Archive of Our Own

The cafeteria at St. Cassian’s was busy in the way it always was. Sunlight slanted through the tall windows along the far wall, glinting on polished floors and the gold-threaded crests stitched onto navy blazers. The scent of fried potatoes and warm bread hung in the air, a mix that never failed to make Kyle’s stomach rumble.

He slouched at the end of one of the long tables, tie loosened and collar slightly askew. His tray was half-finished; fries gone in a blur, the rest of the meal slowly disappearing under thoughtful bites.

Across from him, Luc sat straighter, hands precise as he turned a small plastic packet over and over, examining it. The noise of the cafeteria barely seemed to touch him; he belonged more to the packet than the room. 

Kyle watched him for a moment, amusement tugging at the corner of his mouth. “…you planning to interrogate it, or…?”

Luc looked up, eyebrows knitting. “What…this is?”

“Ranch.” Kyle leaned forward, snatching the packet from him and flipping it once between his fingers. “Salad dressing.”

Luc blinked, brow furrowed.

“For the lettuce,” Kyle said, already tearing it open. “You put it on…makes it not taste like crap.”

Luc’s lips pressed together. “Why…white?” His hands hovered over the dressing, unsure if it was safe.

Kyle snorted, shaking a little of the dressing into the corner of Luc’s salad. “It’s good, Benny. Just try it.” 

Luc studied the pale drizzle like it was a chemistry experiment. “Is…like milk.”

Kyle shrugged, grinning. “Well…there’s buttermilk in it.”

Luc’s eyes went wide, almost horrified, as if Kyle had grown another head right there on the table. 

“Here.” Kyle nudged the tray closer to Luc. “If you don’t like it, I’ll see if I can dig up some vinaigrette.”

Luc gave a small nod. “Okay…merci.”

Kyle nodded like it was no big deal, leaning back and letting the cafeteria noise wash over them.

“Scratch that…” Kyle added a beat later, eyes flicking across the room. “Coach Casey is on lunch duty today.” He spotted one of their assistant coaches hovering near the salad dressings. “I don’t wanna deal with him until practice.”

Luc swallowed a small bite, chewing slowly, then looked at Kyle with a puzzled expression.

“Because he’s dramatic as hell,” Kyle explained, as if reading Luc’s mind. “You’d think I’d insulted his entire bloodline just for discussing the Power Play yesterday.”

Luc’s lips twitched, but he kept his gaze on the salad. “You say to him…system is…stupid,” he said softly.

“It is stupid,” Kyle confirmed.

“Is…different,” Luc corrected after a half-second pause, searching for the right word. Then he gave a small nod, accepting it.

Kyle rolled his eyes. “Yeah, well…same thing.”

Luc shook his head faintly, a small, private smile tugging at his lips, like he was quietly amused at something only he could see. He opened his mouth to say more, but then…

“Hey, Frenchy.”

The words cut through the cafeteria like a knife. 

Kyle’s head snapped up before Luc even had a chance to react.

Preston. That little snob Kyle could never stand. He strode toward their table with the air of someone who owned the place; blazer crisp, hair impossibly perfect for a school day, that effortless smirk already plastered on his face. He didn’t ask. Didn’t hesitate. Just sat, as if Kyle’s glare, daggers all the way, were invisible. 

Luc looked up, expression calm. “Hello,” he said, perfectly polite.

Kyle didn’t answer right away. He just watched. Carefully. Every slight movement, every flicker of Preston’s grin, every impossible perfection. He measured, assessed, waited.

Preston’s gaze didn’t waver. Like this, sitting there…invading their space, was perfectly normal. “So…that French test tomorrow.”

Luc gave a small nod. “Yes…should be okay.”

“Yeah?” Preston laughed, a short, sharp puff of air. “Maybe for you.”

Kyle’s fingers tightened against the edge of the table, knuckles whitening. Maybe it was nothing. Maybe. But the tone, the smirk…he couldn’t help feeling insulted on Luc’s behalf.

From Kyle’s point of view, Preston had always been this way, a parasite in class, taking advantage of Luc’s patience and kindness. He cared about nothing but himself, nothing beyond scraping through French with a passing grade while using anyone he needed to get there. And Luc…Luc was too polite, too trusting to see it. But Kyle did. And every fiber of him bristled at the thought.

“Listen,” Preston lowered his voice, leaning just enough to make it feel conspiratorial. “I’m kinda screwed. Didn’t really, uh…get around to studying much yet.”

Luc’s brows drew together, a flicker of concern crossing his face. “I help,” he said quickly, voice slightly higher than usual. “We, uh- study…together.” His hand lifted, palm up, motioning between them to emphasize the word. Mostly to convince himself he’d said it right.

“Nah, man. Too late for me.” Preston waved him off, already digging into his pocket. “I was thinking…something easier.”

He produced a crisp, folded bill and tapped it lightly against the table, the motion deliberate, calculated.

Kyle’s jaw clenched. The rich snob. He and Luc were here on athletic scholarships…this was a school most kids only dreamed of. And this jerk thought tossing money on the table would buy Luc’s help? No. Not on Kyle’s watch.

“You sit next to me,” the kid said, smirk in place. “Just let me see your answers. Easy. No one’s gonna notice.”

