The fluorescent lights buzzed overhead in the empty Secondary 4 classroom, casting a sterile glow on the rows of desks. It was after school, and the air was thick with the stale scent of chalk dust and teenage sweat. Ryan, a wiry, cocky boy with a smirk that could cut glass, leaned against the teacher’s desk, arms crossed. His eyes were locked on Ethan, the nerdy kid hunched over his textbooks at the back of the room, oblivious—or pretending to be.

“Oi, Nerd!,” Ryan called out, his voice dripping with mockery. “You gonna sit there all day jerking off to your math homework, or you got something better to do?”

Ethan didn’t look up. His pencil scratched against the paper, steady and deliberate. His sleeves were rolled up past his elbows, exposing those arms—pale, lean, but laced with veins that bulged like rivers under his skin. Ryan’s pulse quickened just looking at them, though he’d never admit it. That’s why he was here. That’s why he always picked on Ethan. Those damn arms made his stomach twist in a way he couldn’t explain, and he hated it—hated him for it.

“Fuckin’ mute, huh?” Ryan pushed off the desk and sauntered over, his sneakers scuffing the tiles. He towered over Ethan’s seated form, casting a shadow across the page. “Look at me when I’m talking to you, freak.”

Ethan’s hand paused. Slowly, he lifted his head, his glasses slipping slightly down his nose. His hazel eyes met Ryan’s, calm and unreadable. “What do you want, Ryan?” he asked, voice low, almost bored.

Ryan sneered, leaning down until their faces were inches apart. “I want you to stop being such a pathetic little bitch. Sitting here all alone, flexing those creepy-ass veins like you think you’re hot shit.” He grabbed Ethan’s wrist, yanking it up to inspect the arm. The veins pulsed under his grip, and Ryan’s breath hitched—he masked it with a cruel laugh. “What’s this, huh? You jerk off with these hands and think about me?”

Ethan didn’t flinch. Instead, his lips twitched, the faintest hint of a smirk. “You’re the one touching me,” he said coolly. “Kinda makes me wonder what you’re thinking about.”

The words hit Ryan like a slap. His grip tightened, nails digging into Ethan’s skin. “Watch your mouth, nerd, or I’ll shove those books down your throat.” But his voice cracked—just a little—and Ethan caught it.

Slowly, deliberately, Ethan flexed his arm under Ryan’s hold. The veins popped, straining against the surface, a quiet show of power that sent a jolt through Ryan’s core. He froze, his eyes locked on the movement, heat creeping up his neck. Ethan tilted his head, studying him like a specimen under a microscope.

“You like that, don’t you?” Ethan’s voice was soft now, almost a whisper, but it carried a razor’s edge. “All this time, you’ve been picking on me just to get a closer look.”

“Shut up,” Ryan snapped, shoving Ethan’s arm back down. But his hand lingered a second too long, and Ethan noticed. Of course he did. The nerd was too smart for his own good.

Ethan leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms casually—another subtle flex, another pulse of those veins. “You’re not fooling anyone, Ryan. You’re practically drooling right now.”

Ryan’s face flushed red, a mix of rage and something else he refused to name. He slammed his hands on Ethan’s desk, leaning in close again, his voice a low growl. “You think you’re better than me? You’re nothing. A scrawny little geek with a hard-on for equations. I could break you.”

Ethan didn’t blink. He pushed his glasses up with one finger, then stood—slowly, deliberately—until he was eye-to-eye with Ryan. He wasn’t as weak as he looked; his frame was wiry, taut with a quiet strength. He flexed again, this time letting his bicep strain against his shirt, the veins snaking up his forearm like a challenge. “Go ahead,” he said, voice steady. “Break me. If you’ve got the balls.”

Ryan’s mouth went dry. He wanted to hit him—wanted to wipe that smug look off his face—but his body betrayed him. His eyes flicked to Ethan’s arm again, and his hands twitched at his sides. Ethan stepped closer, close enough that Ryan could feel the heat radiating off him.

“You’re shaking,” Ethan murmured, his tone mocking now, dripping with control. “What’s wrong, tough guy? Not so big and bad when I’m not cowering, huh?”

“Fuck you,” Ryan spat, but it came out weak, desperate. He shoved Ethan back, but the nerd barely stumbled—just stood there, smirking, flexing those damn arms like he knew exactly what it was doing to him.

Ethan tilted his head, his voice dropping to a taunting whisper. “You’re hard right now, aren’t you? All because of me. Poor little Ryan, bullying me just to hide how much you want this.”

Ryan lunged, grabbing Ethan’s collar, but Ethan didn’t resist. He just stood there, cool and collected, letting Ryan’s hands tremble against him. “Say it again,” Ryan hissed, his breath ragged. “I dare you.”

Ethan leaned in, lips brushing Ryan’s ear as he whispered, “You. Want. Me.”

The room spun. Ryan shoved him away, stumbling back, his chest heaving. Ethan adjusted his glasses, sat back down, and picked up his pencil like nothing had happened. “Run along now,” he said, not even looking up. “Unless you want to stay and admit it.”

Ryan stood there, fists clenched, caught between fury and something darker, hotter. He stormed out, slamming the door behind him—but not before stealing one last glance at those veiny arms, still flexing subtly as Ethan wrote.