The library, usually a sanctuary of quiet concentration, felt thick with unspoken words. Liam sat across from Ethan, ostensibly reviewing geometry proofs, but the textbook remained stubbornly closed. The air between them crackled with the aftermath of their shared project – the painstakingly built miniature replica of the Globe Theatre that had actually, surprisingly, won first prize at the school fair.

The victory should have been sweet. Instead, it tasted like ash in Liam’s mouth.

He could feel the weight of eyes on them, subtle glances that lingered a moment too long. The whispers had started almost immediately after their project was announced the winner. Whispers that snaked through the dining hall, clung to the air in the hallways, and seeped even into the relative privacy of the library.

“You’re quiet,” Ethan observed, his brow furrowed with concern. He’d tossed a worn tennis ball idly into the air and caught it, the rhythmic thump a familiar counterpoint to the library's hushed atmosphere.

Liam forced a smile. “Just…concentrating.”

Ethan snorted, a sound that thankfully remained below the librarian's radar. “Right. And I’m concentrating on proving that Shakespeare was actually a collective of highly intelligent squirrels.” He tossed the ball again. “Seriously, Liam, what’s wrong?”

Liam hesitated. How much should he say? How much *could* he say without shattering the fragile peace they’d managed to build? He glanced around, confirming that Mrs. Abernathy, the librarian, was engrossed in a tome about the mating habits of Galapagos tortoises.

“Have you…noticed anything different lately?” Liam asked, keeping his voice low.

Ethan’s eyes narrowed. “Different how? Besides the fact that the entire school now thinks we’re joined at the hip?”

That was close to the truth, far closer than Liam was comfortable admitting, even to himself. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “It’s just…there seem to be a lot of…rumors.”

Ethan’s expression hardened. He knew. “Rumors about what, Liam? About the amazing Globe Theatre we built? About my unparalleled skills with miniature sets? Or perhaps about the fact that the saintly Head Boy seems to be spending an awful lot of time with the school’s designated delinquent?”

The sarcasm was a shield, Liam realized, a defense mechanism against the inevitable sting of prejudice. He reached across the table and placed his hand over Ethan's, stilling the rhythmic toss of the tennis ball.

“Don’t,” he said softly. “Don’t pretend it doesn’t bother you. It shouldn’t bother either of us, but…it does.”

Ethan looked down at their joined hands, his jaw tightening. “It bothers me that people are nosy, judgmental pricks. It doesn’t bother me what they think about *us*.” He said the word "us" with deliberate emphasis, as if testing the sound of it.

But Liam saw the flicker of vulnerability in his eyes, the almost imperceptible tremble in his hand beneath his own. He squeezed gently.

“It’s more than just nosiness, Ethan. It’s…Julian.”

Ethan’s head snapped up. “Julian? What’s he got to do with this?”

“He’s been…stirring things up,” Liam said, choosing his words carefully. “He’s been…spreading rumors. Suggesting…things.”

Julian Thorne. Liam had always considered him a minor annoyance, a privileged peacock preening for attention. He was handsome in a conventionally boring way, captain of the rowing team, and perpetually vying with Liam for academic supremacy. He also harbored an unrequited crush on… well, pretty much any girl who breathed. The idea that Julian might see Liam and Ethan’s budding…friendship as a threat was almost laughable.

Almost.

“Suggesting what, exactly?” Ethan pressed, his voice dangerously low.

Liam took a deep breath. “That we’re…involved. That our…project was just an excuse to…be together.” He hated saying the words aloud, giving them form and substance.

Ethan’s face darkened. He stood up abruptly, scattering geometry proofs and causing Mrs. Abernathy to glare at them over her reading glasses.

“Where are you going?” Liam asked, his voice sharp with alarm.

“To have a little chat with our friend Julian,” Ethan said, his jaw clenched.

Liam shot out of his chair and grabbed Ethan’s arm. “No! Ethan, don’t. You can’t just confront him. That will only make things worse.”

“Worse how, Liam? By finally telling him what I think of him? By letting him know that he can’t just spread lies and get away with it?”

