The camp party had gotten out of control. Music thundered, students danced in a wild frenzy, and the air smelled of alcohol and smoke. Ryan guided Siya through the crowd, trying to keep her steady on her feet.

"Just a little further," he muttered, holding her arm. "Stay close."

But then, out of nowhere, a wild wave of students surged toward them-boys pushing, girls shrieking, someone throwing confetti into the air. It was chaos. Ryan tightened his grip on Siya's wrist, but in the crush of bodies, she slipped away.

"Siya!" His voice was sharp, alarmed.

She stumbled backward, swallowed by the mob. Before Ryan could cut through, a group of girls closed in on her, snickering. They held her arms, pretending to steady her, but their eyes gleamed with mischief.

"Aw, look at the poor drunk nerd," one of them mocked. "Let's give her a memory to keep."

And then Jason appeared-smirking, reeking of alcohol, his phone already in hand.

"Perfect timing," he drawled. "Let's get some pictures. Won't she look cute?" He tilted his phone, the flash about to go off, as the girls shoved Siya toward him.

Siya's hazy mind barely processed what was happening. She tried to pull free, but her movements were clumsy. Panic rose in her throat, yet no words came out.

Jason leaned closer, his smirk widening. "Smile for the camera, Siya."

Siya blinked hard, her vision blurry, but she could still see Jason's disgusting grin through the haze. Her stomach churned-whether from the alcohol or the fear, she didn't know.

The girls laughed, holding her arms, egging Jason on. The phone's flash clicked once-half-blurred photo-but that was enough to jolt something inside her.

With a sudden surge of adrenaline, Siya jerked her knee upward, hard. One of the girls yelped as Siya stomped on her foot and tore her arm free. She swung clumsily, shoving Jason's phone away.

"Don't you dare touch me!" she shouted, her voice trembling but fierce.

Jason staggered back a step, his smirk faltering into anger. "Feisty little-" he started, reaching for her wrist again.

But Siya, though unsteady, scratched his arm and shoved him with all her strength. "Stay away!"

The girls gasped, shocked that their "easy target" suddenly wasn't so easy. Jason's face twisted, and he raised his hand as if to grab her harder-

And then a shadow loomed.

Ryan.

His hand caught Jason's wrist mid-air, grip iron-strong, eyes blazing.

"Touch her again, and you won't have a hand left."

The laughter died instantly. Even in the chaos of the camp party, silence fell in their little circle.

Ryan shoved through the last of the crowd like a force of nature and scooped Siya up before anyone else could grab at her. Her weight was heavier than he expected; the alcohol and panic had sapped her strength. He navigated past the throng, muttering at anyone who tried to stop him, and finally burst into the relative quiet of Tent No. 14.

He sat down on the edge of his cot and, carefully because she was still wobbly, eased her into his lap. The heat of the lantern and the close press of canvas made the tent feel suddenly small and private.

Siya's face crumpled. The drunk bravado had gone; under it was a raw, aching hurt. Sobs came out in wet, hiccuping gasps. He held her because there was nowhere else to put her, because arms felt safer than words.

"Why-why nobody can love me, ryan ? Is it because I look weird or because I am not rich or good in any elite activity ?" she slurred, tears tracking down her cheeks.

Ryan's jaw softened; any earlier flippancy evaporated. He brushed a damp strand of hair from her face, voice low and steady.

"Who told you that, Siya? You're not weird. You look-absolutely fine. Cute, even. and what activity can be more elite than studies you literally are a perfect student ."

She hiccupped a laugh that turned into a sob.

"Then why do people hate me so much? Nobody talks to me... nobody wants to be with me everyboey use me like trash like an OTP ."

He tightened his hold, deliberate and calming.

"I'm here, Siya. I talk to you, lucas jake we all talk to you . And we don't hate talking to you."

For a heartbeat the words seemed to reach her; she melted a little into him. Then, in a small, furious whisper, she pushed off his shoulder and glared up through her tears.

"Liar! You're lying. You treat me coldly-you give me cold replies."

Ryan flinched like he'd been punched. He didn't snap back or argue. Instead he inhaled, choosing his next words carefully. He put both hands lightly on her shoulders so she could see his face. His voice was close and earnest.

