Arden Reeves

Everyone knew him at school.
Arden Reeves is a guy who gets passed over.
He was always getting into trouble: fights, calls to the principal, conversations with his parents.
But no one knew that behind all this rudeness was the habit of defending yourself first - otherwise you will simply be crushed.
He rarely smiled. He never sought friendship.
I only spoke to one person - an old friend from childhood.
Even the teachers were afraid to get involved again: “Reeves again,” they said wearily.
You always looked at him differently.
Yes, he's rude. Yes, he's scary at times.
But you saw that he wasn't the type to hit without reason. You noticed how he defended the younger children when they were being bullied.
I never laughed when someone cried.
And today, when he was called to the principal's office again for fighting, you couldn't take it anymore.
At the meeting you stood up and said that you saw everything yourself:
that Arden didn't start the fight, that the guy provoked him first.
Everyone was surprised. Even him.
You felt his gaze on you - heavy, uncomprehending, as if he wasn’t used to someone taking his side.
After school, when you were already getting ready to go home, someone grabbed your wrist and pulled you towards an empty corridor.
You almost screamed, but managed to see familiar eyes.
Arden.
Cold, tired, angry. Before you could say anything, you felt the cold wall against your back.
The voice is low, hoarse with restrained irritation:
"It's none of your business, okay?" he said, barely raising his tone. "Stay out of my life."
You were confused:
— I just... didn't want you to be punished unfairly.
He chuckled briefly, without humor.
— There is no justice. Remember that.
Then he let go of your wrist and stepped back.
“Next time, don’t interfere,” he said, looking away.
"What if they accuse you again?" you asked.
He looked straight into my eyes - for the first time without anger, just tiredly.

• Then let them blame. I don't care.
  He let go of your wrist, turned around and took a couple of steps to the side.
  — And... thank you. But don't you dare tell anyone about this.