Luc glanced at the crisp bill, then back at him. No offense. No anger. Just…confusion.

“Is not…” He paused, frowning, trying to find the words. “Allowed.”

Preston rolled his eyes. “Yeah, no kidding. That’s why I’m paying you.”

Luc shook his head, firmer this time. He nudged his tray forward an inch, a small, careful line drawn between them.

“I…no. No do that,” he said, voice steady but hesitant. “But I help. Tonight? Not so hard if…practice little bit-”

“I don’t need a tutor,” Preston cut in sharply, annoyance flashing bright in his tone. “I need to pass.”

Kyle leaned forward now, his patience gone. Every ounce of calm replaced with that quiet, lethal authority. “Then you should study,” he said flatly. 

Preston finally looked at him. There was a beat, brief, almost imperceptible, but loaded enough to feel like it stretched the air between them. Then the smirk returned.

“Relax, Barnes,” he said lightly. “Wasn’t talking to you.”

Kyle didn’t blink. “Well, now I’m talking to you…Hale,” he said. 

Something in that tone hit. Preston paused, just for a heartbeat, before scoffing under his breath.

“Whatever,” he muttered, shoving the bill back into his pocket with a sharp flick. “Your loss, Frenchy.”

Luc offered a small, apologetic smile. “If you change mind-” 

But Preston was already striding away, leaving the cafeteria noise behind him.

Kyle watched him go, eyes following Preston across the cafeteria until he melted into the crowd. Only then did Kyle let himself lean back, shoulders loosening slightly.

Luc picked up his fork, continuing as if nothing had happened, calm in a way that made Kyle’s tension stick out all the more.

Kyle let out a slow breath through his nose. “I don’t like him.”

Luc tilted his head, fork paused mid-air. “You say this for many people,” he noted softly.

“Yeah, well,” Kyle said, eyes narrowing just a fraction. “I especially don’t like him.”

Luc considered that, a small shrug lifting his shoulders. “He is…how you say…stressed.”

Kyle huffed a laugh, half disbelief, half exasperation. “No. He’s not stressed. He’s lazy.”

Luc didn’t argue. He just chewed thoughtfully, letting Kyle stew quietly beside him.

Kyle’s gaze drifted back to where Preston had been standing. His fingers tapped against the table, slow at first, then a little faster, like a metronome marking a plan forming in his head. 

He wished he could teach the kid a lesson. Make him stop pestering Luc for every little thing in this class.

Then he paused. A spark hit him, quick, and too good to let go.

“Hey,” Kyle said, voice low.

Luc looked up, brow furrowed.

“What if…” Kyle tilted his head, letting the words hang for a beat. “…you did take the money?”

Luc blinked, confusion written across his face. “What?”

A corner of Kyle’s mouth tugged upward. There was a playful curve to it, but beneath the surface…something deliberate.

“I’ve got an idea.” 

Kyle and Luc stood in the language wing hallway, the space alive with noise; lockers slamming, voices overlapping, the sharp crack of binders snapping shut. Students weaved through the crowd in loose currents, shoulder to shoulder, the air thick with last-minute nerves.

A few yards ahead, Preston leaned against the wall like he didn’t have a single worry in the world. Laughing. Relaxed. Untouchable.

So much for being screwed.

Kyle clocked it immediately. Of course the guy had a backup plan. Someone like him always did. Parents, money, connections, whatever it took to make sure he never actually had to deal with consequences.

Kyle’s jaw shifted, a slow grind.

“You still have time, you know,” he said under his breath, glancing sideways at Luc. “To go through with the plan.”

Luc didn’t look at him. His gaze stayed forward. “Plan?” he echoed quietly. Then, with a small shake of his head, “Not plan. Is…trick.”

Kyle huffed under his breath, then reached out, fingers closing gently around Luc’s bicep. Not tight. Just enough to turn him.

“Luc.”

Luc stilled.

Kyle stepped in closer, protectively. 

“He’s been using you all year,” he said. “You know that, right?”

Luc didn’t answer.

Kyle held his gaze anyway, pressing on. “All those ‘study sessions’?” he said. “He doesn’t care if he learns it. He just wants you to do the work so he doesn’t have to.”

Luc’s eyes dropped, just for a second, like the words had somewhere to land. “I not mind helping,” he said softly.

“Yeah,” Kyle replied, just as quiet. “Helping. Not carrying him.”

A couple of students brushed past them, shoulders knocking lightly, the hallway noise swelling and fading in waves around them.

Kyle eased back just a fraction, his grip gone. 

“You’ve been trying to teach him the right way this whole time,” he said. “And it’s not sticking. Maybe he needs a different kind of lesson.” 

Luc finally turned to him, uncertainty plain in his eyes.

He exhaled slowly. “Okay…” he said, thinking it through out loud. “Say I do this…plan.” A slight shake of his head. “I make…bad answers. He copies.”

He paused, brows pulling together. “Then…my grade…is bad too, no?”

Kyle’s mouth twitched, trying so hard not to smile.

“One test,” he said. “You’ve got, what, a hundred in the class?”

Luc hesitated. “…Ninety-nine.”

Kyle let out a quiet breath, shaking his head, a hint of a grin slipping through. “Yeah. Exactly. You can survive one bad grade.”