"I'm not lying. I'm not good at the soft stuff, Siya. I don't do dramatic lines or long speeches. But that doesn't mean I don't care. If anyone treats you like trash again, I'll make them regret it. I'll be blunt, I'll be cold sometimes-I know that. But I'm here. I'm not walking away."

She let that settle in. The alcohol made her blink slower, the sorrow ebbing into exhaustion. She leaned her head against his chest and mumbled, barely audible:

"Promise?"

He tightened his arms once, a quiet oath.

"Promise."

They stayed like that for a long time: the tent breathing around them, the distant party noise muffled, two people in a small pool of lantern light. No speeches. No grand declarations. Just a promise, an awkward comfort, and a silence that felt, for once, like it might actually be enough.

........

Ryan felt Siya's breathing hitch against his chest, the hiccups slowing, the sobs softening into small shivers. Her fists, which had been pressed against his shirt a few minutes ago, loosened until her palms just rested there limply.

He adjusted, carefully laying her down on her side of the bed, but as soon as he tried to move away, her hand clutched at his wrist.

"Don't... go," she mumbled, eyes half-closed.

Ryan froze. He hadn't expected that. For a second, instinct screamed at him to pull away, to keep distance. But then he saw her face-tear-stained, tired, fragile in a way she'd never let anyone see if she were sober.

He sat back down, leaning against the wall of the tent. Gently, he pried his wrist free and replaced it with his hand over hers. Her grip relaxed.

"I'm here," he whispered, more to the quiet air than to her.

The tent filled with silence again, the muffled bass of the party outside fading as the night stretched on. Ryan watched her until her breathing evened out into the slow, steady rhythm of sleep.

For the first time that night, he let his own shoulders sink, eyes tracing the lantern's glow dancing across the canvas. Something strange tugged at his chest-a heaviness he couldn't quite name.

Not love. Not yet. But not nothing, either.

He stayed there, awake, keeping watch. Because for reasons he didn't fully understand, leaving her alone wasn't an option anymore.

Siya woke up with a pounding headache, clutching her temples. The morning sun filtered in, too bright for her heavy eyes. She turned, startled to see Ryan sitting casually on a chair nearby, scrolling through his phone like it was the most ordinary thing in the world.

"Bosco... what happened last night?" she asked carefully.

Ryan glanced up, his lips quirking slightly. "You mean apart from you stealing the spotlight with your terrible drunk dance moves?"

Her eyes widened. "W-what? I didn't-"

"Relax," he cut in, shaking his head with a faint chuckle. "Some jealous brats spiked your drink. Jason tried something disgusting, I stepped in. End of story."

Siya bit her lip, guilt rushing in. "I'm sorry... I must've caused you so much trouble."

Ryan leaned back, folding his arms, and smirked. "Seriously, Sharma? Don't you have any other words in your dictionary other than 'thank you' and 'sorry'?"

She blinked at him, caught off guard. "Then... what should I say?"

Ryan's eyes softened in a way that almost didn't feel like him. "Nothing. Just... try not to cry into my shirt next time."

Siya froze. "I-I did what?"

But Ryan had already stood up, throwing her a maddeningly calm look. "Forget it. You won't remember anyway."

Her heart skipped, confusion swirling. Since when does Ryan Bosco talk like that? Since when does he... sound almost tender?

She hugged the blanket tighter around herself, cheeks warm, trying to figure out if he was teasing... or letting her see a side of him no one else did.

Ryan slung his bag over his shoulder, glancing at Siya still sitting on the bed, dazed.

"Don't you have to come to camp? Get ready," he said flatly, checking his watch. "I won't wait too much."

Siya blinked at him, surprised. "Wait... you'll wait for me?"

Ryan shot her a look, half amused, half exasperated. "Don't get the wrong idea, Sharma. You've got fifteen minutes. I don't like being late."

Her lips curved into the faintest smile despite her pounding head. He was acting like it was nothing, but the fact that Ryan Bosco-the guy who never cared about anyone's pace but his own-was actually willing to wait for her... that meant something.

As he turned toward the door, Siya whispered to herself, barely audible, "Since when do you even wait for anyone, Bosco?"

Ryan's voice came, cool as ever, though she swore she caught a ghost of a smile. "Since when do you take longer than fifteen minutes?"

And just like that, he was gone, leaving Siya staring after him, more confused than ever.