Bully calls you “baby”

The sun’s sinking over the campus rooftops, orange light glinting off the buildings. The door creaks as you step out onto the rooftop — quiet, private, and slightly breezy. You weren’t expecting anyone else. But of course, Roxy’s already there, leaning back against the railing, one boot propped up, clear-tinted shades still somehow catching the sunset just right. Her necklace glints green in the light, just like her eyes — which are already on you.

“Took you long enough,” she smirks, pulling a lollipop from her mouth with a casual flick. “Didn’t think you’d actually show. Thought you might chicken out… baby.” The word hits you like a jab to the chest. "Baby." Said slow. Drawn out. Playful, but personal. You freeze for a second too long, and she notices. Of course she notices. “Aw,” she coos, pushing off the railing and strolling toward you. “Don’t tell me that got you blushing. Seriously?” She stops just inches from you, leans in, and lifts your chin lightly with two gloved fingers. Her eyes are crystal-clear behind those sunglasses.

“That easy to break?” she teases in a whisper, voice warm with something way softer than mockery. “You’re kinda cute when you get all red like that.”

You try to say something. Anything. But your brain’s pure static. “Speechless?” she chuckles, tapping your chest with one finger. “You’re lucky I like that look on you… baby.”

Scene: Roxy Shows Up at His House It’s been days since you showed up on campus. No texts. No sarcastic comebacks. No blushing when she called you “baby.”

At first, Roxy brushed it off. You were probably dodging a paper or playing some pathetic game of “make her worry.” She’d almost rolled her eyes and let it go.

But you didn’t show up on the roof again. And you never missed rooftop days.

Now she’s standing outside your house, one hand stuffed into her jacket pocket, the other curled into a frustrated fist. The porch light flickers dimly above her as she rings the bell.

The door opens.

Not you.

A nurse stands in the doorway — dressed plainly, clipboard under one arm, expression polite but guarded.

“Can I help you?” the nurse asks. Roxy’s heart skips — that feeling she never lets show. “Where is he?” she asks sharply, sunglasses already off, voice lower than usual. “He hasn't been in class. What’s going on?” The nurse pauses, then steps slightly aside, letting Roxy glimpse the hallway inside. “He’s resting. He’s… been under observation the past few days. Stress. Dehydration. Sleep deprivation. Nothing permanent, but it hit him hard.” Roxy blinks. Her fingers twitch. That cocky smirk of hers — gone. “Seriously?” she mutters. “He ran himself that far into the ground…?” The nurse eyes her. “You’re a friend?” Roxy scoffs lightly, looking off to the side. “Something like that.” The nurse considers her for a moment… then nods.

“You can see him. Just for a minute.” Inside His Room The door creaks as Roxy slips in. It’s dim. Quiet. You’re laid out on the bed, a cold pack on your forehead, half-asleep with soft breathing. There are papers on the desk, empty water bottles, textbooks like tiny collapsed buildings.

Roxy just stares for a second. Then walks over, slow and quiet — quieter than anyone would’ve expected from her.

She crouches beside the bed, one arm on her knee.

“You idiot…” she whispers, brushing a stray strand of hair off your forehead with her gloved fingers. “Running yourself into the ground like that…” Her voice breaks the silence. Your eyes flutter open — weak, blurry.

“...Roxy?” She smirks a little, but it’s a sad one. The kind she hates letting anyone see. “Tch. Look at you, baby,” she says softly. “One more missed day and I was gonna kick your door in.” You try to sit up, but she stops you with a gentle shove back down. “Nope. Not today. You’re not getting out of bed unless it’s to drink water or kiss my boots in apology for making me worry this much.” You weakly smile. She scowls — but it’s one of those scowls that’s barely covering how much she actually cares. “You do this again,” she murmurs, fingers brushing your hand, “and I’ll make you regret it in ways you won’t hate... but still.” A pause. “I missed you, baby. Next time, just text. Or scream out the window. I’ll come running.”

Scene: Roxy Confronts the Nurse About Haku The door clicks shut behind her as she steps out of Haku’s room. Roxy leans against the hallway wall, arms folded, lips pressed tight. She's still wearing her shades, but not to hide her smirk this time — to hide the fact that she’s shaken. That she saw him curled up like that. Pale. Thinner than before. Frail.

She doesn’t move when the nurse walks by. Just flicks her head slightly.

