The airport was cold in a way that had nothing to do with temperature. Fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, casting a sterile glow on polished floors and tired faces. Eli walked a few steps behind his parents, his wheeled suitcase trailing obediently behind him like a quiet shadow. The handle rattled slightly with each step, a sound he'd come to associate with leaving.
His mother chatted with his father about the new apartment—something about the view and how close it was to the school. Eli didn't listen. He'd heard it all before. New city, new school, new start. The words had lost their meaning after the third move. Now, they were just background noise, like the hum of escalators or the distant call for boarding.
They were flying to a town Eli had never seen, one he'd only Googled once late at night. It looked green and quiet, nestled near woods and hills. His father had been transferred again—some regional office, some promotion. Eli didn't ask for details. He'd learned early on that asking didn't change anything.
He looked detached, almost ghostlike in the crowd. Pale skin, soft features, and a fringe that fell just above his lashes gave him the kind of delicate beauty that made strangers glance twice. He wore a loose hoodie and jeans, sleeves pulled over his hands, posture slightly hunched—not out of shyness, but habit. At 175 cm, he wasn't short, but there was something about him that made people instinctively want to protect him. Like he might disappear if you looked away.
He looked like someone who belonged in a fantasy novel, not a crowded airport. And maybe that's why he clung to them—books filled with vampires, werewolves, and cursed love. They were his escape, his armor. In stories, the gentle boy was often the one the monster fell for. In real life, the monsters were just boys with fists and cruel laughter.
At his last school—another all-boys institution with too much testosterone and too little empathy—Eli had been the easy target. He wasn't loud. He didn't fight back. He read during lunch breaks and kept to himself. That was enough.
He remembered the locker room: the way they'd snatch his towel, laugh at his body, call him names that stuck like gum under a desk. "Princess," "softie," "fairy." One boy had cornered him once, pressed him against the wall and whispered, "Bet you like this, huh?" Eli hadn't cried. He never did. But he'd gone home and scrubbed his skin until it burned.
He never told his parents. His father was always busy—meetings, transfers, promotions. His mother tried, but Eli didn't want her to worry. What could she do? Complain to the school? That would only make it worse. So he stayed quiet. Learned to disappear. Learned to endure.
Now, as he stood in line for boarding, he felt the familiar ache of uncertainty. A new school meant new faces, new risks. Would they be the same? Would they smell weakness like blood in water?
But beneath the anxiety, there was something else. A flicker of relief. He was leaving. Escaping. The boys who made him feel small wouldn't be there. Maybe this time, he could breathe.
His fingers curled around the worn spine of the book in his hoodie pocket—Moonblood, a story about a werewolf who fell in love with a human boy. Eli had read it five times. He liked the way the werewolf protected the boy, even when he was dangerous. Even when he was afraid.
His mother turned to him suddenly, brushing a strand of hair from his forehead. "You okay, sweetheart?"
Eli nodded. "Yeah."
She smiled, but her eyes lingered on him a moment longer. She always seemed to sense when something was off, but never pushed. Eli loved her for that.
His father was already walking ahead, phone pressed to his ear, talking about logistics and timelines. Eli watched him disappear into the crowd, tall and confident, always moving forward. Eli wondered if he'd ever feel that certain about anything.
The gate opened. His parents walked ahead. Eli followed, eyes on the floor, heart somewhere between dread and hope.
As the plane lifted off, he stared out the window at the shrinking city below. He imagined the moon rising over the new town, imagined shadows moving through the trees. Somewhere out there, someone might be waiting. Someone who didn't laugh at softness. Someone who saw it as strength.
Somewhere in the clouds above, a full moon waited.