near future.

Anyway, enjoy cringe boy love, Happy Easter if you celebrate!

Rhys knew the day was going downhill the moment he walked into second period and saw Katagawa Jr. already grinning at him from the back row. It wasn’t a friendly kind of grin. It was the kind of grin that meant something bad was coming—like how cartoon villains smiled right before dropping a piano on someone’s head.

He tried to ignore it, settling into his seat and pulling out his notebook. Just a normal day, he told himself. Just keep your head down and get through it.

But normal wasn’t in the cards today.

By lunch, he’d been pulled into the office, accused of pulling a fire alarm “as a prank,” and slapped with detention before he could even finish explaining that he wasn’t anywhere near the damn alarm. Apparently, Katagawa had an “anonymous” video of Rhys walking suspiciously near the hallway just minutes before the alarm went off. Never mind that he was on his way to the bathroom. Never mind that the video just so happened to cut off the part where Katagawa and Vasquez were lurking nearby, snickering behind their hands.

The principal wasn’t interested in details. Just punishment. So now Rhys was here—again.

The detention room was tucked in the far corner of the school, a sad little space with faded motivational posters and desks arranged in rigid rows like a tiny, forgotten classroom. The air smells musty, and Rhys can practically see the dust floating in the air from sunlight filtering in.

He sank into the first empty chair near the back, glaring at the wall.

“Aw, man. Look who the cat dragged in.”

Rhys stiffened at the voice and didn’t need to turn around to know who it was. Of course Jack was already here.

He heard the screech of another chair as Jack kicked one out and dropped into it with theatrical flair, right next to him.

“I gotta say,” Jack continued, grinning, “I didn’t expect to see you again so soon, Tin Man. Did you miss me already, or is this your new thing?”

Rhys groaned, dragging his flesh hand down his face. “Can we not do this right now?”

Jack just laughed, propping his feet up on the desk and stretching like he owned the place. “Sure, sure. No jokes, no teasing. We’re in serious, tragic backstory mode. Got it.”

Rhys turned to look at him properly, exasperated. “Why are you even in detention again? What did you do this time?”

Jack shrugged like it was the most casual thing in the world. “Apparently, giving Principal Tassiter a sarcastic salute and calling him ‘Your Majesty’ isn’t the respectful discourse they’re hoping for.”

Rhys blinked. “…You’re kidding.”

“I don’t kid.” Jack leaned his chair back dangerously far and grinned. “Totally worth it, though.”

Rhys shook his head, looking back toward the front of the room. This whole place felt like some kind of alternate universe.

“Seriously though,” Jack said after a moment, voice dropping just a notch softer, “Vasquez and Jr. got you, huh?”

Rhys frowned. “…Yeah.”

“Let me guess—faked a video or planted something?”

“Video. Cropped, conveniently missing the part where they were literally five feet away from me.”

Jack let out a sharp, humorless laugh. “Those two are predictable as hell.”

“You could’ve warned me,” Rhys muttered. “Aren’t you in their little clique?”

Jack raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “Their clique? No, no. I’m in my own category, thank you very much. I just float where I want.”

Rhys gave him a skeptical look. “You’re telling me you’re not friends with them?”

Jack’s grin flickered—just for a second—and then he shrugged again. “Let’s just say I tolerate them for entertainment value.”

Rhys wasn’t sure what that meant, but he didn’t have time to press before the silence stretched again, this time heavier. Jack pulled a pen out of his pocket and began twirling it between his fingers, humming a tuneless rhythm under his breath.

Rhys shifted in his seat, awkward and restless. “…So. Do you spend a lot of time in here?”

Jack smirked without looking up. “More than I’d like to admit. It’s cozy, don’t you think?”

“Yeah. Real five-star experience.”

Jack laughed again, and Rhys was startled to find it wasn’t… awful. There was something kind of easy about it. Annoying, sure. But also kind of magnetic.

His thoughts were interrupted when Jack suddenly said, “Hey, by the way—I heard you met my brother.”

Rhys blinked, surprised. “Oh. Yeah. In the nurse’s office. He was… having trouble breathing.”