“Hey. I want answers.” The nurse stops mid-step, pausing to glance at her. “You’ve seen him now,” the nurse replies gently. “He’s recovering. Give him time.” Roxy tilts her head, the soft click of her tongue breaking the silence. “I don’t need the careful version,” she says. “I want the real one.” The nurse looks at her for a moment — this young woman with the dark lipstick, fingerless gloves, and something too sharp behind her casual posture. “Are you family?” the nurse asks. Roxy scoffs. “No. Not officially. But you think someone like him has much of that?” A pause.

Then the nurse sighs — and leans slightly closer.

“His name is Eden. He doesn’t like using it much. He prefers ‘Haku.’ Or sometimes… ‘Loney,’” she adds, her voice quiet and softer now. “He’s twenty. He’s been through a lot. Chronic pain. Severe depression. Delusions, sometimes. Anxiety that makes it hard for him to even speak without freezing up. And… more scars than you probably noticed.” Roxy’s jaw tightens at that. “I noticed.” The nurse nods, folding her clipboard against her chest. “His condition flared up. Fibromyalgia triggered a full-body pain episode, and he wasn’t eating. His meds weren’t balanced right. When he finally collapsed, someone found him alone in his apartment. No one had checked in for days.” Roxy’s voice is low, tense. “He was alone that long?” “He’s used to being alone,” the nurse replies. “Bullied. Called things like ‘cutter.’ Treated like a freak. Even when people saw his pain, they acted like it was a stain he carried instead of something they could help with.” “And now?” Roxy asks. “Now he’s trying,” the nurse says. “Little by little. He enrolled in college. He got out of bed. He went to class. He… met you, I guess.” Roxy looks away. “I never knew.” “That’s the thing about people like him,” the nurse says. “You don’t know until it’s too quiet. Until they disappear.” Roxy stares down the hall in silence for a moment, then finally pushes off the wall. “I’ll come back tomorrow,” she mutters. “He shouldn’t have to wake up alone again.” The nurse nods. “I think that would mean more than you realize.”

Scene: Dragging Haku Back to Campus — Roxy Style It starts with the roar of an engine. A sleek, matte-black designer coupe pulls up outside Haku’s place—too loud, too aggressive for the quiet neighborhood. The kind of car that says “move or I’ll move you.”

The horn honks once.

Then again.

And then she texts.

ROXY: If you’re not out here in 30 seconds I’m coming in with a megaphone and calling you “baby” loud enough for the neighbors to cry. The door creaks open. Slowly. Hesitantly. Out steps Haku, hoodie half-zipped, hair messy, shadows under his tired red eyes. He’s not ready for this — but it’s Roxy. She’s not exactly easy to say no to. He opens the passenger door, mumbling:

“You’re serious about this?” She pushes her glasses up just enough to meet his eyes directly. “Deadly.” He sighs. She smirks. 📚 At School – Haku’s Return Campus is buzzing. The rumors about the “blood ghost” hadn’t stopped. And now he’s actually back — pale, quiet, sleeves long enough to hide what’s still healing. People stare. Whisper. And Roxy?

Roxy is always watching.

She’s leaning against the wall across every classroom he’s in, sunglasses perched on her head, looking like she owns the place. No, like she dares anyone to question why her boy is back.

Every time someone whispers “Cutter,” she’s already there.

“You got something to say?” A kid flinches. Roxy’s already halfway to them.

“Didn’t think so.”

Every time Haku starts to spiral — when the murmurs grow too loud or his chest starts to tighten — she slides beside him without a word. One hand on his wrist, firm but grounding. “Breathe. Just focus on me.” “They don’t matter. Not when I’m here.” 💢 When Someone Pushes Too Far It finally happens at lunch. A loudmouth from the athletics department bumps into Haku in the hallway. Drops his tray. Mutters:

“Maybe the psycho should stay in bed next time.” And that’s all it takes. Roxy doesn’t even say a word. Her knuckles speak for her.

She slams the guy against the locker with a force that shocks the crowd into silence. Her hand grips his collar, sunglasses now fully off — and her eyes? They’re fire.

“Say that again,” she hisses. “Go ahead. Give me an excuse.” He stammers. She shoves him back, letting him crumple down. “Anyone else?” she says to the silent hallway. “No? Good.” She turns, grabs Haku’s hand, and walks him out of the cafeteria like he’s royalty and she’s the bodyguard who kills for fun. 🌙 Later That Day The sun’s low. Haku’s exhausted, sitting under a tree, knees up, hands shaking slightly. Roxy drops down beside him, not saying anything for a minute.

Then:

“You did good today, Loney,” she murmurs. “Didn’t punch anyone. That’s my job.” He lets out the tiniest smile. “You’re insane.” “Only for you.” Then she leans in, nudging his shoulder with hers. “Next time you disappear, I’m showing up with the car and a matching collar. So don’t test me, baby.”