“Yes! Worse that way!” Liam argued, his voice barely above a whisper. “Think about what the Headmaster would say. Another brawl? Another suspension? It’s exactly what Julian wants. He wants to get you expelled, Ethan.” He paused, then added, softer, “He wants to get *us* in trouble.”

Ethan stared at Liam, his anger warring with something else, something deeper. Finally, he let out a frustrated sigh and slumped back into his chair.

“Fine,” he said, his voice tight. “Fine. But he’s not getting away with this.”

The rest of the afternoon was strained. Liam tried to focus on his studies, but he kept catching Ethan’s eye, seeing the simmering anger beneath the surface. He knew that Ethan was a powder keg, and Julian Thorne was playing with matches.

That evening, at dinner, the rumors seemed to coalesce into a tangible presence. Liam could feel the judging stares, the whispered comments that followed him and Ethan as they walked to their usual table. Julian, sitting with his cronies near the head of the dining hall, caught Liam’s eye and smirked.

Liam ignored him, forcing himself to focus on his plate of surprisingly edible shepherd’s pie.

“I can’t believe they’re actually talking about it openly now,” Ethan muttered, picking at his food.

“Just ignore them,” Liam said, trying to sound more confident than he felt.

But ignoring them was proving increasingly difficult. A particularly loud burst of laughter from Julian’s table followed by a pointed glance in their direction made Ethan flinch.

Liam saw red. He stood up abruptly, his chair scraping against the floor, and walked purposefully towards Julian's table.

He could feel Ethan’s hand on his arm, trying to pull him back, but he ignored it. He had to put a stop to this.

He reached Julian’s table and stood, towering over the smaller boy. Julian looked up, his smirk widening.

“Liam,” he said, his voice dripping with mock surprise. “What a pleasure. Come to join us?”

“Just a word, Julian,” Liam said, his voice dangerously calm. “About the rumors.”

Julian raised an eyebrow. “Rumors? I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Liam leaned closer, his voice barely audible above the din of the dining hall. “Don’t play dumb. You know exactly what I’m talking about. You need to stop.”

Julian laughed, a high-pitched, grating sound. “Stop what, Liam? Stop stating the obvious? Everyone can see what’s going on between you and…the renegade.” He spat the word “renegade” like a curse.

Liam’s fist clenched. He wanted to punch Julian, to wipe that smug look off his face. But he knew he couldn’t. He took a deep breath, struggling to control his anger.

“It’s none of your business,” he said, his voice trembling slightly. “And it’s not true.”

Julian’s eyes narrowed. “Oh, really? Then why do you look so guilty?”

Before Liam could respond, Ethan stepped forward, placing himself between Liam and Julian.

“Because you’re a pathetic little man, Julian,” Ethan said, his voice icy. “And you’re jealous. Jealous that Liam would rather spend time with me than listen to your boring stories about rowing.”

Julian’s face flushed crimson. “You think you’re so special, don’t you, Hayes? You think you can just waltz in here and steal everything that belongs to me?”

“Steal what?” Ethan challenged, his eyes blazing. “Your popularity? Your privilege? Your complete lack of personality?”

Julian lunged forward, grabbing Ethan by the collar. “You’re going to regret saying that, Hayes.”

Liam reacted instantly, pushing Julian away from Ethan. “Get your hands off him!”

The dining hall erupted in chaos. Students jumped to their feet, shouting and pointing. The prefects rushed towards them, their faces grim.

Liam knew that he had made a mistake. He had let his anger get the better of him, and now he was in serious trouble.

But as he looked at Ethan, standing beside him, his eyes filled with a mixture of anger and concern, Liam knew that he wouldn’t trade this moment for anything. He had stood up for Ethan, and that was all that mattered.

He felt a surge of defiance course through him, a feeling that was becoming increasingly familiar. He might be the Head Boy, the epitome of everything Crestwood stood for, but he was also starting to realize that maybe, just maybe, he was a renegade too. And perhaps, that wasn't such a bad thing after all.