“His asthma. Yeah.” Jack nodded once, looking briefly serious. “He okay?”

“I think so. The nurse helped him. He seemed alright once the inhaler kicked in.”

Jack didn’t say anything for a second. His gaze had gone a little distant. Then, just like that, the smirk was back. “He’s fragile, that one. Real sensitive. You probably freaked him out just by looking at him.”

Rhys narrowed his eyes. “You really talk about your brother like that?”

Jack rolled his eyes. “Relax. It’s a twin thing. I get to be mean. You don’t.”

Rhys opened his mouth to argue, but then he caught it—that flicker of something beneath Jack’s usual cocky exterior. Something protective.

So instead, he just muttered, “He seemed… nice. Quiet.”

Jack glanced over at him, and for once, the teasing faded from his expression entirely. “Yeah. He is.”

For a moment, it was quiet again. Then Jack slouched further down in his chair with a dramatic sigh.

“Alright, well. Since we’re both stuck here, I’m taking bets. How long you think it’ll take before you start talking to me?”

Rhys snorted despite himself. “I’m not that desperate for a friend.”

“Ouch,” Jack clutched his chest mockingly. “Wounded. Betrayed. Absolutely devastated.”

Rhys tried not to smile, but it tugged at the corner of his mouth anyway.

Just as Rhys was starting to relax—just a little, just enough to stop counting the seconds—he heard the unmistakable sound of dress shoes clicking against linoleum.

Principal Tassiter’s wiry frame appeared in the doorway a second later, his ever-pressed suit looking just a little too tight at the collar. His sharp eyes flicked across the room, landing on Jack first and then Rhys.

“You two,” he said in that pinched, nasal tone that sounded permanently unimpressed. “I’ve got things to handle in my office down the hall, but I’ll be checking in. Try not to set the place on fire.”

Jack gave him a mock salute. “Yessir, Your Majesty.”

Tassiter paused, sighed deeply—clearly rethinking every choice that led to this moment—and turned on his heel.

The moment his footsteps disappeared, Jack threw his head back and groaned. “Ugh, finally. Thought he’d never leave.”

Rhys raised an eyebrow. “You do realize he said he’s coming back, right?”

“Sure,” Jack said, grinning, “but now we can talk without him breathing down our necks.”

“I wasn’t exactly dying to chat.”

Jack placed a hand over his heart. “You wound me.”

Rhys gave him a tired look and leaned forward on his desk, resting his chin on one hand. “Is this what detention is like for you every time?”

“Well, minus the company.” Jack gave him a wink. “You’re a new variable. Kind of fun.”

“Great,” Rhys muttered, “glad I can be your entertainment.”

Jack tilted his head slightly, studying him. “You’re really not used to people like me, huh?”

Rhys blinked. “People like—?”

“Loud. Confident. Devilishly handsome.” He flashed a grin. “You know. The usual.”

Rhys let out a noise that was somewhere between a laugh and a scoff. “You mean annoying. That’s what you meant to say.”

Jack gasped dramatically. “Harsh, Tin Man. I thought we were bonding.”

“We’re in detention together. That’s not bonding, that’s just… unfortunate proximity.”

Jack leaned forward a little, resting his arms on the desk and raising an eyebrow. “Right, right. Unfortunate proximity. Is that why you were staring at me earlier?”

Rhys turned a bit red. “I was not staring.”

“Oh, come on,” Jack said, grinning. “You were giving me the whole what’s-his-deal look.”

“I wasn’t—” Rhys stopped. Then exhaled slowly. “Okay. Maybe I was just confused. You and your brother look exactly alike, minus his hair, and yet you act like polar opposites.”

“Opposites?” Jack looked amused. “That’s putting it very mildly.”

Rhys gave a small shrug. “He’s nice. A lot nicer than you.”

Jack's smirk dropped, just a little, and for a second his expression shifted—something unreadable in the silence that followed.

“Yeah, he is,” he said simply. Then, just as quickly, he steered the topic elsewhere. “So, your arm.”