Scene: Roxy Witnesses One of Haku’s Fights The gym courtyard is silent — too silent. Then, chaos.

A scream. A crash of metal against concrete. Students scatter like ants as Haku’s blood-formed blades erupt from his back, lashing violently in the air. There are four of them, long and fluid, writhing like serpents, snapping out with every breath he takes.

He’s standing in the middle of it, shirt soaked in sweat and blood, hair messy, sticking up at odd angles like he just rolled out of bed during a nightmare. His T-shirt is wrinkled, random — something he probably grabbed off the floor. The neckline hangs low enough to reveal part of a black chain tattoo wrapping around his collarbone and crawling downward across his chest and legs like it’s trying to hold him together.

His arms are a mess — shoddy, half-unraveled bandages, fingernails stained red where he’s scratched through them. His breathing is fast, unsteady. His eyes?

Dead. Intense. Wild.

Like something inside him broke free and doesn’t know how to go back.

Roxy Arrives She hears the commotion before she sees it. Sprints from the main building, heels echoing across the tile, eyes narrowing behind her shades. When she reaches the courtyard, she stops cold. And sees him.

Haku, surrounded by streaks of crimson mist. Students cowering. Some idiot bleeding from a shallow gash — not lethal, just enough to make a point.

Her voice doesn’t come out teasing this time.

“Haku.” He doesn’t respond. His head jerks slightly in her direction, but the rage, the panic, the hurt in his eyes is all-consuming.

Someone behind her mutters:

“He’s lost it again—!” She shuts them up with one glare. Then, calmly, confidently, she steps forward. Facing the Ghost “Haku,” she says again — firmer. “It’s me.” The blades twitch violently, like they don’t trust her. Like he doesn’t trust himself. His breath hitches. His fingers spasm. His knees nearly buckle.

“I didn’t mean to—” he starts, his voice cracking like glass, “—they wouldn’t stop talking—” One of the blades lashes toward the concrete wall beside her in frustration, cracking it. Debris falls. People gasp. Roxy doesn’t even flinch. She walks straight to him.

“Look at me, Loney.” “You’re not a monster. You’re just hurting.” He stares at her — all adrenaline and shame — and his arms tremble violently. The blades retract slightly, unsure. Roxy reaches for his wrist. Her touch is delicate, warm, and real.

“I don’t care what you’re wearing, what your scars look like, or if your blood’s screaming. You’re not scaring me off.” A pause. “You scared me more when you ghosted me, dumbass.” The first blade fully retracts. Then the second.

His chest heaves, breath slowing, as the rest slither back beneath his skin like a dying storm. He collapses forward — not unconscious, just done.

She catches him.

Bandaged arms wrap weakly around her.

He mumbles against her shoulder:

“I didn’t want you to see me like this…” She strokes his hair, sweaty and wild. “Too late, baby.” “Still here.”

Scene: Roxy Babysits Her Broken Boy (aka Baby Haku Day) Morning – The Pickup The black coupe pulls up like clockwork, rumbling to a stop in front of Haku’s place. Haku steps out in slow motion — hoodie draped over his frail frame, sleeves tugged over half-healed arms. Hair brushed just barely. His eyes are still tired, a bit distant, and it’s obvious he shouldn’t be doing this yet.

But Roxy’s already out of the car, slinging his backpack over her own shoulder and practically marching up to him.

“Nope. Not gonna let you zombie your way through today.” She loops his arm around her shoulders like it’s second nature, hand wrapped around his waist to support him as they walk. “We're doing this together, baby. And if anyone so much as breathes too loud near you, I’m swinging.” He mumbles something like “I can walk,” but she shuts it down with a simple: “Don’t care. Let me take care of you for once.” Midday – Classes She sits in every class with him. Not just nearby — beside him. Always between him and the rest of the world. When his leg starts bouncing or his hands fidget under the desk, she just reaches out and gently presses her palm to his knee, anchoring him. No one says anything. They wouldn’t dare.

When the professor asks a question and Haku flinches?

Roxy answers instead. Deadpan. Confident. Like she’s daring anyone to call her out for speaking on his behalf.

Lunchtime – Baby Mode: Engaged Roxy slams her tray down next to him, balancing his tray in one hand like it’s nothing. Rice, grilled chicken, miso soup, something warm and soft that won’t upset his meds. “Eat.” Haku stares at it. “I’m not—” “Not hungry?” she cuts in. “Yeah, well, I’m not letting you faint on me again, so open up.” He sighs. Reluctantly lifts his chopsticks. “...You’re ridiculous.” “I’m your ridiculous.” When he hesitates, hands trembling slightly? She feeds him herself. In full view of the cafeteria.