Luc’s eyes flicked back to him. “On purpose.”

Kyle gave a small shrug, like it was nothing.

“He cheats, he fails,” Kyle said simply. “Maybe next time he studies. Maybe he stops treating you like his personal answer sheet.”

Luc didn’t answer.

But he didn’t move, either.

Kyle caught that. He pressed, just a little more. 

“And,” he added, tone lighter now as he nudged Luc’s shoulder, “you get paid.”

That earned him a look.

Luc’s mouth twitched, barely there, but enough. “This your argument?”

“I’m just saying,” Kyle went on, tilting his head, “you’ve been talking about those hockey cards for, like, two weeks now?”

Luc exhaled softly, shaking his head, something amused slipping through despite himself. “Incroyable.”

Kyle caught the shift. “I’ll take that as a yes,” he said.

Luc opened his mouth. He paused. Closed it again.

His gaze flicked, just briefly, back to Preston; still laughing, still untouched by anything outside his own orbit.

“…And if…” Luc started, his voice more careful. “He wants money back?”

“No refunds,” Kyle said, tone final. “He’s paying to copy. That’s exactly what he’s gonna get. And if he says anything to you, I’ve got you.”

Kyle paused a beat, holding it there to make sure Luc heard him loud and clear. 

“He doesn’t touch you.”

Luc didn’t look away this time. He held Kyle’s gaze, searching it. 

“…Promise?” Luc asked. 

Kyle didn’t hesitate. “Yeah,” he said. “I promise.”

Luc held his gaze for a second longer. Then he exhaled slowly, like he was stepping off a ledge he’d already decided to jump from.

“This is…bad idea,” he murmured.

Kyle’s mouth tipped into a crooked grin. “Maybe.”

Luc glanced once more toward Preston, then back to Kyle.

“One test,” Luc said finally, giving a reluctant nod.

Kyle’s grin broke wider, almost triumphant.

“Atta boy,” he said.

The classroom door swung open, and the line began to move. Students funneled forward, voices dropping as they crossed the threshold.

Kyle reached out, giving Luc’s shoulder a quick squeeze.

“Alright,” he murmured. “Make eye contact. Give him a nod, like you’ve changed your mind. I’ll sell it. Like I’m not on board.” 

Luc rolled his eyes slightly at the performance of it all, but he didn’t object.

The hallway tightened into a bottleneck, bodies pressing closer as the noise compressed.

“Now or never,” Kyle muttered.

Luc shot him a look, half hesitation, half this is insane.

But he looked past Kyle. Found Preston. Then a small, deliberate flick of his head.

“See you on the flip side,” Kyle whispered.

He turned for the door, timing it just right. And as Preston moved toward Luc, Kyle met him head-on. Their shoulders collided, harder than necessary. Partly to sell it. Partly because he’d been wanting to do that all morning.

Kyle didn’t look back. 

He slipped into the classroom with the rest of them, dropped into his seat, and let his bag fall to the floor with a dull thud. He pulled out a pencil, tapping it lightly against the desk, while his knee bounced relentlessly under the table. Waiting.

For Luc.

The room filled in around him, but Kyle barely registered any of it.

Then, Luc walked in.

Kyle didn’t look right away. Forced himself not to. Kept his eyes on the desk, tapping the pencil like nothing mattered.

Only when Luc slid into the desk beside Preston did Kyle finally glance up. Casually. Quickly.

But he caught it. Just a flick of Luc’s eyes back toward him. And then, subtle as anything, a light tap against his pocket.

Message received. Cash secured. Plan in motion.

Kyle gave the smallest reassuring nod. 

Luc looked away just as quickly, reaching into his bag for his pencil as the last few students settled and the room began to quiet.

The door clicked shut behind the last student.

“Okay, everyone,” the teacher said, moving to the front of the room. “Books away. This is a closed assessment.”

Chairs went still and voices dropped off, one by one, until only the low rustle of movement remained.

“As always, you’ll have the full class period,” she continued, already moving between rows with a stack of papers. “No talking. No wandering eyes.”

Tests landed face-down on desks.

When Kyle’s arrived, he immediately flipped it over and picked up his pencil, forcing himself to focus on the first question.

Read it. Think. Answer it.

Keep it normal.

For a while, everything narrowed. Just the paper. The questions. The steady scratch of graphite across the page.

But somewhere in the back of his mind, something tugged. A thread he couldn’t quite shake.

He ignored it. Kept going. Question after question.

Time slipped away. Ten minutes, maybe twenty.

Then, he heard it. 

“You two. With me, please.” 

Kyle’s hand stopped mid-word. His head snapped up.

The teacher stood over Luc and Preston, their tests already in her hand.

Too soon. Way too soon.

Kyle’s stomach dropped hard.

Shit.

Luc hesitated for a moment, like his brain hadn’t quite caught up to what was happening. Then he slowly stood from his seat.

Preston followed more stiffly, composure cracking at the edges now, confusion leaking through where confidence had been.

Luc turned just slightly before stepping away. His eyes found Kyle. And there it was. Panic.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

The teacher didn’t raise her voice. Didn’t make a scene. Just firm enough to cut through the room without disturbing the rest of the class still bent over their tests.

“Out in the hallway,” she said. 

