Chapter One: The Meet

I stood in front of the bathroom mirror, staring at the face I saw every day but never truly recognized. Seventeen years old and still, every time I looked at my reflection, it felt like I was meeting a stranger. The contrast between my brown skin and the pale patches from the vitiligo seemed more prominent today, glaring back at me like a taunt. It wasn’t that I hated myself—at least, that’s what I told myself—it was that I didn’t know how to feel. Half the time, I wanted to be invisible. Other times, I wished I could stand out for the right reasons.

"You’re not ugly," I whispered, gripping the edge of the sink, my knuckles turning white. "You’re unique. Special. Handsome even, right?"

But the words felt hollow, like I was trying to convince myself of something I didn't believe. My brown eyes darted to the patches of skin along my jawline, my cheek, my neck—places where the pigment had disappeared. Every time I stepped outside, I could feel the stares, the whispers. I hated that I could never hide from it.

“Crisanto!” My mom's voice pierced through the quiet of the house. Before I could respond, she barged in, eyes wild with frustration. “Why aren't you at school? You skipped again?”

I straightened up, trying to seem calm, but my heart was racing. “I… I wasn’t feeling good.”

“Crisanto Chaves, how many times are you going to use that excuse?” She crossed her arms, her eyes narrowing. “Do you think I’m stupid? You’re going to ruin your future if you keep this up. You can’t just hide here!”

I clenched my jaw, resisting the urge to snap back. She didn’t get it. No one did. “Mom, it’s not like that—”

“It is like that,” she interrupted, stepping closer. “You have so much potential, but you’re wasting it. Do you know how much we’ve sacrificed for you? For you to just throw it away because you don’t feel like facing the world?”

“You don’t understand!” I finally snapped, the frustration boiling over. “It’s not just about school. It’s... it’s everything.”

Her expression softened for a split second, but then she sighed, as if exhausted by me. “You’re making it harder than it needs to be. Everyone has problems, Crisanto, but you have to face them. Skipping school won’t solve anything.”

Before I could respond, my dad’s voice thundered from down the hall. “What’s going on in there?”

I felt my chest tighten. Great, now Dad was involved. I couldn’t deal with both of them. I pushed past my mom, not caring about the way she called after me. I needed to get out of there, needed to breathe. The air in the house was suffocating, filled with expectations and disappointments that weighed me down.

I bolted out the front door, ignoring my dad’s voice echoing through the hallway. It was cold outside, the kind of cold that seeps into your bones and makes you shiver despite yourself. I pulled my jacket tighter around me, my breath coming out in short, sharp puffs as I made my way to the park. The streetlights flickered above me, casting long shadows on the ground.

The park was mostly empty, save for a few joggers in the distance. I sat on a bench near the trees, my thoughts swirling like the wind that rustled the branches overhead. I pulled out my phone, flipping through it mindlessly, trying to distract myself from the whirlwind inside my head. My fingers hovered over social media, but I didn’t have the energy to deal with the perfect lives displayed there. Instead, I stared at the empty screen, feeling more alone than ever.

That’s when it happened.

A sudden force slammed into me, and before I could react, I was flat on my back, my phone flying out of my hand. The wind was knocked out of me, and something heavy was on top of me. I groaned, blinking up at the dark sky, only to see a massive dog standing over me, panting, its tail wagging like it had just won a prize.

“What the hell?” I gasped, trying to push the dog off me. My heart was racing, half in panic, half in surprise.

“Oh my God, I’m so sorry!” A voice called out from somewhere above me. “Zeus! Get off him!”

The dog – Zeus, apparently – barked once, then obediently stepped back, leaving me lying there in the cold grass, trying to catch my breath. I propped myself up on my elbows, and that’s when I saw him.

For a moment, I forgot how to breathe altogether.

The guy standing above me was tall—like, really tall, easily over six feet. His skin was pale, almost milky under the streetlights, and his green eyes shone brightly, almost like they were glowing in the dim light. His hair was a mess of curls, wild and unruly, but in a way that made him look effortlessly cool. He was dressed casually—jeans, a hoodie—but there was something about him that made my brain short-circuit.

“Are you okay?” he asked, concern lacing his voice as he extended a hand towards me.