Rhys blinked. “What?”

Jack gestured loosely. “The cybernetic. Hyperion, yeah?”

Rhys sat up a bit straighter, suddenly on edge. “How do you know that?”

Jack grinned in a way that was just a little too knowing. “It’s kind of hard to miss the design. Hyperion’s got a… very specific style. Plus, none of the other major corps are so advanced with cybernetic tech. They wish they could be what Hyperion is.”

Rhys hesitated, watching him carefully. “Yeah. I guess.”

Jack didn't press. Instead, he leaned back again, eyes still flicking toward Rhys’ arm now and then. “They do good work.. Real flashy. Probably cost a fortune.”

Rhys looked down at his hand—faint gold plating catching the light, etched lines pulsing soft blue from beneath the surface.

“My mom saved up for years,” he said quietly. “I lost my arm in a car accident when I was a kid. Hyperion had a program for… like, extreme trauma cases. She fought to get me on the list.”

Jack didn’t say anything right away, which was strange in itself. When Rhys glanced up, he found Jack watching him—not smug or teasing this time, but thoughtful.

“You're lucky,” Jack said eventually, voice quieter now. “Most people don’t get a second chance like that.”

Rhys shrugged, unsure what to do with the sudden sincerity. “Sometimes it doesn’t feel lucky.”

Jack looked at him for a long moment, then leaned back again, arms crossed loosely over his chest.

“Yeah,” he said, “I know what you mean.”

That surprised Rhys. He almost asked what Jack meant by that, but something about the way Jack looked away stopped him. For a second, Rhys thought he saw something real there—something cracked under the surface—but it disappeared too quickly to catch.

So instead, he said, “You're weird.”

Jack grinned again, the moment gone. “Takes one to know one.”

Rhys shook his head, biting back a smile despite himself. “You’re a pain.”

“And yet,” Jack said, smug as ever, “here you are. Still talking to me.”

Rhys groaned. “This is the longest hour of my life.”

Jack leaned back in his chair again, folding his hands behind his head like a king on a throne. “Get used to it, Tin Man. We’ve got a whole year to go.”

Time passed slowly in the way only detention hours could—like molasses in January. The clock ticked so loudly it felt like it was mocking them, each second dragging its feet just to make a point. Rhys spent some of the time doodling in the margins of his notebook, half-listening as Jack rambled about god-knows-what—some story about stealing a golf cart from gym class last year and somehow getting away with it.

Surprisingly, it wasn’t the worst way to spend an hour.

They lapsed in and out of conversation. Sometimes Rhys offered sarcastic quips, sometimes Jack talked just to fill the space, but the tension from earlier had thinned out into something else—still sharp, still a little charged, but less hostile. Almost… comfortable.

The classroom had gone quiet again when the door finally creaked open and Tassiter stepped back in, his arms full of files and his tie slightly askew like he’d been fighting a printer.

“You two made it through a full hour without any fire alarms, fights, or mysterious gas leaks,” he said dryly. “I’m as shocked as anyone.”

Jack gave him a lazy salute. “We’re model citizens, sir.”

“Don’t push it.” Tassiter waved them toward the door with a sigh. “Go. Before I change my mind.”

Rhys stood up and gathered his things, slinging his bag over his shoulder with a huff. As much as he didn’t hate how detention had turned out, he was still glad it was over.

Jack was already sauntering toward the hallway, tossing a pen into the air and catching it on the way out. Rhys followed a step behind, adjusting the strap of his bag and rubbing his neck.

“Guess I’ll be walking,” he muttered mostly to himself, already fishing for his headphones.

Jack stopped mid-step and turned slightly. “Wait. You walk home?”

Rhys shrugged. “Yeah. It’s not that far.”

Jack gave him a look. “You got bloodied by Vasquez and framed by his evil gremlin sidekick. And now you’re gonna walk home? Alone? With a nose that’s probably still halfway broken?”

Rhys blinked. “I mean… yeah?”

“Nope. Not happening.” Jack jabbed a thumb over his shoulder. “C’mon. I’m driving.”