And away they went. 

The sound of the door shutting behind them felt louder than it should have.

And the room stayed silent. Too silent.

Back at the front of the room, the teacher returned to her desk and pulled a pair of slips from the drawer. She bent over them immediately, pen moving in quick strokes.

Office slips.

Kyle’s grip tightened around his pencil until the wood pressed into his fingers.

He didn’t need to see the page to know what was being written.

Name: Luc Benoit.
Incident: Academic dishonesty.
Report to: Headmaster Thornwood’s office.

It played out in his head anyway, line by line. Because he’d seen it before. Too many times.

Those slips didn’t end with a conversation. They ended in the office. The door closing. The loud crack of wood meeting backside.

Kyle swallowed, jaw tightening.

Luc didn’t handle that kind of place well. Not at all.

After they were filled out, the teacher stepped into the hallway and returned a moment later. Two slips gone from her hand, now pressed into Luc and Preston’s palms, instructing them to take them straight to the office.

“Everyone get back to work, please,” she said calmly as she closed the door behind them again.

Kyle stared at the empty seats longer than he should have.

Then forced himself to look down.

Back at the test.

The words wouldn’t hold still. They blurred, shifting out of focus no matter how hard he tried to pin them down. He blinked once. Hard. Refocused. Nothing.

It didn’t matter.

The realization had already settled in.

He had gotten Luc into this.

Luc hadn’t pushed for it. Hadn’t even really wanted it. He’d hesitated from the start, every step of the way.

And now he was walking toward the office because of it.

Kyle dragged a hand down his face, exhaling slowly through his nose.

Across the room, a chair creaked. Someone shifted in their seat. A pen tapped once, then stopped.

No one looked up. No one cared.

Kyle swallowed, forcing his attention back to the page.

Finish the test. That was the rule now. That was what he had to do.

Sit here. Act normal. Like nothing had just gone wrong. Like Luc wasn’t walking straight into something he didn’t deserve. Like this wasn’t about to get worse.

His pencil hovered over the next question.

Didn’t move.

Figure it out later. The thought came, almost desperate. Fix it later.

Another breath.

He pressed the pencil down. Forced it forward. One word. Then another.

But the page kept slipping out of focus, his brain refused to stay here with him.

And no matter how hard he tried to drag his attention back, all he could see was Luc’s face in that last second before he left the room. 

The panic.

Kyle pushed the front door open harder than he meant to. It hit the wall with a thud.

He barely got it shut behind him before he saw them.

Luc sat on the living room couch, shoulders drawn in, hands clasped tight in his lap. His eyes were rimmed red, lashes still damp, like he’d only just managed to stop crying.

Joyce sat close beside him, one hand between his shoulder blades, rubbing slow, soothing circles.

Bobby stood in front of them. Still. Arms crossed. Waiting.

Kyle’s chest pulled tight. For a second, he forgot how to move.

He wanted to go straight to Luc. Wanted to say something…anything to erase the look on his face.

But he didn’t get the chance.

Bobby stepped in front of him, cutting him off, a folded slip of paper held out between them.

“You know anything about this?”

Kyle let out a slow breath. No point dodging it.

“Yes, sir.”

Bobby gave a short nod, then jerked his chin toward the living room.

“Sit.”

Kyle dropped his bag by the door and crossed the room, lowering himself onto the couch beside Luc.

Luc didn’t look at him. And that hit harder than anything else.

Bobby unfolded the paper, his eyes flicking over it once before lifting again.

“Start talking.”

Kyle started to open his mouth. 

“Not you.” Bobby cut him off. He tipped his chin toward Luc. “Him.”

Luc went still. 

Joyce’s hand pressed a little firmer between his shoulder blades. “It’s okay,” she murmured softly. “Just tell the truth.”

Luc swallowed. He kept his gaze lowered at first, the words coming slow. 

“Preston…he ask me to help him…for test,” he said. “He offer money so he can copy.”

Bobby’s eyebrow lifted. “And what did you say?”

“I say no,” Luc answered quickly. “I tell him…I help him study. But he does not want this.” 

“And then?” Bobby prompted.

Luc hesitated.

Kyle could see it, the line he was trying not to cross. The part where Kyle came in.

Luc’s fingers tightened together in his lap.

“Today…before test,” he said slowly. “I…”

Bobby’s eyes narrowed, just a fraction.

“You took the money.”

Luc nodded, just once.

Joyce shifted beside him, the movement small but telling; caught off guard, but still shielding him. “Bobby…he was pressured. He didn’t know any better.”

“No.” Bobby’s voice wasn’t raised, but it cut clean through the room. “That might’ve worked last year. Not now.”

His gaze didn’t leave Luc.

“You do know better. Don’t you?”

Luc’s shoulders dipped at that. 

“I know better,” he said quietly.

That was it. That was the crack. Kyle couldn’t sit there anymore.

“It was my idea.”

The words came out fast. Too fast to take back.

All three of them turned to him.

Kyle leaned forward, elbows braced on his knees, hands clasped tight enough to ache.

“He didn’t want to do it,” he said. “I told him to. I told him to take the money and throw the test so the kid would fail.”

Joyce’s hand stilled against Luc’s back.

Luc turned toward him. “Kyle-”

“I talked him into it,” Kyle cut in, not letting him finish. “This is on me.”

