Penelope stared at the photograph for a long time after Scott left.
Julian's face in the photo didn't match the one she knew. The soft eyes, the hesitant smile, the quiet vulnerability—none of it was there. In the picture, his gaze was hard. Detached. He looked like a stranger wearing Julian's skin.
But people change, right?
She kept telling herself that. People change.
Still, when she saw Julian after school—leaning against the bike rack with his sketchbook and that patient expression she used to love—it felt like looking at a painting that had been smudged. Familiar, but suddenly… wrong.
"Hey," he said.
Penelope didn't answer right away.
He noticed.
"Okay. What's wrong?"
She pulled the photo from her bag, hands trembling. "Tell me this isn't you."
Julian looked at the photo. And something in him… shut off.
He closed the sketchbook slowly. "Where did you get that?"
"Answer the question, Julian."
His jaw clenched. "I didn't think you'd ever see that."
"Why? Because you were hoping I'd keep drawing you in soft colors while ignoring the shadows?"
Silence.
Penelope stepped back. "What did you do?"
Julian looked away. "It was before you knew me. Before I moved here. I was a mess. My mom was in and out of rehab. My dad was gone. I had no anchor. And that day…" He swallowed. "I snapped."
"So you hit someone?"
"I broke someone," he whispered.
Penelope flinched.
"I got suspended. Sent to therapy. It was the worst thing I've ever done."
She stared at him, tears threatening. "Why didn't you tell me?"
"Because I didn't want you to see me as a monster," Julian said. "I wanted to be the version of myself I am with you."
"But that version is a lie," she said, voice cracking.
Julian stepped forward. "No. It's real. I've spent every day since trying to be better. And you—you're the reason I stayed better."
Penelope shook her head. "That's not fair. You don't get to make me your redemption story."
Just then, a voice behind them said, "He's not the only one who's lied."
It was Scott.
Of course.
Julian's eyes narrowed. "What are you doing here?"
Scott ignored him. Looked at Penelope.
"I didn't tell you the whole story either."
Penelope turned, exhausted. "What now?"
Scott sighed. "Julian hurt someone. Yes. But he also saved someone."
Penelope blinked. "What?"
Scott pulled a second photo from his jacket. This one was grainier, older. A boy—bruised, tear-streaked—being pulled away from a group. Julian's hand on his shoulder. Protective. Angry.
"That boy," Scott said softly, "was me."
Penelope looked from the photo… to Scott.
And then to Julian.
Julian's voice was low. "They were hurting him. I lost control. I hurt one of them worse than I meant to. And I hated myself for it."
"But you protected him," she whispered.
Julian nodded once. "Even if it meant becoming the villain in someone else's story."
Penelope stared between the two boys—one bruised by the past, one haunted by it.
Both of them broken.
Both of them beautiful.
And for the first time… she didn't know which one her heart belonged to.