Chapter 6: when it breaks

It started with whispers.

The kind that travel faster than fact 

a smirk here, a glance there, people turning their heads just a little too late when Ryan walked by.

He noticed it in the lecture hall first.

Two girls near the back, looking at him and giggling. A guy leaning in to his friend and muttering something behind a cupped hand.

He told himself it was nothing.

That people always stared.

That it didn’t mean anything.

But deep down, Ryan already knew.

Because fear had a sound.

And it sounded exactly like silence after laughter.

He found out the truth two hours later.

Chris was waiting for him in their dorm room, holding his phone out like it was covered in blood.

“Ryan,” Chris said. “You need to see this.”

Ryan took the phone.

It was a message board.

Anonymous. Cruel. Exactly the kind of digital trash pile people used to chew up someone’s name without consequence.

There were three posts about him.

All posted within the last twelve hours.

All with photos.

One was of him walking on campus.

Another was him and Daniel — standing too close, looking too soft.

And the third…

It was from last semester. A private photo. Shirtless. Taken in his old apartment mirror. A photo he’d sent to Jake during the weeks when things still felt like love.

Now it was cropped, edited, and posted with the caption:

“He likes to act broken. Just wait till he starts begging.”

Ryan dropped the phone.

Chris was already swearing. “Who the hell posted this? Do you think it was?”

“Yes.” Ryan’s voice was too quiet.

Chris grabbed his arm. “Ryan”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re not”

“I said I’m fine!”

The room went still.

Ryan picked the phone up off the ground, handed it back, and walked out.

He didn’t go to Daniel.

Not at first.

Not because he didn’t trust him 

but because he did.

And he didn’t want Daniel to see him like this.

Humiliated. Exposed. Vulnerable in a way that made him feel small again, like the version of himself Jake had spent months creating  the one who flinched when someone raised their voice, who apologized for needing anything at all.

But he forgot one thing.

Daniel noticed everything.

It was barely an hour later when Daniel found him in the library.

Not reading. Not even pretending.

Just sitting at a back table with his hood up, staring down at an open book he hadn’t turned in thirty minutes.

Daniel sat down across from him slowly. Said nothing. Didn’t demand answers.

Just waited.

Ryan didn’t lift his head.

“They posted it,” he said quietly. “The picture. The one I sent him.”

Daniel’s voice was gentle, but firm. “I saw.”

“You did?”

“Chris sent me the link.”

Ryan laughed bitterly. “Of course he did.”

“You shouldn’t have had to find out that way.”

“I should’ve known it was coming.”

“Ryan”

“I gave him that photo. Willingly. I told him he could have all of me. And he did. And now everyone else does, too.”

Daniel leaned forward, hands folded like he was holding himself back from reaching out.

“You trusted someone. That’s not a weakness.”

“It was with him.”

“No.” Daniel’s voice sharpened. “What he did was abuse. What you did was try to love someone who didn’t deserve it.”

Ryan’s throat ached. “It still feels like my fault.”

“I know,” Daniel said. “But it isn’t.”

They sat in silence. Thick, unbreathable silence.

Then Daniel said, quietly, “Come with me.”

They didn’t talk on the way to the campus security office.

Daniel walked beside him like a shield. Not touching, but always close. Always steady. When Ryan hesitated at the door, Daniel didn’t push. Just looked at him and waited.

Ryan took a breath.

Then stepped inside.

The report took an hour.

They documented everything: the photo, the posts, the threat messages, even the handwritten note. Daniel spoke when Ryan’s voice faltered. Ryan took over when Daniel’s anger started to show. They moved together like gears one steady, the other holding tension.

By the end of it, Ryan was shaking.

The officer said they’d open a case. That the photos had been pulled down. That there would be an investigation.

Ryan barely heard him.

But he felt Daniel’s hand  not holding, not pulling, just there  brushing his wrist as they left.

And that was what kept him upright.

Later, in Daniel’s apartment again, Ryan sat on the edge of the bed, hands in his lap.

He hadn’t said a word in fifteen minutes.

Daniel stood across the room, pacing slowly.

Then he stopped. Looked over. And asked the question Ryan hadn’t expected.

“Can I hit him?”

Ryan blinked. “What?”

“Jake. Can I hit him?”

Ryan’s mouth twitched. “You’re not serious.”

“I’m very serious.”

“You want to protect me with your fists?”

“No,” Daniel said. “I want to protect you with a legal restraining order, campus policy, and federal cybercrime law. But if that doesn’t work, then yes  fists.”

Ryan laughed. And it hurt, but not in the bad way.

It hurt because it let something in that he hadn’t let in for weeks.

Light.

Care.

Real safety.

“I don’t want you to fix me,” Ryan said softly.

“I don’t want to fix you,” Daniel said. “I just want to hold what’s left while you rebuild.”

Ryan looked up at him.

And for the first time, he didn’t hold back.

He stood, crossed the room, and kissed him.

It wasn’t explosive. It wasn’t perfect.

But it was real.

Daniel froze for a second caught between restraint and instinct.

Then he kissed him back.

And Ryan realized he hadn’t just survived something.

He was starting something new.