Chapter Text
The drive home felt far more agonizing than usual. David drove his beloved red Ferrari with one hand, while the other occasionally touched his throbbing jaw. Every time he swallowed, the metallic taste of blood lingered on the tip of his tongue. The bruising on his face from Owen’s punch was starkly visible.
Why did Owen punch him? It was simple. David had been the one to pick a fight with the blond. Everyone knew that the two best hockey players at Ludwig High School hated each other's guts. Today was the selection for the team captain. Both of them compete against each other if whoever scores first will be the captain for the final season. David and Owen had been locked in a fierce rivalry all week. Honestly deep down, David wasn't particularly ambitious nor did he really want the captain's armband. He was well aware that Owen was far more disciplined and at times had a better grasp of what true teamwork meant. David had often considered intentionally easing up on his game and letting Owen win just so he wouldn't have to shoulder such a heavy responsibility.
As for Owen, David’s attitude was incredibly irritating. The whole school knows that David is a playboy disguised as a popular athlete who likes to charm and play with other people's attention. To Owen, David embodied everything frivolous like arrogance, restlessness, and the tendency to act as if the world revolved around him. Typical rich kid. Owen’s aversion to that laid-back, flirtatious demeanor made his jaw clench whenever David drew near, he assumed David was just messing with him, treating his position on the team like nothing more than a trivial wager.
The match between the two ended with David scoring first. All his teammates immediately rushed onto the ice to congratulate him. Owen finally threw his helmet down and hurried to the locker room. The locker room was empty. Owen was removing his hockey gear when David strolled in. He stopped right in front of Owen flashing the cocky grin that always managed to get under the blonde young man's skin.
"You look so disappointed, babe," David said, deliberately trying to provoke a reaction. "Want me to help you submit my resignation already to the coach?"
Owen turned his head and glared at David with narrowed eyes. "Get out of here, Conti. Don't mess with me now."
Instead of backing away David stepped closer. Before Owen could move, David pinned him against the row of locker doors behind him, blocking his movement with both hands on the metal. David bent down slightly, leaned close to Owen's ear and whispered in a deliberately mocking tone, "If you want to be captain that badly—just kiss me. Maybe I'll consider handing it over."
Hearing that, Owen pushed David and immediately swung his fist to hit David's jaw in succession. The blow was so powerful that it threw David's head to the side. The fishy taste of blood immediately pressed into his mouth. Yet, David made no attempt to retaliate. He didn't raise his hands to defend himself or throw a punch back. He just raised his head again, spat a little blood on the floor, then looked at Owen with the same grin. The smile Owen hated most in the world.
That, more or less, is why David ended up with a battered face today.
Now there was only one thing on David’s mind. He hoped that when he arrived at the mansion, his parents wouldn't show their presence considering they always had busy schedules. If they saw the bluish bruise on his face, they would undoubtedly fly into a rage and potentially cause a massive scene at Ludwig High School. David didn't want that to happen. Once his car was parked in the lower garage, he stepped in through the side door and opened it slowly then carefully sticking his head out first to make sure the situation was safe. Finding the hallway deserted and seeing no signs of anyone else, he let out a sigh of relief and began to creep forward. His steps felt light as he managed to get halfway through the corridor and almost reached the main stairs leading to his room. But to get there, he had to cross the living room area first.
Unfortunately, just as he walked past the large velvet sofa, a voice he knew all too well broke the silence of the night.
"David? Are you home?"
David froze in his tracks. He closed his eyes for a moment cursing his bad luck. His first instinct was to lift his bag to cover half his face hoping it would hide the bruise on his jaw. With a stiff smile that felt painful at the corners of his lips, he turned his head slowly towards the source of the sound.
"Hi, Papa—you're home already?" David greeted as calmly as possible, even though his voice was a little muffled behind his bag.
Caleb was sitting on one of the living room sofas, having apparently just set an interior design magazine down on the table. He raised an eyebrow at his son’s odd behavior. "Yes, baby. My photoshoot wrapped up early, so I was able to come home sooner." Caleb looked David up and down with a suspicious gaze. "Why are you standing there so stiffly? And why is that bag covering your face? Have you had dinner, baby?"
"Oh, this? It's nothing. I'm just—tired," David replied with a stiff laugh. He began to step back slowly making his way toward the stairs. "I also had dinner at school so then, I'm going to my room to rest. Night, Papa."
David felt he almost escaped. His feet had already stepped past the sofa where Caleb was sitting, and the stairs were only a few steps away when suddenly his movement stopped when he felt a hand on his shoulder.
