---
The next Monday, school felt like a new world — except Scott's stomach still twisted as they pulled into the parking lot together.
"Are you sure?" Scott asked, voice small. He hated how small it sounded.
Brian glanced over — that same steady look Scott was starting to trust again. His fingers squeezed Scott's knee.
"I'm done hiding," he said. "If they have something to say, they can say it to my face."
---
Word had already spread.
Of course it had. They'd both been reckless — the rainstorm, the confession, the fact that Brian didn't sneak Scott out at some ungodly hour but let him walk out the front door like he belonged there.
When they stepped into the hallway, heads turned.
Scott's skin prickled under the stares — the whispers that bounced off the lockers like spitballs.
There were wide eyes, fake coughs, muffled giggles, and a few disgusted looks from the same boys who once fist-bumped Brian every day.
Scott ducked his head, ready to bolt to his first class — but Brian caught his hand.
Just like that.
Out in the open.
Their fingers twined together — a promise for everyone to see.
---
At first, the whole hallway seemed to stop.
Nicky rounded the corner with her backpack slung low, clocking the scene immediately. A slow grin spread across her face — relief and mischief and pride all in one.
"Took you long enough," she mouthed to Brian, flicking her eyes to their joined hands.
---
Someone near the lockers — Mark, from the basketball team — gave an ugly snort.
"Damn, Drake. Didn't know you liked playing for that team."
A couple of the other boys laughed.
It was the kind of thing that would have gutted Brian before — the kind of thing that would have made him let go, slip away, pretend none of this was real.
But not today.
Brian let go of Scott's hand — only to swing an arm around his shoulders instead, pulling him tight into his side like he was daring the whole damn world to try him.
"Yeah, Mark," Brian shot back, his voice cool but loud enough for everyone to hear. "I do. And you got a problem with that?"
The hallway went dead quiet.
Mark just scoffed, looking away.
Brian didn't. His grip tightened on Scott, his fingers drumming a gentle rhythm into the curve of his shoulder — I got you. I got you.
---
Scott's throat closed up. He'd dreamed of this — wished for it so many times it had hurt to hope.
And now here was Brian, 6'3" of unapologetic, ex–golden-boy confidence, saying Fuck it to every rumor and every whisper.
"Brian…" Scott murmured, breath catching.
Brian leaned down, pressing his lips to Scott's temple — right there, in front of everyone.
"No more secrets," Brian whispered against his skin. "You're mine. They can deal with it."
---
By the time the bell rang, the whispers were still there. They'd probably never stop.
But so was the warmth in Scott's chest — the burn that came with being loved loudly, for once.
Nicky flashed him a thumbs-up as she passed them in the hall. CJ, Zeke, and Dylan lingered by Scott's locker, eyes wide, a little awkward — but they didn't shy away. They slapped Brian's shoulder. They hugged Scott tight. Like they were saying: If he's yours, he's ours too.
---
In that moment, Scott realized something.
The world could gossip, could point, could spit.
But Brian was done hiding.
And so was he.
And if that meant they had to fight the whole world together — so be it.