Riven Hale | Bros Over Hoes They Say?

His name was Riven Hale.

And his best friend—more like his brother at this point—was Kade Mercer.

They’d been stuck together since elementary school, the kind of friendship that didn’t need explaining. The kind where silence wasn’t awkward, where fights didn’t last, where they’d seen each other at their worst and still stuck around anyway.

But Kade had a problem.

Actually… a few.

---

The classroom still smelled faintly like dry erase marker and cheap cologne as the bell rang—shrill, echoing down the hall like it always did, cutting through conversations mid-sentence. Chairs scraped against the floor, backpacks zipped, and the low hum of students talking immediately swelled into something louder, messier.

“—and if you actually read the syllabus,” their professor called out over the noise, adjusting his glasses, “you’d know the midterm is next Thursday, not Monday. Please don’t email me tonight asking that.”

A couple of people laughed. Someone groaned.

Riven didn’t.

He was already halfway tuned out, shoving his notebook into his bag with one hand while his other fished his phone out of his pocket. His headphones—black with that tiny, subtle band logo etched into the side—slipped into place as he tapped his screen.

Music flooded in.

Low, distant, familiar.

He exhaled through his nose, shoulders loosening just a little as the world dulled at the edges.

Kade, meanwhile, was still talking.

Of course he was.

“—I’m just saying, man, like… did you see her today?” Kade kept pace beside him as they pushed through the doorway into the crowded hallway, his voice already picking up that slightly frantic energy he got when he was stuck in his own head. “Her hair looked different. Like—like she did something to it. Not a lot, just—y’know, subtle.”

Riven didn’t answer right away. He scrolled lazily through his feed, thumb flicking up, barely registering what he was seeing.

“Riven.”

A pause.

“Riven.”

He sighed, pulling one earbud out. “What.”

Kade looked mildly offended. “I’ve been talking.”

“Yeah. I noticed.”

They moved with the flow of students, shoulders brushing strangers, lockers slamming somewhere to their left. Someone laughed too loud. Someone else was arguing about a group project.

Kade shoved his hands into his hoodie pockets. “You’re not even listening, are you?”

Riven glanced at him, expression flat but not mean. Just… tired. “You’re talking about her again.”

Kade didn’t deny it.

Instead, he ran a hand through his already messy hair, exhaling. “She’s just—” He cut himself off, searching for the word, then huffed. “You wouldn’t get it.”

Riven gave a quiet, humorless laugh. “Try me.”

Kade looked at him like it was obvious. “She’s not like the other girls I’ve dated.”

That made Riven snort.

“Yeah,” he muttered, slipping his phone back into his pocket, “because she barely talks to you.”

Kade stopped walking.

Like—actually stopped.

Which made Riven take two more steps before realizing, turning back with a faint look of annoyance. “What?”

Kade blinked at him. “That’s not—okay, that’s not the point.”

Riven raised an eyebrow.

“It’s not,” Kade insisted, stepping forward again, lowering his voice a bit like that somehow made his argument stronger. “She’s just… different. She’s not all over people, she doesn’t try too hard, she just—exists, y’know? And it’s like—” He made a vague motion with his hands. “I don’t know. I like that.”

Riven stared at him for a second.

Then shook his head slightly, turning and continuing down the hall. “So ask her out.”

Kade froze again.

“…what?”

Riven didn’t stop this time. “Ask. Her. Out.”

“I can’t just do that,” Kade said quickly, catching up, his voice dropping like Riven had just suggested something insane. “You don’t just walk up to someone like her and ask them out. That’s—no. There’s steps.”

Riven rolled his eyes.

“Steps?” he repeated.

“Yeah, steps,” Kade said, nodding like it made perfect sense. “You gotta talk to her first. Then, like… become friends. Then you build something. Then maybe you—”

“Or,” Riven cut in, glancing sideways at him, “you skip all that and just ask.”

Kade scoffed. “That’s how you get rejected.”

Riven shrugged. “That’s life.”

Kade started rambling again—something about timing, about not wanting to mess it up, about how it had to be “right.” Riven only half-listened, gaze drifting, expression dulling again as his friend spiraled into overthinking.

It wasn’t new.

None of this was new.

Kade always did this—built things up in his head until they were bigger than they actually were. Made people into something they couldn’t live up to. Riven had seen it happen before.

More than once.

And it never ended well.

For anyone.

Still…

Riven sighed.

“Alright,” he said finally, cutting through the rant.

Kade blinked. “What?”

“I’ll help you.”

That shut him up.

“…help me?” Kade repeated, cautious.

“Yeah,” Riven said, like it wasn’t a big deal. “I’ll talk to her. See what she’s like. Maybe… nudge things in your favor.”

Kade stared at him, processing.

Then—

“…that’s actually—” He let out a small laugh, a little surprised. “That’s actually not a bad idea.”

“Wow,” Riven deadpanned. “High praise.”

Kade ignored that, already nodding. “Yeah, yeah, okay. That could work. That’s—yeah. That’s good.”

Riven just hummed, glancing ahead—

—and that’s when he saw you.

Sitting on the steps near the end of the hall.

Backpack beside you.

Waiting.

Not on your phone. Not talking to anyone. Just… there.

Kade was still talking, but Riven wasn’t listening anymore.

“…I could, like, come in later, you know? Not immediately, but after you—”

“I’ll do it now.”

Kade blinked. “What?”

But Riven was already moving.

---

The hallway noise softened as he got closer—not because it actually got quieter, but because his focus narrowed.

You.

The details came into view slowly.

Your backpack first—covered in patches and pins. Not the basic kind either. Real ones. Bands that not everyone knew, stitched edges slightly worn. A couple game references too—subtle, not overdone. Stuff people only recognized if they actually played.

Riven noticed all of it.

Of course he did.

He slowed just a little as he reached you, then leaned forward slightly—not enough to invade your space, but enough to make his presence known.

Up close, he could hear the faint buzz of conversation behind him, the squeak of sneakers on polished floors, someone calling out a name down the hall.

Then he crouched beside you.

“Your backpack’s kinda sick,” he said casually.

No hesitation. No awkwardness.

Just… straightforward.

You looked at him.

There was a pause.

Then a quiet, simple, “Thanks.”

Riven nodded once, like that was enough.

Because it was.

He let his gaze flick over the patches again, more deliberately this time. “You’ve got good taste,” he added, a little quieter. “Most people just slap whatever’s trending on there.”

A beat.

Then he held his hand out.

“Riven.”