Scars and Strength

A dull beeping echoed through the hospital room, steady and rhythmic. Troy groggily opened his eyes, his vision blurry at first. The sterile white ceiling above him came into focus, along with the scent of antiseptic and fresh linen. His body felt heavy, weighed down by exhaustion and lingering pain.

He shifted slightly, a sharp sting running up his left arm. He glanced down—his arm was wrapped tightly in fresh bandages, covering the wound where Jackson's flames had seared his flesh.

"Finally awake?"

The voice came from his right. His mother sat beside him, her eyes red-rimmed but relieved. Her dark hair was pulled into a messy bun, as if she hadn't slept in days. Next to her, Annie stood with arms crossed, watching him carefully.

"How long was I out?" Troy rasped, his throat dry.

"Two days," his mother answered, reaching out to brush his hair back. "You scared me half to death."

Troy let out a slow breath. "What happened?"

Annie stepped forward. "Mister Corrode was arrested. They took him straight to the high-security superhero prison—no way he's getting out of there." She hesitated before adding, "And… Jackson left after you blocked his attack. The police didn't ask too many questions. They just took Corrode and left."

Troy frowned, the memory of the fight rushing back. The way Jackson had looked at him—like he was an idiot for stopping him. The pain in his arm had been unbearable, but he hadn't regretted it.

"He was going to kill him," Troy murmured.

His mother exhaled sharply. "And you nearly got yourself killed stopping him."

Troy didn't answer. He knew she was right, but he wouldn't have done it any differently.

Annie sat on the edge of the bed. "You were incredible, you know."

He let out a short, dry laugh. "Didn't feel that way."

"Well, you were," she insisted. "You actually fought back this time. You saved me."

Troy glanced at her, seeing the sincerity in her eyes. Something inside him felt a little lighter.

A week later, Troy returned to school.

Troy walked through the school hallways, his arm still bandaged but healing. Whispers followed him as he moved, but not in admiration.

"Did you see his arm?"

"He actually got burned by Jackson. What an idiot."

"What kind of hero gets himself hurt like that?"

Troy clenched his jaw but didn't stop walking. He had expected this—after all, he wasn't someone like Jackson. He wasn't an S-Class hero, someone feared and respected. He was just… Troy.

As he turned a corner, a group of students blocked his path. One of them, a tall guy from the football team, smirked. "Hey, hero," he drawled mockingly. "How's that arm? Still feel like playing the big shot?"

His friends snickered. Another student, a girl with a sharp grin, leaned in. "You really thought you could stop Jackson? Dude, you're lucky he didn't finish the job."

Troy exhaled slowly. He didn't want to deal with this.

One of the boys reached for his arm, poking at the bandages. "Let's see the damage—"

A hand suddenly grabbed the guy's wrist.

"Back off."

The hallway fell silent.

Jackson stood there, his eyes cold as he shoved the guy's hand away. The football player staggered back, looking stunned.

"J-Jackson, we were just messing with him—"

"I said back off," Jackson repeated, his voice sharp.

The bullies hesitated before quickly scattering, mumbling under their breaths.

Troy stared at Jackson warily. "What do you want?"

Jackson crossed his arms. "You okay?"

Troy blinked. Out of all the things he had expected, that wasn't one of them.

"I'm fine," he said cautiously.

Jackson scoffed. "Doesn't look like it."

Troy narrowed his eyes. "What do you care? You were the one who gave me this scar."

Jackson didn't flinch. "You got in my way."

"You were going to kill him."

"And?"

Troy clenched his fists. "Heroes don't kill."

Jackson tilted his head slightly. "You really believe that?"

"Yes."

There was a pause. Jackson studied him for a long moment before letting out a small, amused exhale. "You're stubborn."

Troy frowned. "I don't need your approval."

Jackson smirked. "Good. Just don't be stupid next time." He turned to walk away but stopped and glanced over his shoulder. "And… don't let those idiots get to you."

Troy stared after him as he walked off, his mind racing.

Maybe, just maybe, Jackson wasn't as indifferent as he pretended to be.

Maybe he even respected Troy—just a little.

And maybe… that was enough.