Bobby stared at him. For a long second, he said nothing. Then…

“Are you shittin’ me, Kyle?!”

Luc blinked, startled, glancing quickly toward Joyce.

She gave him a small, reassuring pat on the cheek. “I’ll explain that one later,” she murmured. “Don’t repeat it, okay?”

Luc nodded at once, easing back into place. His hands folded neatly in his lap again, like posture alone could undo what had just happened.

Bobby dragged a hand down his face, exhaling hard. He shook his head, disbelief written all over it, then slapped his hat against his jean-clad thigh in frustration.

“What the hell were you thinking?”

Kyle swallowed, but he didn’t look away.

“He was using him,” Kyle said. “All year. Not learning anything, just making him do the work-”

“So your solution,” Bobby cut in, stepping closer, “was to cheat right back?”

Kyle’s jaw tightened. Because when his father put it like that…it sounded exactly as stupid as it was.

“…Yes, sir.”

“You think that’s better?” Bobby demanded. “You think that makes this okay?”

“No, sir.”

“That’s right,” Bobby said. “It’s not okay. It’s not okay that you decided the rules don’t apply to you just because you think you’re right. And it’s not okay that you let Luc walk straight into the fire for your own vendetta.”

His eyes held Kyle’s.

“That’s not how a leader acts.”

That landed hard.

Kyle didn’t respond. Didn’t have anything to say. Because right now, he couldn’t think of a single version of himself that wasn’t wrong.

Bobby looked between the two of them. He set his hat back on his head, and adjusted it slowly, like he was gathering the last of his patience before it ran out.

Then, when he was ready, he pointed a firm finger at Kyle.

“You don’t get to fix someone else’s bad choices by making worse ones,” Bobby said.

His hand shifted, pointing at Luc.

“And you,” he added, “don’t follow him off a cliff just because he sounds convincing.”

Luc nodded quickly. “Yes, sir.”

Silence settled heavily over the room. Then Bobby exhaled, and there was a finality to it.

“You both know exactly how we’re gonna correct this,” he said, voice like a snapped branch. He jerked his head toward the hallway. “Garage. Now.”

Kyle stood immediately. Luc followed a second later.

Joyce reached out without thinking. Her fingers settled on Luc’s shoulder. “It’s gonna be okay,” she murmured softly, almost lost under the hum of the house. 

Then she caught Kyle’s arm. Only for a second. She didn’t try to stop him. Just a small squeeze, her thumb pressing once, like she could pass a message through skin.

I see you. And I love you.  

Kyle glanced at her, quick and fleeting, but enough. He gave the slightest nod. 

Then he pulled free and followed his father down the hall. 

The garage hit Kyle the second he stepped inside. Sawdust and motor oil, thick in the air, clinging to the back of his throat. Usually he welcomed it, it was a familiar kind of smell, almost comforting. 

Not tonight. 

He let the door shut behind them and stayed half a step in front of Luc, like that extra inch of distance might buy him a few more seconds. 

Luc stood stiff. Too stiff. His shoulders were pulled up high, his arms locked at his sides like he didn’t know what to do with them. His breathing wasn’t right either. Too quick, then held, then let out unevenly, like he was trying to force it quiet and couldn’t quite manage.

His father didn’t say anything right away. He walked in like he had all the time in the world. 

For a moment, the only sound in the garage was the faint tick of cooling metal from Bobby’s truck and Luc’s uneven breathing.

Then Bobby turned.

He still had the slip in his hand. He glanced down at it again, like he hadn’t already read every word.

“You got five at school, Luc?”

Luc nodded, quick, eyes fixed somewhere near the floor. “Yes, sir.”

Bobby tucked the paper into his back pocket and gave a small nod. 

“You know the rule,” he said. 

Of course they did. The words were practically carved into the walls of the house at this point.

“You get paddled at school…” Bobby’s gaze settled on Luc. “…you get double at home.” 

Kyle’s stomach tightened. Even expecting it, hearing it said out loud made it so…final.

Luc swallowed hard. From the corner of his eye, Kyle saw his throat move, like he was bracing himself from the inside out. 

“Yes, sir,” Luc said, his voice cracking. 

Kyle shut his eyes for half a second. Not long enough for anyone to notice. Just long enough to mentally prepare himself.  

He knew the rule. He’d always known it. It wasn’t new, wasn’t unfair in the way rules sometimes were. 

That didn’t make this any easier to watch.

Because this? This was on him. He’d dragged Luc into it.  

Kyle stepped forward before he could stop himself. “Dad, wait. Luc shouldn’t get more. It was my idea. So…it should just be me.”    

Bobby looked at him then. 

“Oh, I know it was,” he said calmly. “Don’t you worry about that. Yours is coming next.” 

Kyle felt that settle in, the inevitability. 

“But right now,” Bobby went on, shifting his attention back to Luc, “he’s going to answer for his choices.”

Kyle exhaled slowly through his nose, the fight draining out of him as quickly as it had flared up.

Because there it was. That line you didn’t cross. Not here. Not with him.

Bobby gave a small nod, like that was settled.

“Let’s take care of this, Luc.” His tone didn’t change, didn’t soften. “Go on. Get in position.” 

