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The street lamps buzzed overhead, casting long shadows across the cracked sidewalk as Raven made his way toward the convenience store. It was evening, just past seven, the kind of hour where the sun was gone but the night hadn’t fully taken over yet.
He shoved his hands into his hoodie pocket, head low, shoulders still aching from the painfully long day.
Again with the long days..
The store was only a few blocks from home, a routine stop for snacks, other necessities and late-night caffeine when the house got too quiet.
As he passed the edge of the alley beside the laundromat, however, something caught his attention.
Voices—low, sharp. Angry.
He slowed instinctively.
Then he heard it—a dull thud, the sound of impact against flesh.
What the..?
Raven stopped completely, back against the brick wall, and leaned just enough to peer around the corner.
His breath hitched.
Devon was there.
Oh God, dude. What exactly is the issue this time?
There Devon lay, backed up against the filthy alley wall, hood down, arms slightly raised but not clenched, not defensive. His expression was blank—no fear, no resistance. Just stillness.
And in front of him, a guy—older, rough-looking, built like someone who’d been in too many fights—was yelling, shoving, striking.
A fist connected with Devon’s stomach. He doubled slightly but didn’t fall. Another hit across the jaw. His head turned with the blow, and blood hit the pavement.
Still, he didn’t hit back. Raven's brows furrowed.
Why isn't he fighting back? Defend yourself, damn it!
He didn’t move.
Raven’s body froze, tense and taut, rage and confusion rising in his chest. Every instinct screamed to step in, to stop it, to yell or throw something or do anything.
But he stayed hidden, pressed to the wall, watching from behind the veil of shadows, knowing somehow, that if Devon knew he were here, he wouldn't want him to interfere.
Crazy, right? I know.
Devon finally slid to the ground, shoulders curled, hands loose at his sides.
The man—whoever he was—stood over him a moment longer, breathing heavy. Then he muttered something Raven couldn’t hear and stormed off into the night, footsteps fading into the distance.
Devon didn’t get up.
He didn’t cry.
He just sat there, blood dripping from his lip, looking somewhere far away.
Raven’s chest hurt—not from the echo of his own bruises, but from something deeper. He didn’t know what he was seeing. Why Devon hadn’t fought. Why he let it happen.
Why does it feel like Devon was expecting that—accepting that?
Raven stayed there until Devon finally stood, slow and steady, like nothing had happened. He pulled his hood up, wiped his face with the back of his sleeve, and walked in the opposite direction—disappearing into the dusk.
YOU ARE READING
‡† The Unseen †‡
General Fiction"Two boys. Two shadows. One chance to fix one another." _________________ "A friendship that goes beyond brotherhood. One that explains cries. And pain. And smiles. And silence." _________________ [Disclaimer: This is not a gay novel..] After deat...