Fork to his lips. Casual. Completely unfazed.

“C’mon, baby. Don’t make me do the airplane noise.” Haku goes red instantly — cheeks flushing in humiliation — but eats anyway. Nearby students pretend not to stare. Roxy pretends not to enjoy how flustered he gets.

“Cute,” she murmurs under her breath. “You should be like this more often.” End of Day – The Wrap Up By the time the day winds down, Haku’s exhausted again. But he made it through. With Roxy carrying the weight, half-literally. He leans against her in the hallway, his head dropping gently to her shoulder. He mumbles something — soft, almost inaudible:

“...Thanks.” Roxy doesn’t say anything for a second. Just wraps her arm tighter around him, fingers gently brushing his side. “Told you, Loney. I’ve got you.” Then, teasing — but quiet, intimate: “Still gonna call you baby tomorrow. Just... less force-fed chicken. Maybe.”

Scene One: Crashing at Her Place (Movie, Hoodie, Touch-Starved Comfort) After the long day of dragging Haku to class and making sure he ate actual food, Roxy drives them to her place — a clean, high-end apartment in the hills. Sleek furniture. Cold tile. One too many designer pieces she pretends not to care about. But the moment she walks in, she kicks off her boots and shrugs off the attitude like it’s part of her outfit.

“Couch. Now.” Haku stares at the massive L-shaped sofa like it’s something sacred. He awkwardly drops onto it, legs curled up slightly, still in his hoodie — her hoodie now, because he got cold and she wasn’t about to let him freeze in silence. She comes back with snacks and a bottled drink, flopping down beside him.

“I swear if you apologize for breathing one more time, I’m tucking you in like a burrito and never letting you out.” He gives a half-laugh, barely audible. She flips on a movie — something violent and dumb and loud enough to drown out thoughts. But within twenty minutes?

He’s asleep.

Curled under her hoodie, cheek pressed to her collarbone, one hand clinging to her side like he’s afraid she’ll vanish.

Roxy doesn’t say a word. She just gently runs her fingers through his wild white hair, resting her chin on top of his head.

“Sleep, baby,” she whispers. “I’ll guard the world while you rest.” 🥀 Scene Two: Catching Him Skipping Gym — And the Scars He’s Hiding A week later. Haku’s absent from gym class — again.

Roxy notices immediately. She excuses herself without asking and finds him behind the back building, sitting on the cold ground, arms around his knees. Hoodie zipped up too tight. Skin pale. Breath shaky.

“Skipping again?” she says, not angry — just tired. “You promised.” He doesn’t respond. She walks over and crouches in front of him, reaching to tug his sleeve up gently. He flinches.

“Don’t.” “Show me.” He shakes his head. His voice is barely a whisper. “I scratched them again… I didn’t mean to, I just— I was alone and I—” She exhales, slow and deep, eyes never leaving his. “I’m not mad. I just want to see. Please.” Hesitantly, painfully, Haku rolls his sleeve back. The bandages are rushed. Messy. And underneath, angry red lines. Some old. Some raw. But what draws her eyes is the chain tattoo. The way it wraps around his arm, crawling over his shoulder and vanishing into his chest — black, beautiful, haunting. A symbol of weight. Of being bound.

Roxy reaches out, not touching the scars — she hovers her fingers just over the tattoo.

“You ever gonna let me see all of it?” He looks away. “It’s not pretty.” “You think I’m here for ‘pretty’?” She gently lifts his chin. “Baby… I want to see the ugly. The dark. I want all of it. I can take it. Can you let someone do that?” He doesn’t answer — not with words. But he nods. Barely. She leans forward, rests her forehead against his.

“Next time you feel like hurting yourself,” she says softly, “come to me. Hit something. Scream. Just… don’t disappear again.” Then, pulling him gently up: “Now come to gym. You don’t have to lift a damn thing. I’ll fight Coach if I have to.” He chuckles — weak, but real. “You’re intense.” “I’m yours.”

Scene: Private Lessons with Roxy & The Death-Staring Nurse The room is small, quiet, a little too bright — one of the college's admin spaces repurposed for "private academic supervision." There’s a table, two chairs, one overly stiff-looking couch, and a nurse sitting at the corner desk with a clipboard, watching like a hawk. Haku’s hunched over a tablet, hoodie drawn up over his head like he’s trying to disappear. His arms are bandaged cleanly this time — courtesy of the nurse, no doubt. His fingers twitch against the table, anxious, unfocused.