I blinked, staring at his hand for a second longer than necessary before taking it. His grip was firm, his skin warm against mine as he helped me to my feet. For some reason, the touch sent a shiver down my spine, though I told myself it was just the cold.

“I-I’m fine,” I stammered, feeling like an idiot. “Just, uh, didn’t see that coming.”

He laughed, and the sound was deep, rich. It made something in my chest flutter in a way I wasn’t used to. “Yeah, sorry about that. Zeus gets a little too excited sometimes.”

I glanced down at the dog, who was now sitting obediently beside him, tongue lolling out, looking as innocent as ever. “It’s okay. He’s... big.”

The guy chuckled again. “Yeah, he doesn’t know his own strength.”

There was an awkward pause, and I realized I was still staring at him. I quickly looked away, feeling heat rise to my cheeks, which was probably noticeable because of the contrast between my skin tones. Damn vitiligo.

“I’m Crisanto,” I blurted out, feeling like I needed to say something to fill the silence. “But you can call me Cris.”

“I’m—” He stopped himself, looking like he was about to say something, but instead, he just smiled. “Well, it’s nice to meet you, Cris. I better get Zeus out of here before he knocks someone else over.”

He turned to leave, and for a split second, I panicked. I wanted to ask for his name, to say something, anything to keep him there a little longer, but the words were stuck in my throat. Instead, I just stood there like an idiot, watching him walk away, his dog trotting happily beside him.

As soon as he was out of sight, I groaned and ran a hand through my hair. “You’re an idiot,” I muttered to myself. I didn’t even get his name.

I turned and started walking back home, my thoughts spinning. I couldn’t stop thinking about him—his laugh, his eyes, the way his hand had felt in mine.

And I hated myself a little for it, but I knew I wouldn’t be able to forget that beautiful stranger.

Chapter Two:

I couldn’t stop thinking about him.

Even as I sat in class the next morning, half listening to Mr. Rodriguez drone on about some historical event I barely cared about, my mind kept drifting back to the park. To him. The way his green eyes practically glowed under the dim streetlights, the way his laugh had warmed the chill in the air, the way he had said sorry like he actually meant it. I was replaying every moment, analyzing every detail, and kicking myself for not getting his name.

"Crisanto," Mr. Rodriguez’s voice yanked me back to reality. "Care to tell the class what you find so fascinating over there?"

My face burned as a few kids around me snickered. Great. I shifted uncomfortably in my seat, trying to come up with something, anything, that would sound intelligent. But of course, my mind was a complete blank.

“Uh... sorry,” I mumbled, staring down at my desk. “I wasn’t paying attention.”

“No kidding,” Mr. Rodriguez sighed, shaking his head. “Stay with us, please. You can daydream on your own time.”

The class continued, but I couldn’t focus. My thoughts kept spiraling back to last night. It wasn’t just that the guy had been ridiculously good-looking. There was something else, something in the way he’d looked at me that felt different from how people usually looked at me. Not like I was something weird or broken, but like I was just... me.

I tapped my pen against my notebook, my eyes drifting towards the window. The sky was a dull gray, clouds heavy with the promise of rain. The cold seemed to seep in from the outside, reminding me of how the air had felt last night—sharp and biting, yet somehow softened by that stranger’s presence.

“Who are you?” I whispered under my breath, staring at the mist forming on the glass. I’d never been so caught up on someone I didn’t even know.

By the time the bell rang, signaling the end of class, I was already lost in my own head again. I packed up my things slowly, not really in a rush to leave, but when I stepped out into the hall, I saw Mateo waiting for me. His eyebrows were furrowed, his ever-present grin nowhere to be found.

“Hey, man, you okay?” he asked, falling into step beside me. “You were spacing out the whole class.”

I shrugged, trying to act casual, but Mateo wasn’t stupid. He’d known me since we were kids, and he could always tell when something was off.

“I’m fine,” I lied, giving him a half-hearted smile. “Just... tired.”

Mateo stopped walking, his hand on my arm, forcing me to turn and face him. His dark eyes searched mine, and I could tell he wasn’t buying it.

“Is it your mom again? Or your dad?”

I sighed, running a hand through my hair. “Yeah. We had a fight last night. About school. It’s whatever, though. Same old stuff.”

