Blood, Bonds, and a Bit of Blush
The golden glow of sunset spilled onto the street outside the cozy café, dust dancing in the fading light. Kiara and Blick stepped out, hand in hand, the warmth of their shared moment still tingling in the air.
But it didn't last long.
Thirteen boys stood across the narrow lane—arms crossed, brows furrowed, rage simmering beneath cocky smirks.
"Well, well, Mr. Muscles decided to get romantic after kicking my brother's nose in," said the one in front, a taller guy with slick hair and knuckles already cracked.
Kiara froze. "Blick, let's just leave."
"Too late," he muttered. His eyes scanned the group. He wasn't looking for an escape route—he was calculating.
The leader stepped closer. "Time to teach you a lesson. Nobody messes with us and walks away."
Blick didn't flinch. "Maybe you should've brought more people."
A punch flew—clean, fast, brutal.
It cracked across Blick's jaw.
Kiara screamed. The world slowed.
But Blick just turned back, blood at the corner of his lip, and smirked. "Bad move."
He surged forward.
One knee to the gut.
An elbow spin to the guy behind him.
A sweep that took down a third.
Gasps burst from the gang. They hadn't expected a guy who could fight back like a movie stunt double.
The remaining boys hesitated, eyes flicking between each other.
Then—"YO! BLICK!" came a shout from down the street.
A gang of six local boys ran up, led by Dev, the guy Blick had helped that morning.
"You messin' with our bro?" Dev asked, cracking his neck.
The rival gang leader hesitated. "Who are you?"
"Locals. And this guy's with us," Dev said. "Anyone who lays a finger on him again deals with us. Got it?"
The crowd muttered. One of the earlier fighters whimpered, clutching his ribs.
The gang retreated. But not before a final growl. "This isn't over."
Blick wiped his lip, breathing hard. Kiara rushed to him, checking his jaw.
"You're bleeding!" she gasped.
"Only a little. But my pride? Still intact."
Dev clapped him on the back. "Come, man! Let's cool off. Cold drinks on us!"
They headed to a corner stall. Kiara sat beside Blick, still shaken. As they sipped orange sodas, one of Dev's friends leaned over.
"Is she your girl, bro? She looks like a model."
Kiara flushed crimson. Blick glanced at her, then grinned. "I'm working on it."
She hit his arm playfully. "Idiot."
Just then, Blick's college buddies arrived—Rizwan, Sameer, and Tanuj.
"Bro, we heard something went down! You okay?" Rizwan asked.
"He's fine. Took three guys down and still managed to flirt," Kiara teased.
Everyone laughed.
The tension broke, and as dusk fell deeper, so did their bond.
Next Morning: College Buzz
Blick stepped into college wearing a fresh tee and a subtle bruise on his jaw. Heads turned.
"That's him! The guy who beat up the seniors."
"He's got local backup, man. Even Dev's crew knows him."
"Is it true he's dating Kiara and Ayesha at the same time?!"
Blick ignored the whispers, adjusting his backpack.
Near the staircase, a flash.
Click.
That girl again.
The same one from the washroom corridor. Her DSLR glinted in the sun. She stood behind a pillar, partially hidden, yet very much watching him.
He squinted. Who was she? Why keep clicking photos of him and Kiara?
Before he could walk over, another voice stopped him.
"Blick!"
Ayesha.
Dressed in a pastel pink crop top and a pleated mini-skirt, she jogged up, clutching a notebook.
"So, I never got your answer," she said, a sly smile playing on her lips.
"About?"
"The ramp walk, dummy. You said you'll think. I've got better legs than Kiara, by the way."
Blick chuckled. "It's not about legs, Ayesha."
"Oh? Then what? Lips?"
Before he could reply, Kiara appeared from behind, arms folded. Her jeans hugged her waist, and a half-sleeve white shirt let her midriff peek with every breath.
"Still trying to poach him, Ayesha?"
Ayesha smirked. "Maybe. You had your turn in the washroom, now it's mine."
Kiara's cheeks flared. "You saw—"
"The whole college did. Relax. You two made quite a steamy poster."
Blick sighed. "Ladies, please."
A teacher called from across the yard. "Ramp participants! Assemble in the auditorium!"
They entered together, walking past gaggles of girls and shirtless boys showing off abs.
Inside, the teachers were already seated, clipboards ready.
"Girls with bold confidence and boys with grace—step forward."
A girl strutted forward, her dress tighter than common sense. Another spun, flashing a bit more than intended.
The boys hooted.
One male teacher blushed so hard he dropped his pen.
Kiara nudged Blick. "Should I wear that too?"
"You'd shut the whole show down."
"Flatterer."
Ayesha leaned between them. "So... who's your partner, Blick? Final call."
He looked from Kiara to Ayesha.
Kiara gave him a playful glare. "Choose wisely."
He put his hand on Kiara's shoulder. "Her. We're a team now."
Ayesha mock-gasped. "Betrayed! But fine. I'll steal the show without you."
Later that afternoon, while they practiced walking across stage, Kiara stumbled in her heels.
"Ouch—damn, these shoes!"
Blick caught her by the waist. "You okay?"
Their faces were close.
She laughed, brushing hair from her face. "You keep saving me. Makes me feel weak."
"Nah. Makes me feel needed."
Their eyes met again. Warm. Curious.
Then, a voice in the back of the room snapped them out of it.
"I got that shot!"
It was the camera girl.
Blick turned. "Why are you taking our photos?"
She grinned, unbothered. "Let's say... someone wants to keep tabs on you. And I enjoy catching moments."
Before they could question her, she disappeared behind the curtain.
Kiara grabbed Blick's hand. "I don't trust her."
"Neither do I. But we've got bigger things coming. Ramp show. Dance. And maybe... something more?"
She looked up at him. "If you ask nicely."
He leaned in, whispering, "Would you be my dance partner too?"
Kiara smiled.
"Only if we win."
Their fingers laced together, the spotlight above flickered on. This was just the beginning.
And somewhere backstage, the camera girl sent a photo to someone with a single caption:
"They're falling fast. Time to break it before it's too late."