The final bell rang a sharp clang slicing through the noise like a whip. Instantly, the classroom emptied, students spilling out like startled birds taking flight. But I didn't move. I lingered, slow to gather my things, my hands fumbling with the straps of my bag. The walls seemed to press inward, cold and unwelcoming, as if the room itself wanted me gone.
So I slipped away quietly, taking the long way out through the shadowed hallways. My footsteps were soft, almost swallowed by the echoes of empty lockers and distant chatter. I kept my eyes down, avoiding the gaze of passing students, pretending I was invisible.
Outside, the afternoon sun cast everything in a washed-out gold, softening the edges of the schoolyard. The warmth was a stark contrast to the chill knotting my stomach. I wandered aimlessly, hugging my books close to my chest like a shield, telling myself I was just stretching my legs. But deep down, I knew the truth I was searching.
I hadn't seen the student council all day. Not properly. Not together. It was a strange thing to notice, but it felt important. Maybe it was because they were the only people here who made me feel something close to safety. Or maybe I was just desperate for someone to see me without that flicker of pity in their eyes.
I veered behind the old gym building, where shadows gathered and few dared to linger unless they wanted to ditch class or find trouble. The air here was heavier, almost suffocating like the entire campus was holding its breath.
And then I heard it.
A grunt, low and guttural.
A sharp crack like a bone breaking.
A ragged gasp, barely audible but unmistakably human.
I froze, my breath caught in my throat.
The sounds came again shuffling footsteps, heavy thuds against the ground.
And then, a laugh. Low, cruel, and chilling, slicing through the stillness like a blade.
I swallowed hard, every nerve screaming at me to run.
But I couldn't look away.
I crept forward, each step slower than the last, breath catching somewhere between my throat and chest. My back pressed against the cold brick of the building, and I could feel my heartbeat pulsing through my spine. The stillness in the air wasn't peace it was the kind of quiet that comes before something awful. The kind that hums just beneath your skin. Electric. Dangerous.
A strange cold sweat prickled the back of my neck as I leaned forward, barely peeking around the corner.
And that's when I saw them.
Kuroo. Oikawa. Bokuto. Tsukishima. Semi. Suna. Osamu. Atsumu. Terushima.
All of them.
The elite. The golden boys. The faces plastered on school flyers, student council ballots, sports banners. The ones people whispered about in admiration. Who made teachers smile and students envy. They walked these halls like they owned them. And maybe, in a way, they did.
But not now.
Now, they stood in a jagged circle, surrounding someone collapsed on the ground like vultures over a dying animal.
A boy maybe a third year. I couldn't tell. His uniform was soaked in blood, his arms twitching weakly, face unrecognizable through the swelling and bruises. His mouth hung open, blood pooling at the corners like ink spilled from a broken pen.
Kuroo's knuckles were red. Split. Skin torn back like paper. Blood dripped from his fingertips, painting slow dots on the concrete beneath him.
He flexed his fingers, like they were sore, like this wasn't the first time. His face was still unnervingly calm. Like he hadn't just used his fists to turn someone into a corpse.
"Should've kept your mouth shut," Tsukishima muttered. His voice was cold, clinical. Like he was stating a fact. Like this kid had deserved it.
Oikawa let out a slow breath, brushing invisible lint from his blazer, his shoe still hovering inches from the boy's side. "I warned him," he said. His voice was sharp but tired, like dealing with people like this was a chore.
"He was digging," Suna added, crouching beside the body. His eyes were unreadable. "Poking into things he had no business knowing."
"People like him always think they're invincible," Semi said, arms crossed. "Until they're not."
Terushima clicked his tongue, pushing his hair back with blood-stained fingers. "Honestly? I expected more fight. Kind of disappointing."
"He's unconscious, dumbass," Atsumu snapped, rolling his eyes. "Of course he ain't fighting."
Osamu didn't say anything at first. His voice, when it came, was quiet. Almost too quiet. "He found the drive, didn't he?"
For a moment, everything stopped. Just for a heartbeat.
Kuroo nodded once.
"That's why this had to happen," Oikawa said, stepping back, wiping his shoe on the grass. "You can't let people like that start asking questions. That's how everything falls apart."
"I think his nose is broken," Bokuto said, crouching to get a closer look. "Or maybe his jaw. Can't tell."
There was a crackle of bone as someone nudged him with their foot again. I couldn't tell who. I couldn't look any longer.
My stomach twisted.
I pressed a hand to my mouth, willing myself not to make a sound.