Mateo frowned, his expression softening. “You want to talk about it?”

I shook my head, grateful that he didn’t push. He never did. Instead, he just nodded and we kept walking, falling into a comfortable silence. I appreciated that about him—how he didn’t need to fill every moment with words.

But even with Mateo’s silent support, my mind kept wandering back to the park. By the time lunch rolled around, I had made up my mind. I needed to go back. Maybe it was a long shot, but I couldn’t let this feeling go. I had to see him again, to at least know his name.

When the final bell rang and the day’s last class ended, I bolted from school, heading straight for the park. The streets were quieter than usual, the overcast sky and impending rain keeping most people indoors. My heart pounded in my chest as I approached the familiar path, my breath coming out in quick, nervous bursts.

I don’t know what I expected. Maybe he’d be there, like some kind of miracle, waiting for me. Or maybe I’d just find myself standing alone, feeling stupid for thinking he’d show up again.

But as I rounded the corner to where the benches were, I saw him.

He was sitting on the same bench I had sat on the night before, his dog—Zeus—lying lazily at his feet. The sight of him made my heart skip a beat, and for a second, I froze, unsure of what to do. He hadn’t noticed me yet, and I felt the urge to turn around, to leave before he saw me, but my feet had other plans.

I started walking towards him.

Zeus was the first to notice me, his ears perking up as he let out a friendly bark. The guy looked up, surprised at first, but then a slow smile spread across his face when he recognized me.

“You again,” he said, standing up as I approached. “We keep meeting like this.”

I laughed nervously, rubbing the back of my neck. “Yeah, I guess we do.”

He reached down and ruffled Zeus’ fur, calming the dog down before turning back to me. “Are you stalking me?”

I froze, my eyes widening in panic. “W-what? No! I just—I mean, I was just walking, and I—”

He laughed, a deep, easy laugh that made me relax instantly. “I’m kidding. Relax. It’s nice to see you again, Cris.”

The way he said my name made something flutter in my chest. I tried to play it cool, though I could feel the heat rising to my cheeks.

“Yeah, you too,” I mumbled, feeling awkward. “I, uh, realized I never got your name.”

“Oh, right,” he said, smiling. “It’s Eli. Eli Devereux.”

Eli. Of course, his name would be something that sounded effortlessly cool.

“It’s nice to officially meet you, Eli,” I said, feeling a little more confident now that I had something to call him. “So, uh, do you come here often?”

Eli smirked, raising an eyebrow. “Are you seriously asking me that?”

My eyes widened again, and I felt the urge to slap myself. “No! I mean, yes, but not like that! I wasn’t trying to—”

He chuckled again, his green eyes sparkling with amusement. “Relax, Cris. I’m just messing with you. Yeah, I come here pretty often. Zeus likes the park.”

I glanced down at Zeus, who was staring up at me with big, soulful eyes, his tail wagging. I couldn’t help but smile.

“He’s a good dog,” I said, reaching down to pet him. Zeus licked my hand in response, and I laughed. “Big, but good.”

“He’s a handful sometimes, but yeah, he’s the best,” Eli said, his voice softening as he looked at his dog. “Got him when I was twelve. He’s been my best friend ever since.”

I nodded, feeling a strange warmth spread through me at the way Eli talked about Zeus. It was clear how much he cared about the dog, and for some reason, that made me like him even more.

For a few moments, we sat there in comfortable silence, the sounds of the park filling the air around us. The wind rustled through the trees, carrying the faint scent of rain, and I felt... at peace. It was a feeling I hadn’t experienced in a long time.

“So, what brings you here?” Eli asked, breaking the silence.

I hesitated, not sure how to answer. Should I tell him the truth? That I’d come here hoping to see him again? That I hadn’t been able to stop thinking about him since last night?

Instead, I shrugged, trying to play it cool. “Just needed to clear my head. Had a rough day.”

Eli nodded, his expression understanding. “Yeah, I get that. Sometimes it feels like everything’s too much, you know?”

I looked at him, surprised by the sincerity in his voice. He seemed so... put together, like nothing could faze him. But there was something in his eyes now, something vulnerable, that made me realize maybe he wasn’t as perfect as he seemed.

“Yeah,” I said softly. “I know exactly what you mean.”

