𝔽ℝ𝔸𝔾𝕀𝕃𝔼

❀

OSYAIR POV

The school bell rings, signaling the start of the day, but Mercy and Osyair barely hear it over the roar of their thoughts. Their world has already begun, the two of them locked in their own space. It's a weird thing, the way they're connected—two people so different in many ways, yet somehow perfectly aligned in the chaos that is their minds.

Osyair stands at the entrance of the school, his hand reaching out to adjust his collar, his fingers trembling ever so slightly. His heart beats a little too fast, his stomach tightening with every passing moment. But then Mercy steps beside him, towering over him as usual.

Mercy's hand rests lightly on the small of Osyair's back. "Ready to go in?" he asks, his voice like silk, deep and soothing. He looks down at Osyair, a hint of a smirk playing on his lips.

Osyair's dark eyes dart up to meet his, the worry in them visible. "I guess. If you're with me..."

Mercy's smirk softens into something more genuine. "I'm always with you."

It's not just words. It's something deeper. Osyair knows it. Mercy doesn't say things like that unless he means them.

They walk into the school together, the noise of lockers opening, people gossiping, and the rush of students filling the halls a stark contrast to the quiet they share. To everyone else, they're just two high schoolers heading to class, but to each other, it feels like the world stops whenever they're close. Everything fades when they're together.

They don't hold hands in public—not openly. But their fingers brush when no one is looking, a silent reminder of what they are to each other. Osyair doesn't like the idea of being watched. He's too fragile. Too much of a mess.

The bell rings again, and they move quickly to their first class. The walk feels too long. But at least they're together.

Classroom
The classroom is filled with students sitting at their desks, talking and laughing, all going through their own little routines. But Osyair feels none of the calm that they seem to possess. His body is on edge. His hands are clenched into fists beneath the desk, and his foot is tapping rapidly. His gaze flickers toward Mercy, sitting beside him, and something inside him steadies just a little.

Mercy looks over at him, catching his anxious fidgeting. "You good?" he asks in a low voice, just loud enough for Osyair to hear. He tilts his head, his dark eyes full of concern. Mercy might be the calm one, but when it comes to Osyair, it's like he can feel every ripple in the air.

"I'm fine," Osyair whispers back, trying to focus on the teacher at the front of the room, but the words don't feel true. His thoughts are running wild, his brain bouncing between images and emotions. The room feels too small. His heart is too loud. He wants to escape but doesn't know how. So he turns to Mercy, a small, pleading look in his eyes.

Mercy's hand, large and steady, moves under the desk and rests gently on Osyair's. The warmth of his touch anchors Osyair immediately. He inhales sharply, the calmness washing over him, though he can't stop the tightness in his chest. Mercy doesn't say anything. He just holds Osyair's hand, his thumb tracing circles over his skin, and the world becomes a little less scary.

A quiet whisper comes from Osyair's lips: "Thank you."

Mercy's lips curl upward slightly, his eyes softening. "I'm not going anywhere," he murmurs. "Ever."

Osyair's heart skips a beat at the promise, and for the rest of class, he holds onto that feeling—the security of knowing Mercy is there. It's the one thing that makes the world seem bearable.

After Class

The school day feels endless, the hours dragging by. The crowded halls feel oppressive, but Osyair is never alone. Not while Mercy's by his side. At lunch, they head to a quiet corner in the cafeteria. Mercy grabs their food, his tall frame cutting through the crowd like it's nothing. Osyair follows him, staying close, his hand hovering near Mercy's sleeve. It's a gesture of closeness, a silent plea for Mercy to keep him grounded.

They sit at a small table, the noise of the cafeteria fading into the background as they settle into their little bubble.

Mercy's eyes catch Osyair's fidgeting again, the way his fingers trace patterns on the edge of his tray, the way his leg bounces beneath the table. It's like the whole world is inside Osyair's mind and he can't shut it off. But Mercy doesn't press him. He simply reaches over, grabbing Osyair's hand, his thumb rubbing soothingly over the back of his palm.

"Hey," Mercy says softly, his voice still as smooth as velvet. "Look at me."

Osyair's head lifts, his dark eyes meeting Mercy's. There's a small flicker of worry in them, but also a deep trust.

"You don't have to do this alone," Mercy murmurs. "I'm right here. No matter what."

It's a promise, just like the one he made this morning, and Osyair knows it's not a lie. Mercy doesn't lie to him. Mercy is his anchor, the only thing keeping him from floating away into his own head.

"I don't know how to do this without you," Osyair admits quietly, the words slipping out before he can stop them. "You're all I have."

Mercy's eyes soften, and his voice drops lower, almost a growl. "And you're all I need, Osyair. Don't ever forget that."

The weight of Mercy's words wraps around Osyair like a warm blanket. He feels his chest tighten with emotion, and his heart beats in his throat. For once, he doesn't feel so alone. He's not broken when Mercy's here.