But I must've moved wrong. Stepped wrong. Something.
Because suddenly, Suna's head snapped in my direction.
He didn't speak. Just stared. Eyes sharp. Focused. Calculating.
Then he said, calmly, "We've got company."
Eight heads turned.
Eight pairs of eyes locked onto mine.
I stumbled back, heart in my throat.
Run.
Every instinct screamed it.
So I did.
I turned on my heel and ran sprinting across the back of the school like my life depended on it. Maybe it did.
Behind me, I heard someone Atsumu maybe swear under his breath.
"Shit. That was Y/n."
Voices followed. Footsteps.
"Let her go," Kuroo's voice cut through them like a blade. Firm. Final. "Not here. Not now. We need to deal with this bastard first."
But I was already gone.
Tears blurred my vision as I tore across the courtyard, lungs burning, pulse screaming in my ears.
The perfect boys. The student council. My only anchors in this place.
Monsters.
it was already past midnight when the knock on my dorm door came like a whisper soft, but relentless. Not loud enough to alarm, just enough to crawl under my skin like a chill breeze slipping through a crack in the window. I froze, heart lurching in my chest. It was too late for visitors. Too quiet in the halls. Something felt wrong.
I padded to the door in bare feet, every step weighed down by dread. Slowly, I turned the handle and opened it just a sliver, just enough to peer into the shadowed corridor.
And there they were.
All of them.
Kuroo. Oikawa. Bokuto. Tsukishima. Semi. Suna. Osamu. Atsumu. Terushima.
The student council my school's golden elite, each one draped in shadows like they wore them by choice. Their eyes found mine instantly, calmly, like they'd been waiting for this moment. Like they knew I'd come to the door. Like they owned this night.
They stood too close. Too composed. A wall of unspoken intent.
Kuroo stepped forward first, the glint in his eyes replaced by something cooler measured, sharp. His usual lazy smirk was gone, replaced by an expression carved from glass.
"Y/n," he said, his voice low and smooth, designed to wrap around me and pull me in. "We need to talk. About what you saw."
My breath caught. My fingers tightened around the edge of the door.
"What are you doing here?" I managed, voice too thin, too frail. "It's... it's past midnight."
Oikawa tilted his head, smile still on his lips but it didn't reach his eyes. They sparkled, dark and dangerous. "We came because we care," he said gently. "And because we can't let you misunderstand what happened."
Bokuto leaned in slightly, his energy a jittery contrast to the tension in the air. "Yeah! You know us, right? We'd never do anything to hurt someone without a reason. It's complicated, Y/n."
Tsukishima scoffed, arms crossed, his golden glasses glinting. His voice cut through the moment like a blade. "You caught us in a moment. A bad one. But it wasn't what you think it was. Don't jump to conclusions."
Semi moved in next, his presence quiet but commanding. "That boy," he said slowly, "was a problem. A threat to everything we've worked for. To this school. To all of us. Including you."
Suna's gaze met mine lazy, detached, but with a sliver of something else beneath. He nodded, then spoke quietly. "Hard choices have to be made. Sometimes you have to do what's necessary... even if it looks ugly."
I took a step back, heart pounding, the world spinning. "That wasn't a choice," I whispered. "It wasn't justice. It was brutal. And you know it."
Atsumu stepped forward, the tension in his jaw giving him away. "You don't know what he did. What he was planning. We did what had to be done," he growled. "You're not seeing the full picture."
Osamu's voice was softer almost kind. "We're trying to protect you too, Y/n. This school's already on the edge. Everything we've built here, everything we've kept in balance... it's delicate."
Terushima leaned against the doorframe, his smile crooked, but his tone cold. "You can't pick and choose truths, sweetheart. You either stand with us, or you stand alone. And alone?" His eyes narrowed. "You'll break."
My gaze swept across them, taking in every face so calm, so sure. They didn't look scared. They didn't look guilty. They looked like they'd done this before.
I felt my throat close, my breath catching. "Why are you really here?" I asked, voice trembling. "To silence me?"
Kuroo stepped into the space between us, his voice barely audible. "No. We're here to keep you safe. We're your family, Y/n. And family doesn't let each other fall."
His words were warm. His eyes were not.
My grip on the door loosened. I felt my strength unraveling slowly, painfully. Because what if they were right? What if everything I believed was crumbling, and the only people who had the answers were the same ones who stood soaked in darkness?
Confusion, fear, anger... and something worse.
Doubt.
Because maybe I didn't know what I saw.