We talked for a little while longer—about nothing in particular, just casual stuff. But it felt good. Easy. Like I didn’t have to pretend to be anyone but myself.

Eventually, the sky darkened, and the first few drops of rain began to fall. Eli looked up at the sky, then back at me.

“I should probably get Zeus home before it starts pouring,” he said.

“Yeah,” I agreed, though I didn’t want the conversation to end.

Eli smiled at me, and for a moment, I felt like he was going to say something else, something important. But then he just waved.

“See you around, Cris,” he said, turning to leave with Zeus trotting beside him.

“Yeah,” I whispered, watching him walk away again. “See you around.”

And this time, I knew I wasn’t going to let him walk away without knowing more about him.

Chapter Three:

The rain had finally stopped, leaving behind that fresh, wet scent that always lingered in the air afterward. I stood in front of the mirror again, running a hand through my hair, still damp from the drizzle. My reflection stared back at me, the familiar patches of skin a stark reminder of the insecurities I’d carried for as long as I could remember. I traced my fingers over the lighter spots along my cheekbones and down my neck, wishing for the hundredth time that I could see what Eli saw. What anyone else saw.

Eli. Even just thinking his name sent a strange warmth through me.

After our second encounter at the park, I couldn’t stop thinking about him. His smile, his voice, the way his eyes softened whenever he looked at Zeus. There was something about him—something magnetic. It felt dangerous, like I was on the edge of something I couldn’t quite understand. But I wanted more.

Of course, wanting more terrified me.

A knock at the door shook me from my thoughts. I jumped, quickly wiping at my face as if trying to erase any trace of whatever emotion had crept in. The door creaked open, and my mom’s voice followed.

“Crisanto, I’m coming in.”

Before I could respond, she was already inside, her usual expression of concern mixed with frustration etched onto her face. She eyed me, then the wet towel hanging off my shoulder.

"Did you even go to class today?" she asked, crossing her arms.

I sighed, turning away from the mirror. "Yeah, I went."

Mom’s brow furrowed. “Don’t lie to me. I checked with the school. You skipped your last two periods.”

There it was again—her disapproving tone, the weight of her expectations crashing down like a wave. I couldn’t tell her that I’d needed space to think, to clear my head. That every time I sat in class, I felt suffocated by the weight of everything I wasn’t. How was I supposed to explain that?

“Crisanto, you can’t keep doing this,” she said, her voice softer now, but still carrying that edge of disappointment. “Your father—”

“Yeah, I know,” I cut her off, feeling my pulse quicken. “He thinks I’m weak. He thinks I’m not good enough. I get it, Mom.”

“That’s not what I was going to say,” she replied, her voice tightening. “But you need to stop acting like you don’t care. Skipping classes, zoning out—it’s not going to help you.”

My jaw clenched as I stared down at the floor. “I do care.”

“Then show it,” she shot back, stepping closer. “I love you, Crisanto. We both do. But we can’t help you if you keep shutting us out.”

“I’m not shutting you out,” I said, though it felt like a lie. Maybe I was. Maybe it was easier to shut everyone out than to let them in and see how much I was struggling. How much I felt like I was drowning.

Before I could say anything else, Dad’s voice boomed from the hallway. “Crisanto! What’s going on in there?”

I winced, feeling my stomach twist. Mom looked at me, her eyes softening for just a second before she turned toward the door.

“I’ve got it,” she called back, her voice a little firmer. “We’re just talking.”

I could hear Dad grumbling something under his breath as he walked away, his footsteps echoing down the hall. My shoulders slumped.

Mom turned back to me. “Please, Crisanto, talk to me. What’s going on with you?”

I swallowed, feeling the familiar knot form in my throat. I could tell her the truth. Tell her about the way I felt every time I looked in the mirror, the way the weight of being different crushed me every day. I could tell her about Eli and how just being near him made me feel things I didn’t fully understand yet.

But the words wouldn’t come. Instead, I just shook my head. “I’m fine, Mom. I’m just tired.”

She sighed, a long, tired sigh, then stepped toward me, placing a hand on my arm. “You know I’m here if you ever want to talk. You can talk to me about anything, Crisanto. You know that, right?”

