Return

"Ughh.."

Adan groaned as a heavy blow landed on his abdomen, sending him crumpling to the ground. His vision spun, confusion clouding his mind as he instinctively raised his arms to shield his head from another strike. The sharp, mocking laughter around him brought a chilling sense of déjà vu.

The rough asphalt beneath his palms, the faint smell of iron in the air—it was all too familiar. His chest tightened as the memories came flooding back. He was back in high school. Back where the nightmares began.

Through blurry eyes, he spotted a figure sprawled on the ground nearby. Bloodied and bruised, the boy lay motionless. Adan's breath hitched. He knew that figure. He had spent years trying to forget it.

"H...Hazim," he whispered, his voice cracking.

He reached out a trembling hand toward the boy when suddenly his head jerked back, his hair yanked painfully.

"Hey, don't disturb your friend's nap, will you?"

That voice. The one he despised more than any other. It sent a shiver of rage and fear through his spine.

"Victor," Adan hissed through gritted teeth.

Victor Hendrion. The name alone made his blood boil. Adan turned his head, glaring up at the smug, towering figure in front of him. Victor hadn't changed—not a bit. His towering frame was still intimidating, his cruel smirk a constant reminder of his sadistic nature. His sharp features and cold, piercing eyes held an air of superiority, as if he was born to dominate.

'Damn this guy ! Damn you have no respect to elder!! I'm 34 you moron ' he thought as he glare dagger at the bullies

"Still have that disgusting glare, huh?" Victor sneered, his voice dripping with mockery. "Do I need to remind you of your place, you lowlife?"

Before Adan could respond, a fist collided with his jaw, sending a sharp jolt of pain through his skull. Victor didn't stop there. Punch after punch landed on Adan's body as Victor and his lackeys laughed, enjoying the cruelty.

Eventually, the torment stopped. Adan collapsed against the wall, his breathing ragged. His entire body ached, but he didn't care about his own pain. His eyes found Hazim again, the boy still lying on the ground, barely conscious.

This wasn't a dream. The bruises, the pain—it was all real.

*****

A few hours later, Adan sat next to Hazim, pressing a cold can of soda against the boy's swollen cheek.

"Here," Adan muttered, his voice hoarse.

Hazim hissed in pain as the cold metal touched his bruised skin. His delicate features were marred by purpling bruises and cuts, but even with the injuries, his timid and shy demeanor remained. Hazim had always been soft-spoken and gentle, his thin frame and kind eyes making him an easy target.

"Thanks," Hazim sputtered, his voice quiet yet familiar. Hearing it again made Adan's chest tighten.

"Still the same, huh?" Adan muttered under his breath, shaking his head. He couldn't believe how much he missed this boy, though he wouldn't dare admit it.

Hazim blinked at him, tilting his head slightly. "You...you've been staring," he said, his tone shy but teasing.

Adan rubbed the back of his neck, suddenly feeling awkward. "What? No! I was just—uh, checking your bruise. How's it feeling?"

Hazim chuckled softly, though it ended in a wince. "I'm fine. You alright, though? You look worse than me."

Adan scoffed. "Shouldn't you be worried about yourself, dude? You fainted earlier. Thought I was gonna have to carry your sorry ass to the nurse's office."

Hazim smiled faintly, the timid curve of his lips bringing a strange warmth to Adan's chest.

The quiet moment stretched between them, the chaos of earlier fading into the background. Adan's mind swirled with confusion and unanswered questions. Why was he here again? Why now? Was this some punishment, or a chance to fix what had been broken?

His gaze shifted to Hazim, who was quietly fiddling with the can of soda. No matter the reason, one thing was clear: if this was real, he wouldn't let history repeat itself.

Maybe he could prevent that----or changed his fate and the dear to him