“Wait a minute, David,” Caleb’s voice sounded very close.
Before David could get away, Caleb grabbed the hand holding the bag, lowered the object from in front of David's face and turned his son's body so he was facing directly towards the lighting from the living room chandelier. Caleb was stunned in place. "Oh my goodness, what happened?!" Caleb exclaimed immediately, his eyes widening at the corner of David's torn lip and the purplish bruise along his jawline. His voice trembled between shock and emotion. "Who did this to you, David?! Who dared touch my baby like this?"
David panicked instantly, waving his hands in the air as he tried to calm Caleb down. "Calm down, Papa! This is normal in hockey. Collisions happen all the time!"
"Normal? What kind of collision leaves your face battered like this?!" Caleb retorted, his voice rising several octaves. He held both sides of his son's face carefully as he examined the wound with a gaze that was starting to turn red with anger. "Unbelievable! Tell me right now—who did this to my son? If your Dad finds out—"
"Oh god, don't let Dad find out!" David cut in. He even more panicked at the thought of Arian suddenly showing up. He swallowed hard then let out a resigned huff. "Fine! Okay—Owen. He hit me in the face."
Caleb fell silent for a moment. His brows furrowed deeply as if trying to process the name his son had just heard. "Owen? Owen—that blond haired, green eyed boy?" he asked incredulously. "How could a sweet boy like him end up hitting you?"
“How do you know about Owen, Papa?” David asked in surprise.
“Of course I know, he’s your rival, isn’t he? The whole school knows you two don’t get along.”
David snorted softly. "I told you, Papa. Stop being a stalker—ow!"
Caleb shot him a sharp glare and then gave his son’s arm a swift, stinging pinch. "I’m not a stalker!" he retorted. "As a parent, I have the right to know what you’re doing at school, David Conti."
The boy winced slightly, rubbing the arm Caleb had just pinched. Caleb crossed his arms over his chest and fixed his son with a serious look. "Listen carefully, stop bothering Owen! If a sweet kid like him hits you this badly, it means he's really run out of patience with your annoying behavior. Don't cause any more trouble with him. Besides—don't you like him?"
“How did you know?!” David was stunned. He didn't expect Caleb to know that part, "No—it's not like that."
“Of course I know everything. You are my baby,” Caleb paused. “"Look at my sweet baby! He’s starting to fall for someone!" Caleb said, amused by his child’s flustered behavior. "Just be honest instead of acting like a rival like that."
“I slipped a love letter into his locker and tried to get his attention—but I think he really hates me and I’m not even sure Owen read the letter.”
Caleb’s eyes went wide at the confession. He covered his mouth with both hands and let out a stifled squeal, his eyes sparkling with delight. "Oh my god, David!" Caleb exclaimed joyfully, shaking his son’s shoulders with irrepressible fondness. "You? Sending a love letter? In this modern era?! Oh my, that's so sweet and classic!"
David groaned softly, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration. His face was even redder than before, burning with sheer embarrassment. "Papa, please, don't start. I’m heartbroken here—I got flat out rejected with a punch to the face."
"Heartbroken, my foot," Caleb shot back. He cupped the uninjured side of David's face as he looked at his son with a wide smile that hadn't faded. "Look, you can't go around acting like a jerk every day and then suddenly slip in a romantic love letter. Of course Owen was confused and annoyed—he thought you were just messing with him! But at least you’re finally brave enough to be honest with yourself." Caleb squealed softly again, chuckling as he affectionately smoothed down David’s hair. "Ah, my baby is all grown up. You’re lucky your dad flew to Sicily tonight on business, though. That way, you won't have to see him fly into a rage over that bruise on your face."
David let out a long sigh, his tense shoulders finally slumping. "Thank God," he murmured as if he’d just narrowly escaped a major disaster.
"Alright, go on up to your room," Caleb said, giving David’s arm a gentle pat. "I’ll bring up some ice for your jaw in a bit."
David nodded quickly, grateful that this embarrassing conversation was finally over. Without needing to be told twice, he grabbed his bag and bounded up the stairs, half-running to escape any further teasing from his father. Caleb stood in the living room watching his son go with an affectionate gaze. As soon as his son’s figure vanished at the top of the stairs, the laughter he had been holding back escaped in a soft chuckle. He shook his head slowly, smiling broadly to himself as he looked at the empty staircase.
"How sweet," Caleb murmured, chuckling at the thought of how awkward the Conti heir became when love-struck. He then turned toward the kitchen with a light heart, ready to get some ice ready for his beloved son. “Maybe I should do something—” he said while giggling.