I nodded, even though I wasn’t sure if that was true. She meant well, but how could I tell her everything? There were pieces of me I wasn’t ready for anyone to see yet. Pieces that terrified me.

She gave my arm a gentle squeeze before heading for the door. “Just… don’t let this spiral out of control, okay? You’re better than this.”

And with that, she left, leaving the door slightly ajar behind her. I let out a long breath, the tension in my chest loosening, but only just. I sat down on my bed, running my hands through my hair, staring at the floor.

What the hell was I doing?

A faint knock sounded on my door again, but this time, it was softer, more familiar. I glanced up to see Celine leaning against the doorframe, a knowing look on her face.

“So, are we having a family intervention or what?” she asked with a small grin, stepping into the room and closing the door behind her.

I rolled my eyes. “Something like that.”

Celine flopped down onto my bed beside me, stretching out her legs. “You look like hell. What’s going on?”

I shrugged, not really wanting to get into it. But Celine had this way of getting me to talk, even when I didn’t want to. She nudged my shoulder.

“Come on, spill,” she said. “Is it school? Mom? Dad?”

“Everything,” I muttered. “It’s just… everything.”

She nodded, her expression softening. “Yeah, I get that. But you can’t keep bottling this stuff up, Cris. It’s going to eat you alive.”

Celine was only two years older than me, but sometimes it felt like she was lightyears ahead. Maybe it was because she was away at college, living her life while I was still stuck here, feeling like I didn’t belong anywhere. Celine had always been the strong one—the one who stood up to our father when he got too harsh, the one who was confident in who she was, even when things weren’t perfect.

She had this effortless way of making you feel safe. It wasn’t just because she knew what to say, but because she made you believe it. That’s what I admired most about her. She saw me—really saw me—even when I felt invisible to everyone else.

She’d been the first person I came out to. And to this day, she was the only one in the family who knew.

I could feel her eyes on me, waiting, and finally, I broke. “There’s this guy,” I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper.

Celine’s eyebrows shot up, and a smile tugged at the corner of her lips. “A guy? Tell me more.”

I sighed, rubbing my face with my hands. “It’s not like that. I mean, it is, but… I don’t even know what it is.”

Celine propped herself up on her elbow, clearly intrigued now. “Okay, slow down. Start from the beginning.”

I hesitated, feeling that familiar knot in my chest, but it was Celine. If there was anyone I could talk to, it was her. So I told her. About meeting Eli in the park, about Zeus knocking me over, about how he made me feel. How confused I was by it all.

When I finished, Celine just looked at me for a moment, her expression unreadable. Then, she smiled softly.

“Cris… you’ve got it bad.”

I groaned, flopping back onto the bed. “Don’t say that.”

“What? It’s cute!” she teased, nudging me with her foot. “I mean, it sounds like he likes you, too. You don’t just meet someone twice like that by accident.”

I shook my head, staring up at the ceiling. “I don’t even know him. What if it’s all in my head?”

Celine rolled her eyes. “Cris, you’re overthinking this. Just… let yourself feel whatever you’re feeling. You deserve that.”

“Do I, though?” I muttered, more to myself than to her.

“Yes,” she said firmly, sitting up. “You do. And don’t let anyone—especially not Dad—make you think otherwise.”

I nodded, though the doubts still lingered. But talking to Celine, even just for a little while, made me feel lighter. She always had a way of grounding me when things felt like they were spiraling out of control.

Celine wasn’t just my sister; she was the one person in my life who had my back no matter what. She’d always been like that—fiercely protective of me, even when we were kids. I remember when I first noticed the patches of vitiligo on my skin, how upset I’d been, how scared. Celine had been the one to sit me down and tell me it didn’t change anything, that I was still me, still worth loving. She didn’t let me wallow in self-pity, but she didn’t push me to change overnight either. She let me take my time.

“Thanks, Celine,” I said quietly.

She smiled, leaning over to ruffle my hair. “Anytime, little brother.”

As she stood up to leave, she paused at the door,

“And hey, when you see this Eli guy again… maybe ask for his number next time, yeah?”

I groaned, throwing a pillow at her, but I couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at my lips. She laughed, dodging the pillow before slipping out of the room, leaving me alone with my thoughts once more.

And for the first time in a long time, those thoughts didn’t feel quite so heavy.