Rhys frowned. “You don’t have to—”

“I know I don’t have to.” Jack rolled his eyes, already heading toward the side parking lot. “But I’m doing it anyway, so suck it up.”

Rhys hesitated at the doorway, torn between pride and the appeal of not walking thirty minutes with a bruised face and a sore everything.

“…Fine,” he muttered, trailing after Jack. “But if your truck smells like Axe body spray and bad decisions, I’m out.”

Jack grinned without looking back. “Oh, baby, it reeks of both.”

Rhys groaned, already regretting everything. And yet… he was still following.

He told himself it was just because his legs were tired. Definitely not because of the smug, infuriating, kind of charming idiot leading the way.

Nope. Definitely not that.

Jack’s truck was exactly what Rhys expected and nothing like it at the same time.

Rhys sank into the passenger seat, fingers curled around the edge of the seatbelt. The truck didn’t smell like Axe, thankfully, but there was also a half-empty bag of sour gummy worms in the cupholder, an air freshener shaped like a vault symbol dangling from the mirror, and a blanket crumpled up in the backseat that looked suspiciously like it had never once been washed. The seats squeaked a little when Rhys slid in, and the dashboard lights flickered when Jack turned the key.

The engine roared to life like a beast clearing its throat, and Jack threw the truck into gear with casual confidence.

Jack pulled out of the school lot with the confidence of someone who’d definitely ignored the stop sign more than once in his life.

“So,” Jack said, one hand on the wheel, the other draped lazily over the top. “You live far?”

“Twenty minutes on foot,” Rhys said. “Less in a car. Unless you drive like a maniac.”

“I take offense to that. I drive beautifully.” Jack glanced over. “And if you throw up in here, you’re walking next time.”

Rhys gave a snort and turned toward the window. The streets blurred by in the early evening light, warm and gold. The silence stretched for a moment before curiosity got the better of him.

“So…” Rhys started, “what about your brother? Timothy. Does he drive himself?”

Jack didn’t answer right away. His jaw tensed a little as he adjusted his grip on the steering wheel.

“Nah,” he said eventually. “He doesn’t go the same route. We don’t… live together.”

That surprised Rhys. “Oh. I just assumed…”

“Most people do,” Jack said, shrugging like it didn’t matter. “After the divorce, Dad kept the house. Mom bailed a couple months later. She left Tim with our grandma.”

Rhys blinked. “Wait, like—left left?”

Jack nodded once, lips pressed in a tight line. “Yeah. Just packed up and split.”

Rhys stared for a second. The way Jack said it was too casual—like he’d rehearsed it to sound like it didn’t hurt anymore.

“Damn,” Rhys said softly. “That’s… a lot.”

Jack gave a dry laugh. “Yeah, well. Family’s fun like that.”

Rhys shifted in his seat. “My mom raised me by herself too. My dad took off when I was little. I don’t even remember him.”

“Single moms, man,” Jack said, glancing over again with something almost like respect. “They’re the real MVPs.”

Rhys smiled faintly. “She works a lot. Still makes time for me, though.”

Jack was quiet for a moment. “Tim’s grandma—our grandma—she’s not exactly… great with the whole parenting thing. Tim mostly takes care of himself.”

“That sucks.”

Jack shrugged again, but there was a tension behind it. “He’s tough. He’s got asthma, but he’s tougher than he looks.”

Rhys glanced over at him, caught off guard by the honesty.

Jack caught his gaze, then smirked to lighten the mood. “Don’t get too sappy on me now, Tin Man.”

“Right,” Rhys said, lips twitching into a small smile. “Wouldn’t want to ruin your rep.”

“Exactly.” Jack flipped on his blinker with a little flourish. “Let’s keep the crying to a minimum. You can sob into your pillow later, if you must.”

Rhys rolled his eyes but didn’t look away from him for a moment longer than necessary.

Jack was still cocky, still sharp around the edges—but Rhys was starting to see what might be under all of that, too.

And for the first time since transferring to this weird new school, that didn’t feel quite as scary.