Luc moved when Bobby gestured, stepping forward toward the workbench. He didn’t argue. Just obeyed.  

Kyle noticed the little things anyway, the way Luc’s shoulders stayed tight, the slight tremor in his hands. 

“Drop your pants,” Bobby added, matter-of-fact. “I need to see the damage.”

Luc’s fingers fumbled once before he got them steady enough to undo the button.

Kyle looked away. He couldn’t help it.

His gaze fixed somewhere near the wall, unfocused, while everything else sharpened instead. The rustle of clothing, the quiet shift of movement, the familiar scrape of wood as the paddle was lifted from its place.

Even the way his dad hummed thoughtfully under his breath, like he was assessing a piece of work. 

For a second, Kyle thought about keeping his eyes averted. Letting it happen in the background. Pretending distance would make it easier. 

It wouldn’t. And it shouldn’t. 

So when he heard Luc shift, fabric being pulled back into place, Kyle made himself look up again. Made himself face it.

“Hands in front,” Bobby reminded quietly. 

Kyle’s arms folded tighter across his chest, fingers digging into his sleeves. He fixed his eyes somewhere ahead…Luc’s shoulder, the edge of the workbench…anywhere that wasn’t- 

A sharp crack split the air.

Kyle flinched before he could stop himself.

Luc’s breath hitched hard, like it had been knocked loose.

Silence rushed in behind it, thick and immediate.

Don’t look away.

Another sharp crack. Louder this time, or maybe it just felt louder. 

Luc let out a strained breath. His shoulders tensed, then stayed that way, like he couldn’t get them to drop again.

The next one came after just enough pause to make it worse.

A broken sound slipped out of Luc, and Kyle shut his eyes. Just for a second. 

He could hear Luc trying to hold it together now, breathing unevenly, a quick inhale through his nose, fighting for control and losing ground inch by inch.

Kyle reopened his eyes, his grip on his arms tightened.

Another crack.

Luc shifted, just slightly, and that was worse somehow, that he couldn’t stay still anymore. 

The fifth crack landed, and the sound that followed wasn’t controlled at all, it was pulled out of Luc before he could stop it.

And that…that was the part Kyle couldn’t shake. 

“Breathe,” Bobby said after a pause. 

Kyle noticed the shift more than he expected to. The edge in his dad’s voice dulled just a fraction. His free hand moved, resting softly on Luc’s lower back, holding him there in a different way now. 

Luc nodded.

It wasn’t convincing.

His breathing was still uneven, catching and slipping. He couldn’t quite find a rhythm to hold onto.

Kyle’s eyes burned.

He blinked hard, dropping his gaze to the concrete floor;  a dark stain near his shoe, a crack running through it. 

But he dragged his eyes back up.

He didn’t get to look away. Not now. 

“Last five. Drop ‘em.” 

Luc moved slowly this time. Careful. Like every shift took effort. The soft rustle of fabric sounded too loud again, filling the space in a way it shouldn’t have.

Kyle felt his throat tighten in anticipation. This was the worst part, the second half. The paper-thin fabric of his boxers the only barrier against the sting of the paddle now. 

He could hear Luc breathing in anticipation too. Struggling. 

Then, a duller, heavier sound cracked through the air.

“Ah!” 

Luc’s voice broke out, no time to catch it or hold it back. The sound bounced off the walls, hung there for a second too long.

“Hold still. Almost done.”

Luc made a small movement and then stilled again. His hands tightened where they were braced, fingers curling hard, like that was the only place he could put it.

Kyle pressed his lips together.

Another sound, quick, close behind the first.

Then another.

Too fast to reset.

Luc’s control slipped with it. His head dropped to his forearms, and the sounds that followed were rough, pulled out of him in a way that made Kyle’s stomach turn.

“Head up.” Bobby instructed. 

Kyle watched Luc push himself back up, eyes forward, fixed on nothing.

The last two swats came in quick succession, as if Bobby was just as ready for it to be over as Luc was.

And then it was quiet.

Not truly, Luc’s sobbing lingered, filling the space where everything else had gone still.

Kyle realized he’d been holding his own breath. He let it out slowly.

Luc sagged forward, the tension draining out of him all at once. Whatever had been holding him up finally gave way.

“Stand up.”

Bobby’s voice broke through, controlled, but not harsh.

Luc straightened slowly. It wasn’t one clean movement, more like piece by piece. He reached back, pulling his pants up with careful hands.

Kyle watched the whole thing. Couldn’t seem to stop now.

Luc turned to face Bobby, head ducked at first. He scrubbed at his face with the heel of his hand.

Bobby reached out, one hand came up to the back of Luc’s neck and pulled him in close. 

Luc didn’t resist. He folded into it, forehead pressing in, shoulders finally dropping for real this time.

“That stunt could’ve cost you your scholarship,” Bobby said, his voice close. “You understand?”

Luc nodded against him. “Yes, sir.” 

Kyle felt that land a second later.

Scholarship.

He hadn’t even thought that far. Not once. Not when it mattered.  

“You and Kyle can’t afford mistakes like that,” Bobby went on, quieter now. “It may not be fair, but it’s the reality you’re in.” 

Luc didn’t move. Just listened.

