The halls between sixth and seventh period were a mess, noise, movement, the occasional shriek of sneakers sliding across tile.

At the far end of the hall, the Phantom boys walked like they had somewhere better to be.

Dominic, Tyler, and Sky moved shoulder to shoulder, casual but sharp, cutting through the crowd without needing to shove anyone aside.

Their faces were easy...mostly.

Their postures weren't.

Tyler was scowling without meaning to, hands jammed into his pockets. He hated walking through these halls without Tessa beside him.

Sky walked like he was somewhere else entirely, eyes skimming the crowd lazily but cataloguing everything. Every glance, every sneer, every too-long stare.

Dominic looked calm, like always, but inside, he was restless, counting the minutes until he could get the hell out of this building.

Ahead of them, the Musketeers appeared at the other end of the corridor.

Jordan, Declan, and Bennett, talking low, moving in a loose triangle.

Jordan caught sight of them first. His shoulders stiffened automatically instinctive. Protective.

Declan narrowed his eyes slightly. Not hostile. Just...watching. Measuring.

Bennett didn't stop walking, didn't even slow down, but his gaze sharpened as they closed the distance.

For a moment, it was like the air changed charged, tense.

The Phantom boys didn't alter their path.
Neither did the Musketeers.

They passed each other in the middle of the hall.

Not a word spoken.

But everyone felt it.

The quiet aggravation. The lingering wariness. The weight of two groups who weren't enemies, exactly but weren't friends yet either.

Dominic kept his gaze forward.

Sky didn't bother looking at them at all.

Tyler flicked his eyes over Jordan and Declan once, cool and assessing then moved on.

The tension might have bled into nothing if it weren't for what happened next.

As they passed a cluster of lockers, two guys too stupid to know better started talking just a little too loudly.

"Man, Arya's a fucking handful but I bet she's wild—"

"Bet Tessa's even worse. All that anger? You know it's gotta go somewhere—"

"And Davina...God, she could ruin me—"

They didn't get to finish.

Tyler turned so fast it didn't look real.

One step, one pivot, and his fist collided cleanly with the nearest guy's jaw.

The crack of it echoed down the hall.

The kid stumbled back into the lockers with a choked-off noise, hand flying to his face.

Everything in the hall froze.

Dominic stepped up next, calm as you please, his voice low and hard enough to scrape.

"You don't get to talk about them. Not like that."

Sky leaned in on the other side, hands in his pockets, voice soft enough to scare the air itself.

"You even think about saying their names again, you'll wish a broken jaw was the worst thing that happened."

The second guy paled and scrambled back without another word.

The Phantom boys didn't even look at each other.

Didn't need to.

It was instinct.

Automatic.

Behind them, the Musketeers watched in silence.

Jordan let out a slow, impressed breath he didn't realise he'd been holding.

Declan's jaw ticked once, almost approvingly.

Bennett didn't move at all, just kept his eyes on the Phantom boys, filing the moment away.

Respect. Quiet, grudging. Unspoken.

The Phantom boys made brief eye contact with them as they straightened up.

No nods. No smiles.

Just understanding.

And then, as if nothing had happened, both groups moved on.

The crowd started breathing again only after they were gone.