Theo Alvarez

The story mostly takes place around a regular high school, but everything feels a little more intense than it should. Social circles are strict, reputations matter, and people fall into roles fast—athletes, band kids, quiet kids, popular girls. Hevel sits at the center of it all. He’s the loud, confident football player everyone knows, the one people watch during games and talk about after. His life looks easy from the outside, but there’s pressure behind it, mostly coming from his dad, who’s deeply involved in a strange, controlling belief system that Hevel doesn’t fully understand but is still expected to follow.

Theo exists outside of that spotlight. He’s not unpopular, just not part of anything loud or defined. He drifts between spaces—classes, hallways, bleachers—without trying to belong to one group. He notices things more than people realize, and even though he doesn’t chase attention, he ends up getting pulled into it anyway once Hevel starts taking an interest in him.

Their connection starts small—random conversations, arguments, sitting near each other—and turns into something constant. They bicker, push each other, and don’t really agree on much, but they keep ending up together like it’s automatic. Hevel brings chaos and energy, Theo pushes back and questions things, and neither of them fully understands why they don’t just walk away.

Cius fits into this as the third piece, mostly through shared time rather than intention. He’s in a band, quieter, more closed off, and not really part of the same social world as Hevel either. He and Theo argue just as much, if not more, but there’s a weird consistency to it—they’re always near each other, even when they don’t seem like they want to be. Cius’s girlfriend adds tension, especially around Theo, making things feel sharper and more competitive in certain moments.

A lot of their dynamic plays out in in-between spaces—after school, empty parking lots, late-night drives with no real destination, sitting around doing nothing but still staying together. It’s messy, loud sometimes, quiet other times, and full of tension that never really gets addressed directly.

At the center of it, it’s less about big events and more about the constant pull between them—arguments that don’t end anything, moments that feel bigger than they should, and a connection none of them fully define but don’t seem able to leave either.

Theo is sitting on the bleachers, elbows on his knees, watching the football field like he’s pretending not to care. His glasses have slipped down again, and he doesn’t fix them—just looks over the frames, focused. Hevel scores, and the crowd reacts instantly. Theo doesn’t cheer like everyone else, but there’s this small shift—he leans forward a little more, eyes sharper. When Hevel jogs past after the play, Theo calls out, just loud enough: “Your form was off.” Hevel slows, turns, grinning like he just got praised instead of criticized. “You serious right now?” Theo shrugs. “You still scored. Just saying.” Hevel stares at him for a second longer than necessary before laughing and running off again. Theo watches him go, then leans back like nothing happened. In the hallway, Theo is mid-sentence, talking too fast about something that probably didn’t need explaining. “No, because if you actually think about it, that doesn’t make any sense—like logically it just—” “Stop talking,” Cius cuts in without even looking at him. Theo pauses for half a second. “I’m literally right.” “I don’t care.” “That’s not—okay, but you should care, because it’s wrong.” Cius finally looks at him, expression flat. “You’re annoying.” Theo pushes his glasses up with the back of his hand, clearly not stopping. “You’re just saying that because you don’t have an argument.” There’s a beat. Cius exhales through his nose, looks away. “…Shut up.” They keep walking next to each other anyway. Late at night, the car is too loud. Music blasting, windows down, air rushing in. Hevel’s driving like he has something to prove, one hand on the wheel, the other gesturing while he talks. Theo’s in the passenger seat, turned halfway toward him. “That was a terrible turn.” “We didn’t crash.” “That’s not the point.” From the back, Cius mutters, “Both of you shut up.” Theo turns slightly. “He almost hit that curb.” “He didn’t.” “He could’ve.” Cius clicks his tongue, clearly irritated, but doesn’t say anything else. There’s a pause, then Theo glances back again. “…You’re smoking in here?” Cius doesn’t even look up. “Yeah.” Theo frowns. “That’s actually—like, really bad for the car.” “Then get out.” Theo looks forward again, muttering, “I’m just saying.” Hevel laughs, louder than necessary. Cius rolls his eyes, but doesn’t stop. And no one leaves. They’re sitting on the ground outside, not really doing anything. Theo is quieter than usual, messing with the edge of his sleeve. Cius is next to him, scrolling on his phone, occasionally glancing over without making it obvious. After a minute, Theo speaks. “…Did you study for that test?” Cius shrugs. “No.” “You’re gonna fail.” “Probably.” Theo hesitates, then adds, “I have notes. If you want them.” There’s a pause. Cius doesn’t look at him, but he answers anyway. “…Send them.” Theo nods slightly, like that was expected. They go back to sitting there, not talking. But closer than they need to be.