“So you do your own work. You let other people do theirs. And you let the staff handle the rest. You hear me?” 

Luc nodded again.

Bobby gave him one more firm squeeze before letting go.

Luc stepped back, drawing in a shaky breath. He sniffed once, quick, trying to get himself back under control again.

Kyle waited for him to look over. Say something. Anything.

Luc didn’t.

He turned toward the door instead, and he walked out.

Just like that.

The door shut behind him. The sound echoed, and then the garage went still.

Kyle decided not to wait.

He moved before Bobby could say a word. He didn’t look back. Just reached down, pushed his sweatpants out of the way, and braced himself where he was supposed to.

Because what was the point of dragging it out?

What was there left to say?

Behind him, Bobby let out a quiet breath. Not quite a sigh. But close. 

Kyle felt the shift of air more than heard the movement, and then the light, almost absent tap of the paddle against him. 

A warning.

A marker.

“Ready?”

Kyle fixed his eyes straight ahead. The wall. A knot in the wood. Anything to hold onto.

His throat felt tight, but his voice came out confident enough.

“Yes, sir.”

Bobby didn’t drag it out.

The first crack came fast and sharp, cutting through the quiet, and the rest followed right behind it, one on top of the other before Kyle could fully separate them.

Too quick to think about.

Too quick to brace for.

Kyle’s grip tightened where he held himself, his jaw locking hard, teeth pressing together as he forced everything down, every reaction, every instinct to move.

He didn’t make a sound. He hadn’t in a long time.

And this time, especially this time, he didn’t deserve to.

The last one landed, and just like that, the silence rushed back in, loud in its own way. 

Kyle stayed where he was, waiting. Expecting more. Luc had gotten more. That’s how this was supposed to work. 

But nothing came.

Instead, there was movement behind him. The faint shift of fabric, hands unhurried as Bobby pulled his sweatpants back into place. 

Kyle frowned. Confusion creeping in where expectation had been.

Then a firm hand on his arm, pulling him upright. 

Kyle turned, brows drawn together, shaking his head before he could stop himself. 

“Luc got ten,” he said, trying to line the numbers up in his head. “Plus the five at school.”

“I’m aware.”

Bobby’s tone didn’t change. Didn’t rise to meet the argument.

Kyle opened his mouth, the words already forming. 

That’s not fair, that’s not even. 

But they didn’t make it out.

Bobby stepped in, closing the space, and before Kyle could figure out what he was doing, he was being pulled in the same way Luc had been. 

Kyle went still. Didn't lean into it. But he didn’t pull away either. 

“You don’t get to decide the lesson,” Bobby said. “That’s exactly what got you into this mess. Isn’t it?”

The words clicked into place in a way everything else hadn’t yet.

This wasn’t about numbers, or matching consequences. It was about control.

About the way Kyle had stepped in where he shouldn’t have. Decided what mattered. Decided what didn’t. Decided for someone else.

Kyle’s eyes slipped shut for a second.

Oh.

He saw it now. The way his dad had just taken that control right out of his hands. Because it had never been his to hold like that in the first place. 

His shoulders dropped, just a fraction.

“Yes, sir,” he said quietly.

“I know you’re protective of him, son,” Bobby said quietly. “And I admire that about you. That instinct.” A pause. “But today…you steered him wrong.”

Kyle’s throat tightened hard. He tried to swallow it down, but it didn’t go anywhere.

His chin wavered before he could stop it, and he gave a small, uneven breath, half inhale, half something breaking apart.

He nodded anyway, pressed in close against Bobby’s shoulder, because there was nowhere else to put it.

Bobby’s hand came up, firm between his shoulder blades, one steadying pat, then a longer hold like he was anchoring him there for just a second longer than necessary.

Then he gently shifted him back.

“Go apologize to him,” Bobby said. “Make it right.”

Kyle blinked quickly, eyes still stinging. 

“Yes, sir,” he managed.

And then he went back inside.

Kyle hovered outside the bedroom door, fingers curled lightly against the frame.

From the other side came, quiet, stuttering sniffles.

Yeah. You suck, Kyle. 

He exhaled, then pushed the door open.

And there was Luc. Top bunk. Face down. Buried in his pillow.  

“Luc.”

Luc didn’t move. Not at first.

Then came a muffled groan, voice smothered into fabric. 

“No!” 

The word came out thicker than usual, his accent heavier somehow.

Kyle exhaled again, slowly through his nose, stepping further into the room, the door clicking shut behind him.

“Luc, I’m sorry.”

That did it.

Luc shoved himself up just enough to turn his head, and then it all came spilling out.

“Je t’avais dit que c’était une mauvaise idée! Toujours avec tes plans débiles—toujours ! Et maintenant, regarde!”

The words came fast, sharp, tripping over each other. Any trace of careful English…gone. This was instinct. Frustration. Heat.

Kyle flinched at the force of it. Luc never snapped…never like this. And, if he was being honest, there was a flicker of something like pride under the surprise.

Luc broke off with a strangled sound, dragging a hand through his hair before dropping his face back into the pillow.

“Idiot!” 

Kyle blinked, standing there for a second, trying, and failing, to piece any of it together.

Didn’t matter. He got it.

“…Okay,” he said after a beat, rubbing the back of his neck. “I caught one word in there…but message received.” 

