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The alley behind the convenience store was dimly lit, the flickering fluorescent sign overhead casting long shadows on the cracked asphalt. Fadel had just finished a late-night supply run for the restaurant, his hands full of bags, when the sound of raised voices caught his attention.
He froze, his dark eyes scanning the narrow street. It didn’t take him long to locate the source—a group of men standing too close to someone smaller, cornering them near the wall.
His stomach twisted when he recognized the figure in the hoodie.
Style.
The loudest of the men leaned in, his voice mocking and slurred. “Where you going, sweetheart? Thought we were having a conversation.”
Style’s head was tilted upward, his usual bravado evident in the sharp edge of his voice. “Not interested, thanks. Why don’t you move along before this gets embarrassing for you?”
The words were bold, but Fadel could see the tension in Style’s stance, the slight tremor in his hands.
The man barked a laugh, clearly unfazed. “Feisty one, huh? I like that.”
Fadel dropped the bags without a second thought, the plastic rustling loudly in the stillness of the alley. The sound made all heads turn toward him.
He stepped forward, his broad shoulders and steady gait immediately commanding attention. “Is there a problem here?”
The men hesitated, sizing him up. Fadel was taller, stronger, and far too calm for their liking.
“None of your business, man,” one of them muttered, though his confidence wavered.
“It is now,” Fadel said, his voice low and cold. His gaze flicked to Style, checking for any sign of injury. “Get out of here. All of you.”
One of the men took a step forward, as if testing Fadel’s resolve, but the sharp, unwavering look in Fadel’s eyes stopped him cold.
“Not worth it,” another muttered, grabbing his friend’s arm and pulling him back. One by one, they retreated, disappearing into the night with mumbled curses.
When they were gone, the tension in the alley seemed to dissipate, but Fadel remained where he was, his hands clenched into fists.
Style straightened, brushing imaginary dust off his hoodie. “Well, that was dramatic,” he said, his voice too casual, too light.
“Are you okay?” Fadel asked, his tone clipped.
Style grinned, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Of course. I had it under control.”
“Under control?” Fadel repeated, his disbelief evident. “They had you cornered.”
“Yeah, but I was doing the whole ‘intimidating charm’ thing. It was working. Probably.”
Fadel stared at him, his frustration bubbling just beneath the surface. “This isn’t funny, Style.”
Style’s grin faltered, and for a moment, he looked like he wanted to say something else. Instead, he shrugged. “Well, thanks for the save, hero. Guess I owe you one.”
Fadel sighed, running a hand through his hair. “You don’t owe me anything. Just… be more careful.”
Style’s smirk returned, though it was softer now. “What, you worried about me?”
Fadel didn’t answer.
They walked in silence toward the main road, the sound of their footsteps filling the void. The streetlights cast long shadows, and the distant hum of traffic made the world feel far away.
When they reached the corner, Style paused, shoving his hands into his pockets. “Guess this is me,” he said, nodding toward the direction of his garage.
Fadel nodded, but his feet didn’t move.
Style tilted his head, his expression curious. “You okay?”
“I was just…” Fadel hesitated, his words catching in his throat. “What if I hadn’t been there?”
Style blinked, taken aback by the rawness in Fadel’s voice. “I mean, it’s not like I haven’t handled myself before. I would’ve been fine.”
Fadel shook his head. “You don’t know that.”
Style opened his mouth to respond but stopped when he saw the look in Fadel’s eyes. It wasn’t anger or frustration—it was fear.
“I didn’t need saving,” Style said quietly, his tone lacking its usual edge.
“Maybe not,” Fadel admitted, his voice low. “But I’m glad I was there anyway.”
Style’s grin reappeared, small and genuine. “Well, aren’t you just full of surprises tonight.”
Fadel didn’t reply, his jaw tightening as he looked away.
“Hey,” Style said, nudging him lightly with his elbow. “Seriously, though. Thanks.”
Fadel finally met his gaze, and for a moment, something unspoken passed between them—something Fadel wasn’t ready to acknowledge.
“Just get home safe,” he said, his voice steady but distant.
Style nodded, his grin widening as he turned and walked away, his figure disappearing into the shadows.
Fadel stood there for a long moment, the quiet night pressing down on him.
He’d always thought he knew himself—calm, controlled, unattached. But tonight had shaken something loose, leaving him with a gnawing realization he couldn’t ignore.
He cared about Style.
More than he should.
And it terrified him.