Roxy, sitting across from him in her usual black-on-black designer drip, taps her pen against his worksheet with an exaggerated sigh.

“Okay, Loney. You do two more of these little word problems, and then you’re free to go back to your dungeon or the hospital or wherever your emo soul needs to recharge.” He groans softly. “I hate this.” “You hate everything,” she says sweetly, “except me. So suck it up.” From the corner, the nurse shifts her weight. She doesn’t say a word — she just stares. That kind of stare that screams “I will write a report if you breathe wrong.” Haku mutters under his breath:

“She’s gonna murder me.” Roxy leans in conspiratorially, whispering loud enough for the nurse to definitely hear. “She’s your legal babysitter. Look at her — she’s vibrating with judgment.” The nurse clears her throat. Roxy grins. 🎨 Visual Learning, Roxy-Style Haku struggles to process the text in front of him — the instructions blur, the anxiety fog is thick, and his brain just refuses to connect the dots. Roxy notices. Doesn’t say anything at first. Just taps the screen, then flips her notebook over and starts sketching something fast and messy.

“Alright. Forget the words. Let’s draw it out.” She holds up a rough sketch — cartoon versions of them. Haku with oversized eyes and blood blades. Roxy with devil horns, obviously. There’s a math problem embedded in the chaos: “If Roxy gives Haku three chances to escape gym class, but he fails all of them, how many times will Roxy throw him over her shoulder like a sack of rice?” Haku stares at it. And despite himself… he laughs. Quietly. But real.

“You’re insane.” “And you're learning. Come on, Loney. One more problem and I’ll personally walk you out.” ⏳ After the Work’s Done The nurse checks her clipboard. Two mandatory worksheets: complete. She nods once.

“He’s cleared for departure. Hospital check-in at 3:15. Don't be late again.” Roxy snaps a lazy salute behind her back. “Yes, Warden.” She grabs Haku’s bag and gently tugs his hoodie off his head, brushing his bangs out of his tired eyes. “You survived. Wasn’t even that bad.” “It was awful.” “But I was here.” “...Fair.” As they walk out of the room, Haku leans a little closer to her than usual, just enough that she notices. Roxy doesn’t say anything — she just softly bumps her shoulder into his, lips tugging into a grin. “We’re doing this again tomorrow,” she says. “You’ll complain. I’ll draw memes. And we’ll get you through this mess together.”

Scene: Therapy Day — The Great Underbed Siege Roxy’s apartment is quiet. Too quiet.

She checks her phone.

3:42 PM. Haku’s therapy appointment was at 3:30. She exhales through her nose, already knowing. “He wouldn’t.” She walks down the hall, kicks open the bedroom door with practiced flair. Empty bed. Hoodie still rumpled on the pillow. Flip flops abandoned near the dresser. Room smells faintly of pain ointment and sour anxiety. She crouches down.

There he is.

Curled under the bed like a ghost that gave up on haunting. Arms wrapped around himself, white hair sticking out like a nest. His chain tattoo peeks out from under his oversized T-shirt, lines stretching across his back like a warning sign.

“You skipped your appointment, Loney.” Silence. “You’re under my bed.” Still silence. She squints, then slowly lowers herself until she’s flat on the ground, face-to-face with him in the darkness.

“You planning to become part of the floorboards or...?” Haku’s voice is small, muffled. “Don’t want to go.” “Why?” “They ask questions. I don't wanna talk. I'm tired. My chest hurts. I feel like if I open my mouth I’ll scream or cry or explode or nothing at all and I don't know which is worse.” She watches him for a moment, her expression softening in a way no one else ever sees. Then:

“Okay. Valid.” She reaches under, wraps her fingers around his wrist. “But you’re still going.” He tries to pull away. “Roxy—” “Nope. Nu-uh. You can scream in the waiting room, cry in the elevator, or explode in my car, but you are not hiding under furniture instead of healing.” A pause. “...You’ll be mad at me if I don’t.” “I’m not mad now. I’m worried. There’s a difference. Mad is what I get when people hurt you. This?” She slides under the bed beside him. Just lies there for a second.

“This is me loving you even when you’re a scared little gremlin.” He stares at her — bloodshot eyes glassy, lips trembling. “You... love me?” “Obviously,” she says, rolling her eyes. “You’re my favorite haunted cryptid.” 🖤 Cut To: Five Minutes Later The apartment door swings open. Roxy strides out, keys in hand, sunglasses on. Dragging Haku by the ankle.

“Let’s go, baby. Therapist’s got a chair with your name on it.” He's muttering: “This is abuse—” “This is love with good time management.”