Luc made a sound somewhere between a groan and a huff and rolled onto his side, turning his back to him.

“Go, Kyle.”

“Not happening.”

Kyle didn’t hesitate. He crossed the room, each step deliberate, and grabbed the ladder.

“Don’t,” Luc muttered, voice muffled. “I serious.”

“Too late.”

The wood creaked softly under Kyle’s weight as he climbed. For a split second, he wondered if he should stop, give him space, let him cool off.

He didn’t.

He pulled himself onto the top bunk anyway, careful as he shifted onto the mattress.

The space was tighter up here. But Kyle settled with his back against the wall, stretching his legs out over Luc’s, letting them hang off the edge of the railing like he’d done a hundred times before.

Luc groaned, louder this time, and yanked the pillow over his head, dragging it down like he could block Kyle out completely.

Kyle sat there for a second. Then he reached out, tugging lightly at the back of Luc’s shirt. 

“I’m sorry,” he said again, quieter this time. “It was a dumb idea.”

Nothing.

Luc stayed curled in on himself, pillow still half over his head.

Kyle exhaled, dragging a hand over the back of his neck.

“I thought I was fixing something,” he admitted. A small shake of his head. “Or…I don’t know. Proving a point.”

Still nothing.

“I shouldn’t have pushed you,” Kyle added, more firmly now. “You said no.”

That got something. A small shift. Subtle, but there.

Luc turned just enough to peek out from under the pillow, one eye visible, studying him.

“Correct,” he said, a little tight, a little annoyed. 

But Kyle could see it, even in that one glance. The walls weren’t gone, but they were cracking.

Kyle’s mouth twitched. He tried to hold it back. Didn’t quite manage it.

“But also…” he added, tone easing just a notch, “if you weren’t so obvious about showing Preston your answers, we probably wouldn't have gotten caught.” 

Luc whipped around so fast he nearly cracked his head against the wall.

“Pardon?!”

Kyle threw both hands up immediately, half defensive, half amused. “I’m just saying. Subtlety? Not your strong suit.”

Luc just stared at him for a beat, pure disbelief. Then, he grabbed his pillow and swung.

Thump.

“Idiot!”

Kyle laughed, bringing an arm up to block the next hit. “Hey, okay, okay! I deserved that one.”

Luc hit him again anyway. Less force this time, more principle than anger. 

Then he huffed, dropping the pillow back onto the mattress.

They both settled again.

The room resetting, the energy shifting, still tense, but no longer sharp enough to cut.

Kyle shifted beside him, then nudged Luc lightly.

“Hey…” he said, softer now. “On the bright side, at least Dad didn’t say anything about you giving the money back.”

Luc didn’t answer.

Kyle let it sit for a second, then tried again, a little lighter.

“You’re not even a little happy you’re twenty bucks richer?”

That got him a look.

Luc turned his head slowly, studying him like the question itself didn’t quite make sense.

Then he shook his head.

“No.”

He paused. 

“I feel…” He searched for the word, brows drawing together. “Stupid.”

Kyle’s expression changed immediately. The half-smile faded before it could fully form.

He looked at Luc for a long second. 

“Yeah,” he said. “Me too.”

That sat between them for a moment.

Luc studied him quietly, eyes narrowing slightly, like he was trying to decide if Kyle actually meant it or was just talking again.

He did mean it. 

“…Next time,” Luc said slowly, still thinking it through as he spoke, “not follow your plans.”

Kyle let out a quiet huff of a laugh. “Wow. No faith at all.”

Luc didn’t smile. Not yet.

“No plans,” he corrected simply.

Kyle lifted a hand in surrender. “Okay. I’ll try.”

Luc’s eyes flicked to him immediately. Suspicious.

“You try?”

Kyle grinned faintly, leaning back against the wall. “I gotta leave a little room for improvement.”

Luc just stared at him. Holding it. Long enough that Kyle started to wonder if he’d pushed it too far again.

Then, finally, the corner of Luc’s mouth lifted.

Kyle smiled, satisfied, and gave Luc a light pat on the back before tipping his head up toward the ceiling.

“Just one more semester,” he said. “Then we’re done with St. Cassian’s and Thornwood. Forever.”

Luc let out a soft breath through his nose. “And Preston.”

Kyle didn’t hesitate. “God, especially Preston.”

A small, tired laugh slipped out of Luc before he could stop it.

Kyle glanced back at him, the humor fading a little.

“Hey,” he said, quieter now. “We’ll be on to bigger and better things soon. And I really do got you. Always.”

He shifted slightly so Luc could see his face more clearly.

“You believe that part at least, right?”

Luc held his gaze. Then, he gave a small, certain nod.

“I know.”

Kyle reached over and gave the edge of the pillow a light tug.

“Move over.”

Luc made a small, half-hearted sound of protest into the fabric, but he shifted anyway.

Kyle slid into the space beside him, careful with the ladder, careful with the mattress, until his shoulder bumped into Luc’s.

The bunk creaked softly under their combined weight, settling around them like it had been waiting for this all along.

For a while, neither of them spoke.

The silence didn’t demand anything. It just existed, unbothered, almost familiar.

Kyle stared up at the ceiling again, then let his arm relax at his side.

And this time…

It felt okay.